A Rough Draft So Rough, It Will Scratch Your Cornea.

Here is the promised PART ONE of my rough draft for my March short story. I do realize that I seem to have gotten a little off topic. My plan was to write about something that made me emotionally ill, which was the original intent of this story. However, somehow it turned into some sort of scifi-ish, dystopian thing.

A few things you probably don’t care about, but I’m going to tell you anyway

-This is Part One, I will have Part Two on Sunday.
-I don’t usually write sci-fi or dystopian, so… bear with me.
-This is not edited. At all. This is basically my writing without make-up.
– The rating I’m giving this piece is 16+ just because of language. (My stories generally have very little, if any, foul language, but for this particular one I felt that it was needed to add verisimilitude to the piece overall.)

It was dangerous taking the Tram out to a Site. This particular one wasn’t scheduled for development until three years from now, but it was still a risk. Trask, however, didn’t care.
“We about to burn this shit up!” he shouted to the carload, yanking on the wheel a little too hard, sending bodies bumping into one another.
“Shut up Trask,” said Reid feebly, his breath fogging up the windows.
“Off road beeyotches!” he yelled, his voice grating against every surface in the Tram’s cabin.
“I swear, I am going to kill you,” Maura clutched the armrest and glared daggers at Trask as the car began jerking violently along a rougher terrain.
Trask didn’t seem to hear as the sheer joy of hijacking the family Tram enveloped him.
Like a ship in a hurricane that Tram raced over the imperfections of the unpaved ground, grating organs together, sending every loose item into a frenzy, vibrating every available surface. The enormous cross-iron gate came upon them fast. With no skill and no finesse, he stopped the Tram within seconds of the impediment, leaving deep skid marks in the damp mud.
“Trask, you fucking idiot!” Maura was beside herself as she seethed. She’d crammed herself up into a corner like a cat scrambling for a place to keep its coat dry.
“Hey, you know this ground is rough Maura! Damn, what are you expecting? A fuckin ride through pansy-land?” he retorted, reaching for the button that switched the gear to park.
“You don’t have to go a thousand fucking miles per-“
“Hey! Someone’s got to open the damn gate! Quit nuking each other’s skulls off,” said Reid from the back.
Trask angled his square head and flitted his eyes across the two bodies in the back.
“It’s Pammy’s turn.”
“But I don’t wanna…” Pammy’s dark eyes squinted, her voice climbed in octave.
“Pammy, it’s YOUR. TURN. Get out there. And run fast. It’s fucking cold.” Maura said from the front seat before turning back around.
“Reid, can’t you do it?” asked Pammy.
Reid sighed and clawed a mass of dark hair behind his ear. “No, get your ass out there,” he said almost listlessly.
Pammy hardened her face and zipped up her jacket, jamming her thumb into the ‘open’ button for the tram’s door.
A second after she slammed it shut again, they saw her take off full speed for the control panel on the far right side of the gate, her knobby, bony knees kept knocking each other as her stride gained ferocity.
Through the grimy windshield, they watched her yank up the sleeve of her jacket to display the intricate pattern of her Stamp. With the wind tossing her hair in cyclonic motions and her bone white skin exposed and reddening, she waited for the sensors to pick up the design.
She finally watched the screen before her ignite with a white screen beneath a layer of filth. She let out a breath and punched in the security code. A code Maura had gotten from one of her connections in town.
The incredible noise of iron groaning filled her ears as she sprinted back to the large, boxy bus that was the Tram.
She slid in and closed the door quickly. No one said a word as Trask pulled into the widening space between the gates.

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~ by Jade Elizabeth on March 17, 2011.

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