NaNoWrMo 2009: Title Pending

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NaNoWrMo 2009: Title Pending

Post by Moonlite Knight on Mon Sep 21, 2009 8:01 pm

To the Point Summary: What if your parents were given a choice. You or your sister. And they didn’t choose you?

Notes: This is the synopsis for the story I'm going to be writing for NaNo Month this year. Do you think the idea is worth pursuing or should I write something else?
BTW, the story is not in first person, only the synopsis is. the rest of the story will be in 3rd.

Currently untitled


What if your parents were given a choice. You or your sister. And they didn’t choose you?

I don’t know about you but I cursed them every waking moment for the first couple of years. After that, I spent my time convincing myself that I didn’t care. It was just about the time that I’d nearly succeeded with deluding myself that they realized I wasn’t dead. I was gone by the time they figured out which orphanage I was staying at. By that point, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with them.

They were given a choice, a chance. And they didn’t choose me. I couldn’t forgive. Truthfully, I didn’t want to forgive them.

I could understand why they had chosen my sister over me though. She was the perfect one, with her beautiful, thick black hair and chubby cheeks. The voice of an angel, I remember my mother claiming, and the personality of one too. Hazel eyes, healthy weight, friendly, adorable.

I was, and probably am, nothing like her. I know I was born premature, the fact was whispered around my bedside so many times, that I doubt I will ever forget it. I was a sickly child, tiny, thin, and slow, both in mental and physical growth. My sister, despite the fact that she was two years younger, started speaking an entire year before I uttered my first word. She could outrun me by the time I was four. She would live much longer than I ever would.

I remember, even after so many years, because I hated it. I hated being so weak, so different from my vibrant, flowering sister. I hated all the hospital bills that piled up because of me. I hated the heated arguments that arose over me. And, most of all, I hated the fact, that they had given the ransom money for my sister, but not for me.

They left a six year old in the hands of a group of rebels. In the hands of potential killers who, all over the country, on the same day, kidnapped and held ransom a total of thirty kids. I later found out my sister and I were the only children taken who were related. I suppose it was a mistake on the kidnaper’s side, but the two of us really did not look a thing like each other, so I suspect they didn’t realize until too late.

The ransom they asked for was high, too high. My parents could only afford to pay for one of us. And that was why my sister was released, and I wasn’t. That was what one of the men told me when they took my sister away and didn’t bring her back.

I didn’t believe them. I waited, as one by one, the other kids were freed. I waited for my chance to walk through those that metal gate and rush into my parent’s open arms. It was only when I woke up in a dark alley, the sounds of cars and chatter filling my ears, did I realize they weren’t coming.

They’d chosen my sister over me. I was alone. Alive, for some strange reason, but alone. Unwanted, uncared for, in the middle of a country that I didn’t recognize where people spoke a tongue I didn’t know.

I don’t remember much after that. I know I somehow ended up in an orphanage, where I spent the next several years of my life. I was moved around a lot, because, due to my sickly appearance and refusal to speak, no one wanted to adopt me. I didn’t mind, I had no wish to get another set of parents. One had been enough.

I was ten when the kidnappers made their reappearance; this time stealing children simultaneously in over twenty different countries on four continents. The entire world was in an uproar, searching desperately for the children, intograting the first batch kidnapped. But the rebels had been clever the first time around, and even more so the second time around. According to the news reports all of us watched without fail at the orphanage, all of the children had been too young to remember anything significant about the kidnappers. And the parents were of equal little help, having sent the money to multiple fake accounts and received their child in the next day on their doorstep, safe and unharmed. The police force everywhere was being ridiculed and pestered for results.

Then a week later, all but ten of the fifty kids stolen were home, safe and unharmed. And the people responsible, once again, just vanished. Slowly, the commotion died down, and people stopped obsessing over the entire incident.

Then, a year later, the first of the ten kids was found. Everyone knew the story; it had been aired nonstop for an entire month. A couple went to China to adopt a child, and recognized one of the children as the ones who had been kidnapped but never returned. Further investigation revealed that the four year old was indeed the missing, presumed dead child. And then, another child was found, in an orphanage half way around the world of her hometown. And then another, and another.

All of the ten children were found within two years, and returned home. Somewhere between those two years, someone realized that if all the children from the second kidnapping were still alive, then the single casualty from the first would surely be alive as well. By the time they narrowed down which orphanage I was at, I had vanished.

I don’t know what I was thinking when I took off with only the clothes on my back, but I’m pretty sure it was something stupid. Like starting a life all on my own thus showing my parents I didn’t need them. Even now I cringe whenever thinking about my stupidity. All I know is that I was hurt. Bad. They didn’t want me then, why would they want me now? I wasn’t about to take a chance and find out why. I wasn’t about to give them a second chance.

No, I took off, moving from city to city, hiding, trying not to attract too much attention to myself. It was pathetically easy. A war that I had been unaware of had left many orphans to populate the streets of just about every town I visited. I spent my thirteenth year of life pretty much in that fashion, hiding and moving, searching for something. I still don’t know what I wanted, what I want now.

It was sometime around when I turned fourteen did I get my first break. I meet a gang who, for a price, were willing to create fake papers for fellow orphans. I ran into them while there were suffering from a lack of business, so, for the price of some bread and the bag of cookies I’d stolen a few towns back, I became Jasmine Boulder.

What? I was fourteen, young and impressionable. I needed a name as I obviously couldn’t use the one given to me at my birth or the one given to me at the orphanage. Jasmine Boulder seemed as to be good enough at the time.

At fifteen though, after suffering through so many jokes about it being ‘fitting’ to my personality, I sincerely hate it. But I’m stuck with it, just I’m stuck with my little gang of misfits. Actually, it isn’t technically, my gang as I was not the one to form it, or really, willingly join it. Nick was the one who started it, and, the one who forced me to join. If it was up to me, I’d still be drifting some town to town, hiding in the shadows, stealing from trash bins. Not that I still don’t so that, I just do it with a group of other orphans.

I guess I was just a bit tired of being on my own by that point, and when Nick and Op, and the others showed interest in me, I folded. I stayed, at first just for a week, then for a month, and then for another. Currently, it’s been four months since I first joined. And I’ve only thought about leaving for a total of six times. A record for me.

Another record is probably how long it took me to realize that Nick’s gang was not like all the other gangs of orphans out there. They actually had a purpose, a reason behind everything they did. And foolish me got herself involved just because she was, for the first time in her life, tired of being alone.

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Re: NaNoWrMo 2009: Title Pending

Post by xStarr_x3 on Mon Sep 21, 2009 10:52 pm

Ohh. Personally, I think it sounds pretty interesting so far. (:
I say go for it -- I'd love to read it.

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Re: NaNoWrMo 2009: Title Pending

Post by Moonlite Knight on Tue Sep 29, 2009 5:02 am

Thank you Starr! Very Happy

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(¸.·`¤~ Join the Kingdom of Darkness, or this shall be your fate.~¤´¨)
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Re: NaNoWrMo 2009: Title Pending

Post by xStarr_x3 on Tue Sep 29, 2009 5:31 pm

No problem. x33

_________________
Holleh likes taking evil slumbers. (and stealing candy from babies.)
She's PREGNANT. With a cow. How..?!
Holleh speaks to herself. In dreams.
HOLLEHS: Now come tree-size!
Holleh talks hotter than the sun. ;o
Holleh is an IN-SPURR-AY-SHUN. Believe it.
She thinks an artichoke is a type of fish.
She also gives lap-dances. To beds.
Holleh can van like a man.
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Re: NaNoWrMo 2009: Title Pending

Post by Aura on Sat Feb 27, 2010 6:49 pm

I think you should write it as it lookes really good, tinge of sadness to it.
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