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Viewing Single Post From: False Awakening
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((G003 - Xu, Hui "Sarah" START))

Sarah ran off the train, out onto the platform and back into the train again a few carriages up. She was heading for the cargo hold. In it, was something she needed. She couldn't remember what, or why, and the fact the train was so wide back here, at least twice as much as it was earlier, didn't cross her mind. It was more like a miniature hangar than a caboose, really, and the doors were open on either side as the city streamed past. The heat from the sun stroked her face as she looked out one of the windows at the tracks shifting past. Until suddenly all went dark, and she realised it was morning.

She reached out for her alarm clock, turned it off and then reached for her glasses. She reconsidered her search when all her hand found were the pencils on her side table. She rolled over... She felt like she'd had the worst night, and burying her head in her pillow seemed like a really nice idea. But instead of the soft downy comfort of her favourite pillow she found herself getting a face full of sand. She pushed herself up suddenly, looking down at where her bed was meant to be, looking confusedly from shell to shell before calming down and sitting in a more comfortable position.

She hadn't woken up yet.

She pushed her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose from where they'd been slipping down during her altercation with the ground. She took a slow sweeping look at the scenery, trying to get the panorama into her memory for when she woke up.

At least this was a nice dream. Dawn was breaking, something she'd sadly missed out on quite a few times that year, that beautiful mix of marine blues, aquas, pinks, reds and golds. The tree line behind her caught the first rays as the sun slowly rose on the horizon, far, far out across the ocean. The waves thumped softly against the beach as she sat watching the red dawn. A peaceful smile formed on her face as she realised how typical it was of her subconscious to dream up a pun like that, and just as quickly realised that she didn't care. She was far too busy taking it in. She rarely had dreams that vivid.

And the best part was, she knew it was a dream. And if she knew it was a dream then it was a lucid dream. That rare commodity which let her do whatever the hell she liked for a little while. This in mind, she got to her feet, stood there for a second, slowly held her arms out a little to each side and jumped backwards, no intention of hitting the sand below. Floating was always such fun and she never got to do it in real life, try as she had a few years ba"ACK!"

She hadn't expected to hit the ground, and although her total lack of effort to prevent her fall meant she hadn't strained anything the dull pain across her back and head wasn't exactly pleasurable.

She sat up, a bit more awake now. Obviously it wasn't that kind of dream. It was the "ovely realistic and you will obey the laws of physics" kind. At least that meant it was a bit more cohesive than usual.

Sighing, she looked down at her clothes. It seemed there were splodgey patches of red added to the usual bits of paint that seemed to accumulate on her cargo pants. Paint which was admittedly usually red as well. She focused on this for a little while. Her subconscious knew exactly what it was but seemed to be holding the truth back from her a little while longer, just for 5 seconds more peace.

5 seconds was up.

She was awake, this was real and everything was fucked up. She started hyperventilating as she looked at the bloodstains, burying her head in her hands. They were Mrs Bishop's, her English teacher's. Sarah had been close to the stage when she'd woken up in that hall, had been practically under the gunfire when her teachers had tried to stop it, and all she could see in her mind was their faces, their bodies, the violence, the blood.

She'd seen it all before, sure, on video. Civilians, protesters, journalists being killed on camera. Every time she'd seen something like that she'd wanted to help, to be there, to stop it, but such things were always in the past, beyond her control. But she'd never seen human blood, not like that. She'd never felt so useless, so vulnerable as she had then. Her whole body shook as the adrenalin came and went and she sobbed for the next twenty minutes without being able to think of anything besides the teachers she missed, the unfairness of their murder, and the fact she'd been barely meters and seconds away from death.


Eventually the crying slowed, then stopped. Though she kept her head buried for a while longer, it was buried with the intention of definitely doing something once it wasn't buried anymore. She was going to stop crying and figure out what she was going to do. Her mind wasn't blazing with vengeance or vast plans or anything, but she knew she had to do something other than sit around crying all morning. She at least owed her teachers not to fall into that habit again.

She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, which thankfully wasn't covered in grit like her palms were. She wiped them on her pants to correct that too. So far so good. Next on the agenda was getting her favourite jacket which was... somewhere around there. She looked around before spotting her bag behind her, along with the duffel she'd been assigned, but that could wait, preventing one of the reasons for her shivering was first priority.

She'd brought her father's backpack on the trip, and was more than a little thankfull for it. it was large, khaki and had far more pockets than was strictly necessary. On top she found her jacket, shoved in more roughly than she remembered, below that was her sketchbook which... wasn't quite where she normally put it and... Oh. of course they'd been going through her stuff. Fucking perfect.

She quickly dug through the rest of her belongings. Books and everything were still there, pens, pencils, all safe and sound... someone's hands had been through all of her clothes, they'd probably looked through her sketchbook... she felt like her personal space had been violated. Again. She'd have thought about how it paled in comparison to... earlier... but she really wanted to avoid thinking about that again for the moment lest she break down a second time. Anger was better, anger was good. Anger was what she was trying but only partly managing to hold onto.

"Rrgh!" She was shivering again now, but before she put the jacket back on she fished a shirt and a second set of pants out of the bag... and put them back in again. On second thoughts she figured it'd be a better idea to wash before getting out of the... dirty... clothing. She pulled the jacket over her shoulders and shuffled over to the duffle bag.

She hadn't noticed what it'd been sitting on.

"Oh come on."

A full sized riot shield had been placed under the duffle bag. Apparently someone had a sick sense of irony. Giving the activist a riot shield. Ha Ha. She ignored the sleight and opened up the bag, she was too busy rifling through the contents to notice anyone approaching.

Edited by Gwbiii, Aug 11 2010, 11:19 AM.
G003 - Sarah Xu -"Th-then I-I'll stitch you up."---> 開始
G049 - Mia Kuiper - "lada didi dada di dum dum."---> Anfang
G094 - Raina Morales
-*snort* pretty cows...---> Began: Bump in the Night || Ended: A New Day
""-Mandarin ""-Cantonese ""-German ""-Spanish
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False Awakening · The Beach: East