Hi, just a little information on how this story came about. I was sleeping, and i had an incredibly werd dream. For a time i had a dream journal, so i woke up, and wrote it down. It was so vivid and, a surprise for a dream, there was an actual plot to it, so i decided to write it down in to a story. It is called The Penguin People.
Th Penguin People
Chpt. 1
The nighttime market was all but deserted. People hurried home, speaking to no one.
A middle-aged man stood on the corner, huddled next to a woman, his wife. She was holding a baby in her arms, and he was shouting. They both had dark hair, like the night that would soon surround them, and pale skin, as did the rest of the world, glowing like moonlight. When people approached them, they held out their child pleadingly, asking if they wanted a child for work. The were poor, the baby unexpected,and they could not support raising a child. As the light around them ebbed away, an old woman came to them. Her face was hidden behind her cowl and wispy hair. She picked the baby up, spoke to it gently, and asked for its name.
"He has none." the mother said. " He was only just born, and we can't keep him. Please, will you take him?"
" I'm sorry, but I cannot. I have no need for a slave, and he is needed elsewhere. " She turned around and walked back down the dark, and now lonely, street.
They watched her leave as the light finally disappeared. They looked to the sky and saw the moon beginning to show. Who was this woman and where was their baby needed they asked. He was only a newborn after all. Their child then started to cry, it was tired, and the mother stared at its face. She stroked him, and he cooed quietly. She spoke gentle words to him, then looked at her husband. He told her it was time to go. They knew this day was coming, and she had to do it. She looked tearfully at the baby, her husband, and at world in front of her, and left. Their son began wailing and crying, as did his mother, but she did not return.
14 years later
Through the window, and past his eyelids, the light hit Dax as the sun rose. It was warm and welcoming, but it always brought with it a sense of distaste. It told him, in the middle of his dreams, that he was late for work. Dax got up, shielding his sea blue eyes from the bright sun. He thought of his dream the night before as he got dressed. It seemed real, but he knew that it could have never happened. He was sitting above the ground, staring at the ocean. He laughed. The ocean hadn't been around for thirty years, so his dream could have only been a work of fiction.
"I'm one damn good writer then, if I thought it was real." he thought to himself with a chuckle.
Dax hopped out of the window and on to the dry soil. He stretched and started towards the shed. He peered in to the old shack, and searched for his tools. The shed was made of wood, and it was extremely old. He and the surrounding farmhouses all used the same shed for their tools, because the wood was so rare, so Dax always tried to be the first one up to get his tools. He entered the shed, grabbed a bottle of water purifying pills, a shovel, an assortment of odd objects, and set off for work. Dax had never really liked his job, but he can't complain too much, because it won't do any good. Dax is a slave, and he has no voice in the matter. He has been a slave for as long as he can remember. He is owned by a rich and powerful family in the country. They, his owners, think that slaves are mangy animals, left behind, unwanted, by their families, and that the only way for them to become accepted in society is through hard work. Of course, they don't work themselves. Dax, along with other slaves works hard during the day, tending to the farms, and cleaning the water. Modern machinery is more than capable of doing these things, but ever since the Burrowing, laws and human rights have stopped being respected. People, not just slaves, are abused and disrespected. The world leaders have either fallen out of power, or were assassinated long ago. The cities have been in a state of chaos for years, so most people have tunneled to the countryside. The land is new, the people not as advanced, but they have regressed to the old ways of torment and pain.
Dax had finally reached the pump, and he began to get the water. He pushed down on the handle and, after several laborious minutes, a thick brown sludge started to pour out of it. This was the water he had to clean. It wasn't really water. It was more like mud, there was so little actual water in it, and it smelled of damp earth mixed with all kinds of atrocities. He scooped some in to the filter, so that the majority of the gunk would be filtered out of it. What came out was a small puddle of yellow-tinted water at the bottom of his bucket. Dax curled up his nose in distaste, and continued to scoop the gunk through the filter. When he had finished, he had about three cups of water. Not nearly enough for an entire family of dirty pigs, he thought, so i guess there'll be none for me, again. He threw a pill in to the bucket, and started home.
