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    • Buy 10,000 Dawns
    • Buy Cascade!
    • Buy An Eloquence of Time and Space
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    • Buy The Dark and Splendid Diary of Danielle Simpson and Other Tales
    • Buy Blackalope
    • Buy That Towering Blue
  • Explore!
    • Tales by the Blue Light
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10,000 Dawns: Chapter 22

1/14/2016

7 Comments

 
Picture
First off, did you see the exciting news yesterday? We're bringing back our beloved 10,000 Dawns Bonus Story Contest! Is there something in the universe of 10,000 Dawns you want to learn more about? A character we haven't explored you want to see more of? Now is your chance to make that a reality! Find out more at the link below.
http://www.jameswylder.com/home/the-great-10000-dawns-bonus-story-contest-round-2

Art by Annie Zhu, Story by James Wylder


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Chapter 22: The Pavements the Limit 

“Graelyn Scythes, what do you call this?” She couldn’t look her mother in the eye. “I didn’t have my eggs frozen so I could have a child who got a B-. Your siblings all did so much better than you when they were your age. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“It was boring” she wanted to say. She wanted to say that she had no interest in the book, and that she really couldn’t have cared less if Ivana had managed to win the great Horse Race that the Czar was throwing. The book didn’t tell her anything about the horse—it was supposedly so important, but they didn’t tell her anything she was wondering about it. What did it eat? What was it genetically predisposed to? Presumably it had been bred for racing, or at the very least was displaying desirable traits for horse races beyond her jockey’s spunky resolve to win the race. But none of it was in the book. Graelyn’s mind had drifted off reading it, and she’d found herself reading about horse biology rather than reading the book itself. Still, she finished it. It was just so hard to keep it in her brain. But that wasn’t what she said.
“I’ll try better mom.”
“You’d better, I don’t tolerate worthless people in this house. You’re either someone, or you’re nothing in this world and I’m not going to support you if you’re going to be a parasite on my back.”
She curled up alone in her room that night like she always did, setting her glasses on the table beside her bed. She wished at that moment that she could be in another family, like the kind she heard about at school from her friends. She didn’t even have a stuffed animal anymore, she’d had a Giraffe she’d named Attenborough, but her Mom had said she was too old for it now. She was too old for everything maybe. Sitting up, she slid her skinny legs off the bed, and walked over to the window, which she popped open with a snap. It was a cold night in Moscow, and the air chilled her almost instantly, Goosebumps springing up on her arms and legs like hives. She didn’t flinch, and slid her legs out the window. She was eight years old, and she was already sick of this, sick of people, sick of her parents. Her head was throbbing with expectations, and she wondered if it would be worth it if she kept going. She’d seen someone jump out of a tall building  before, her father had tried to shield her eyes as the man cracked on the pavement, but she saw through his fingers. The way he burst open was fascinating, she’d seen drawings of the insides of people, but never really seen the insides. It hadn’t really occurred to her that that much of a person’s mass was vital fluids before, and she felt silly for not comprehending that fact before that moment. Graelyn was high enough she would burst as well—the window in her room wasn’t even supposed to open the way she was doing it, one of the benefits of studying too much was she could already recode the simple drivers in the window machinery. Not child safe anymore. The wind was picking up, and she felt herself batted about by it, ready to pick her up and carry her away from here. She tried to remember the last time she’d been hugged, or been told she did a good job by her parents, and she couldn’t. “Not everyone gets a trophy,” she remembered her mother say, “that breeds weakness.” She imagined a trophy below her, and her body getting speared on it as she fell. “Got a trophy after all!” she’d tell her mother, though that would be impossible because the time it would take her mother to get down to the ground from where they lived in the skyscraper would be long enough she’d certainly be dead in that scenario.
Graelyn felt the wind waft her, and felt her lip quiver. She felt like she was about to cry. 
Ironically, that was what did it, the fear of looking weak by crying was what made her finally let go and slide out of her window. 

She fell.
She fell.

She
      Fell.
And it suddenly struck her that this was the worst decision she had ever made.
She realized that all of her problems, everything with her family, were temporary. Sure, they’d have custody of her for years and years, but that would end, and then they wouldn’t have control of her anymore, she could cut them out of her life like a tumor. No one could tell her what to do, she would be alone, just the way she needed to be. No one to let her down, no one to fail her or demean her. She would be a lone standout against the mess of the world. She’d fix it.
Or, she would, if she hadn’t jumped out of her window.
She was going to die, and nothing she could do could change that, she was totally helpless. 
Falling.
And then, she wasn’t. She felt an impact, but a light one, and she bounced up a bit, before falling back down into the net. It was hard to get her balance, but she sat up, trying to take in her blurry surroundings, as a light shone on her face. 
“It’s a girl Pavel, and a young one at that.”
“I could have sworn the woman on floor 59 was going to call it quits any day now. Damn.”
“You made the bet.” A security platform hovered over, and she reached out to them as they came by. A woman in black security armor lifted her up under the armpits, and set her down in the vehicle.
“Jesus, what makes a girl like you jump out the window?”
“She probably fell somehow, tried to get a better view or something.”
“No, I jumped.” She confirmed.
“Darn stupid thing to do, what do you think you’re doing? Your daddy beat you or something?” She shook her head no.
“When did the nets get added?”
“Not too long ago, some guy jumped and bust on the pavement a few months ago and we got them installed for insurance reasons.” Of course her inspiration was her undoing.
“So come on kid, why’d you jump?” Graelyn shrugged, “I thought there was no one I could count on, no one worthwhile in the whole world.”
“And now?”
Graelyn smiled, “there is definitely someone worthwhile I can count on.”




Well that happened. Gosh. Tune in next week, as we get out of Graelyn's memories, and back to  the danger on Triton... 
7 Comments
Rebecca J
1/14/2016 06:42:09 pm

Error 404: comment not found. Reader needs a moment. Emotional overload imminent.

(Reader is also still trying to figure out time travel. They haven't stopped worrying about Arch, which isn't helping with the emotional overload.)

Reply
James Wylder
1/15/2016 04:42:05 am

Quick, get IT on this reader quick, we want them back next week XD! But seriously folks, yeah, this was an intense chapter. Take a moment to breathe. And no spoilers, but we will see Arch again next week...

Reply
Rebecca J
1/15/2016 05:13:14 am

So the reader had a night to think over this chapter and they now believe they can form some coherent thoughts.

There are a couple things that really stick out to me...
1- Graelyn is obviously extremely intelligent. Even if this is the only chapter of the story you've read, her description of why she wasn't interested in the book- that's not the thought process of an average 8-year-old. And to me, that makes her mother an even more vile person. Cherish your family and realize that not everyone is exactly the same. Don't berate your own daughter over your stupid ideas of perfection.

2- What does it say about the society Graelyn lives in that installing nets around tall buildings and having teams to supervise them is the solution to the city's suicide problem? Or that the city has a suicide rate high enough to warrant said nets? I'm reminded of chapter 0 and Graelyn's comment about it not being her first hostage situation...

3- This one isn't really something that 'sticks out' to me... it's more of a general thought... Clearly things don't greatly improve for Graelyn. Her dad is still mentioned in this chapter, so I imagine that means he hasn't left yet. And a timeline for her brother's passing hasn't been revealed... But she's only 8 in this chapter and she's 16 when we meet her in chapter 0. It makes me so sad that Graelyn has spent all that time in her own self-imposed prison of loneliness. There are a lot of awful people in this world, but not everyone is out solely for their own motivations...

Reply
James Wylder
1/15/2016 08:29:44 am

First off, this is my favorite comment I think I've ever gotten on a story! I LOVE your analysis. I won't spoil anything, but a few thoughts to add on here :).

1. I'm in total agreement. Poor Graelyn.

2. Its the kind of society that eventually forms Alice McLeod as its natural consequence and recompense.

3. "Self-Imposed Prison of Loneliness" is perhaps the most poetic way to describe what Graelyn put herself through. Things have been rough for her... Even her adventure in the 10,000 Dawns hasn't been easy. We'll see where she goes from here...

Reply
Jeanne R.
5/28/2016 08:33:19 am

what kind of person causes an 8 year old to want to commit suicide?? Graelyn isn't the monster in this story, her mother is.

(seriously, I get horrified every time her mom is in a chapter)

Reply
James Wylder
5/28/2016 09:25:01 am

I think that is the most accurate synopsis of the role of Graelyn's mother in this story.

The worst part is that while not based on any one person, Graelyn's mother is mostly an amalgam of stories of people I've talked or researched stuck in abusive situations. She's less fictional than I'd like.

I was horrified every time I wrote her. Your reaction is legitimate.

I suppose then, I wrote her correctly, as horror is the reaction a woman like her should inspire.

Reply
Jeanne R.
5/28/2016 12:46:25 pm

oh I know she's very real, that's what's horrifying




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    James Wylder

    Poet, Playwright, Game Designer, Writer, Freelancer for hire.

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