Frozen Berries

“It´s too cold outside, 
for angels to fly.”


 When I was little I told my mum that before I was born I was up in heaven picking berries with the angels. I never understood where this came from. I was too young to have any idea what I was saying. But of all things why this? 

Perhaps it's because when I was little berry picking was a prized memory of mine, as was the thought of angels. 


But if one were to break this dream of mine down to the very core we could ask, what berries was I picking? Where did the berry picking occur? and how many angels were present?


Well being myself I recall berry picking for being something I loved to pick such as strawberries, something I was used to picking like raspberries or something I wasn't too keen on such as blueberries. 
Blueberries - Represents your youth and the desire to recapture aspects of your youth. It is a symbol of eternity and optimism of the future. Alternatively, it may depict your depressed mood and saddened state of mind.

Raspberries - A precious delicate matter.

Strawberries - Strawberries are often associate with feminine qualities and female sexuality. Alternatively, to see strawberries in your dream, indicates that your ideas and goals are soon realized.

Most of this seems quite possible. I was youthful at the time, yet was even then quite ahead of my age in what I wanted in life. I also didn't always have a happy childhood either. Which could have been a sign from a childhood dream of coming troubles. The age I was at was precious and delicate in matter, my mind was being molded. But I think my childhood lacked in sexuality, or at least I hope so.

The berry picking occurred in heaven which was always depicted to me as a safe place. Which makes great sense to why I choose heaven of all places to pick berries.

There were two angels with me in my dream, and apparently the number two like any detail in a dream is quite significant. 

Two is a female number indicating balance, sharing, give and take, and two way communications. The number two is important for mediums and as such they often have dreams which are littered with the number two (weddings, twins, etc.). Dreaming of the number two is not enough in itself to indicate that a dreamer is a medium. But it is a good indicator.

Breaking down childhood dreams is always quite twisted to me. But the biblical inquiries I had as a child specifically draw my attention due to my ever changing relationship with God and my beliefs.

Tomorrowland

Driving across this land is so bleak, nothing we pass has any significance no more. The place we departed was no longer my home, they didn't want me. So here I am, being taken across three damn states to take me who knows where. Nowhereland, Oregon. Towns we've been driving through for the past some odd hours filled with blank dead faces and deserted bodies. They're alive, but their lives are dead. They 'aint even gonna leave a speck on this lifetime let alone history.

I've been thinking, the worst part about being abandoned or put into foster care isn't even knowing no one wants you. I don't care that I 'aint wanted, I didn't want them either. I think the worst part is that I don't know where I'm going besides Oregon. I don't even get to know a town name, no address. They could be sending me to a sweatshop and all that would be expected of me is to sit here, shut up, and try to smile like I mean it. Look good and purdy for the pedestrians, make everyone believe I'm A-Ok. But I am okay, I just feel so unsure. It's not my fault I don't have all my marbles together, it's hard to see them all with some being more translucent than others. But I geuss that's life, not knowing what all you got until there's too much to deal and it all comes spewing out like something from a horror film.

The car moved as though it had a mind of it's own. Running us towards a new mystical home, a place of great power that would somehow take me and mend me of all my wounds. Like the pure bullshit my counselors spoke of. No one will take me and keep me, No one will mend my wounds. They'll only make them bigger and more infectious when they throw me out just like those before them. What makes this one so different? Why are they so sure he'll make an impact.
This thought came across me as my eyes woke, I sat up and turned around to the slowing tires and the misty air.
                "Alright Missy, it seems we are finally here." The Cabbie coed.

This was not a home like the ones before. They were all small and loosely kept. Resembling those who laid within them. But even through the fog I could see that something was different. The building was not some hob shack, but a building reaching to the skies. I walked upon the loose stones approaching the towering silhouette, as they turned beneath my feet I heard the door I was approaching open up.
               "My child, I bear your journey was a safe and blissful one." The calm voice danced through the misty air.
               "Ahh Father, it was indeed a safe journey." The Cabbie raspily said as though his prayers had been answered.
              "Father? I'm the foster child what do you mean by him being Father?!?" The thought escaped me before I could filter it, I am exactly what I said.. A child.
              "Ahaha, dear girl.." His calm voice appeared to approach, "I am but a Father of many." As he stood before me it dawned on me from his white collar. A man of God being allowed to take in foster children? They had rules against putting care into hands like these. I always thought they avoided conforming a child's mind to that of a book.
But yet he stood so graceful. He could barely be a shadow amongst the air. He was not a man of age, his hair was a soft blonde with hues of light brow. His eyes were as light as crystal and he was broad. I would have never expected him as a man of faith, let alone a man I could legally call my father.
              "Dear child, I doubt you have expected any of this. But believe me you are in for quite the treat living here. I am Father Everest, feel free to call me as you will." His voice graced my ears, I felt different here.

What Happened That Night (Continued)

My mind has never felt this blank before. I tried to piece together anything, anything to give an idea where Cobbie had gone off to. Did she get into a car? Did she take a new route? Did she feel adventurous and walk under the bridge rather? But nothing, nothing came to me and nothing strung together.
My eyes began watering and the man realized I couldn't carry on.
"Alright Miss Lillium, it seems this is taking quite the.... a mental toll on you. You can head home now, but if anything comes up be sure to drop by." He rose from his seat and opened the door, he wasn't empathetic to my tears he could careless how I felt.

I decided to walk the way we would have that night, see if the journey would bring back any memories lost along the way. But everything seemed so different in the day.
Well all up until the bridge. Our town was built on top of an old coal mine that ignited when I was a child. They told us that there was no harm it could do to us now, the ground beneath us would not collapse nor would our air or water be poisoned. They were right about a majority of it so it seems, but I wouldn't trust the water with from what I've seen.
This bridge is a perfect example of why though, as you approach it you notice a strange fog that doesn't move from the river's bed. Just follows it along our town and the mine beneath it. The closer you get to the water you see the bubbling and escaping steam. The mine's fire is boiling our streams, they do not dry up but they provide no life. You'd have to be a mad man to dare swim or to let alone swim in this water.
I guess this is just why the water companies were so sure it was still safe to live here, they didn't care about whether or not we'd be healthy they just wanted to expand their markets.
While standing midway along the bridge I held my head in my hands and waited, the road was silent and the only sound was of the fog swaying up around me. It had been late when I left the office, but as my eyes reopened it was as though I had regained consciousness. There is no way I had been here for this long.

"Lilliummmm...." My name rung like a bell from God knows where,
"Oh Lillium, wont you come and play?" The voice seemed to escape from beneath me and stuck inside my head like a mental plague.
"Lillium come down here, I have something to show you..." It continued, echoing on as though the world was enclosed to the two of us.
The voice rang clear, she was beneath me. But why would anyone dare to be under the bridge?
I began back down the road to the edge of the hill to make my way down into the fog. The ground was moist and being able to keep grip was nearly impossible. I made my way down fast and sharply by no choice for I spent a great deal sliding and clinging to trees and roots to regain stance. Upon making it to the shore I had no idea what to do, where to go, or where I was.
"Forwards Lillium, you wont find anything if you don't even look hard enough." The voice echoed on as a pebble came skipping across the water from in front of me.
I slowly approached as the water spewed small geysers of unusual gases into the fog. I could hear the waters bubbling go silent and I saw a grey figure outlined in front of me. I continued forward to see someone unbearably familiar staring back at me.
"Finally Lillium, I thought you'd never come." She seemed to not fear a thing as she reached into the boiling stream to pull up Cobbie's deformed corpse.
I woke up immediately. No longer was I near the bridge, it was all a dream. Or at least so it seemed. I realized my room had tracks of mud through it and my shoes were still on. It was as though I walked home from within a dream.

My body told me to clean up the mess, I had to get rid of any sight of mud or this dream. I wanted to wash away the thought really. But I also wanted avoid any further questioning of my suspicious activities.
No one was awake yet, and in which I was lucky. My mother is pretty anal about the well being of her house and the last thing you wanted to do was be the one who tracked unusual black mud through it. I scrubbed as though my life depended on it, I couldn't have anyone wake up and catch me in the act.
I was just finishing polishing up my shoes to clear their them of any remaining evidence when the door bell rang. At this hour no one would dare ring a doorbell in this town, unless something serious had came up.
As I changed into pajamas and hobbled myself down the hall behind my family I felt as though I had gotten away with my forgotten night. I too looked as though nothing out of the usual occurred.

"Uhhh, sorry to wake you at this hour... But the body of Cobbie was found this morning down the stream in the next town over. I'm sorry but, Cobbie is dead." The officer barely paused in his movements. He just took a step back and headed back towards his car after giving a once over of our reactions.
I felt my family's arms all caress me as I stood in shock. They must have felt they had comforted me from nearly breaking down. But I just felt like I had already knew.

What Ever Happened to Cassie?

Where do I even remain Cassis? You are no longer less of a threat, you actually make decisions now. Like what is this? Where do you even get off?

You see I don't get off, Cassie is no more. I am Cassis I am the fruit of your labor or lack of really. Without me you'd be a bore, doing absolutely nothing with yourself. They all see through you, and you know this. But no one has yet to even grasp me. I'm more complex, a go-getter. Your the brains and I'm the ambitions. So how about you get your sorry little ass up in the morning and go to school? Get the grades and make em count for what all you lack. Whereas I'll tend to your social life, keep it thriving. Really get you going. All while you sit around on your toosh dreaming of what we could be. The life I'll get you. Alright babe?

But what if we hurt someone more than we have? What if we fukk up like we always do... then what?

Calm down wuss, well you see if we fukk up again we can just move on make up for it else where. We both  know it's easier to run and hide than it is to stand ground for all that their fighting for. We can only do so much. Remember you are not strong enough to get by without me, and there wont be much of me without you.
Settle your demons girl, because this is going to be quite the ride.

Noones going to dig this but I geuss it's worth trying for now.

What Happened That Night

"Lil?" a voice perused while cutting through my slumbers,
"I don't know if you remember anything from last night but apparently you need to." The voice seemed to be serious. Whatever this was about wasn't going to go away. I couldn't just sleep this one off.
"...Wha-what is it? Why is my memory being tested? Do I look like I'm in the state to go even trying to grasp what happened lastnight?" Making sentences seemed difficult, just proving that last night's happenings may be better left forgotten.
"Cobbie is Missing! Alright? Now can you get your ass out of bed?" Her voice was sincere, our friend must have never returned home last night. Meaning I was the last person to see her.
"What do you mean missing? Cobbie always spoke of leaving this damn town one day. Maybe she went through with it? Maybe she moved on?" As much as I was trying to be reassuring I just was trying to escape being the main component that may locate my missing friend.
But I'm not sure why I'm trying so hard to not go looking for her, I was last seen with her and I'm sure I can regain enough recollection to go ahead and lead the investigation somewhere. But something seemed to be hiding in my mind. Some information just wanted to be forgotten.
"You think Cobbie would go without saying goodbye to us? Without packing any clothes or sentimentals? Come on Lil you'd have to be ignorant to even think that were a possibility." She was right, but I wish she weren't.
The truth is I don't remember what happened last night, the thought of coming up short with information and seeming suspicious in front of cops partially terrified me. Not because I was guilty, but because they'd write my suspicious behavior down and that would follow me forever. My life would be spent under some government asshole's eye.
My mind began sculpting so it seemed, taking the pieces of my mind and arranging them back into their original form. It felt incomplete, as though some pieces were lost under the couch. But I began to remember the night, the night that Cobbie went missing.

There was a stale coffee smell through out the police station, as I sat within an investigation room almost like the ones seen on the television except far less fashionable. The paint peeled, the chair's cushion was a retro print that had worn holes in it. There was no Good cop nor Bad cop. Just some overweight man who seemed to have not a single care in the world about Cobbie's disappearance.
They probably don't even care if shes okay, or even still alive. All they want to do is find some evidence so they can push this off into some simpler category and move on. By making it appear that the crime rate in this town has been brought down by them, they get a big ole bonus to congratulate on their job well done.
Though we all know they are just passionless pigs.

".... Right, Lillium Colgaski is it?" His voice sounded drunken and cold,
"You, uhmm.. were with Cobbie Howard before she went missing correct?"
"You can call me Lil if you prefer and yes I was walking home with her." I felt very calm in the position I've gotten myself into. Perhaps I appear too calm to him, emotionless to the missing persons aspect of this.
"So, Lillium, was there any suspicious or illegal acts of the night?" He spoke as flatly as possible.
"I.. I don't get quite what you mean by that sir." I felt my head tilt to prove just how puzzled I was by this.
"What were you girls doing that night? Boozing? Huffing? Smoking the Dope? Shooting up? Meeting the Night? Huh?..." He seemed out of breath by his sudden eruption of smoke. "So what was it you were up to?"
"We were just walking home, you can go ahead and accuse me of anything in the book. But the truth is all we had done was walked home. We had previously been at the school helping prepare for a dance fundraiser. Cobbie and I live in the same direction so we typically walk home together. It was just after dusk and the sky seemed almost grey. I remember we were around the market and we saw a van. But I don't entirely remember what came after that. We were really tired, and I just wanted to get home.

Ephesians 6:12 ESV

For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil and heavenly places.

Captain's Log

It's impossible I swear. When I actually wake up in the morning I feel excited about my day briefly, but then I realize I haven't been spending as much time as I once did being the artist I once was. Perhaps that's why I feel in such a choke hold?

I want to be locked away with a computer, my thoughts, dreams, ambitions, paper, art supplies and music in some leaky basement near a pool in the dog days of summer. It'll be cold there and I'll have a few companions.

Like Eugene the timid miniature italian greyhound.

Oasis the Siamese cat.

TJ the Sphynx.

and the cute little Nymph the Corn Snake Hybrid (Black King Snake + Red Rat Snake).

Together we'll have some relationship that cures my worries of being bad at everything I do. Whether it's art, music, relationships, school, as a daughter, as a friend.... or in life in general. I just want to have a way to feel like I wont mess everything up.
These little creatures are just a bunch of my desires that cast an idea of the real me I hide from everyone. By letting you read this I'm just pointing out what not many people may know about me. I hope someone catches it. I hope someone can understand me.

Youthhood

So, pretty much just keep your mouth shut/ remind yourself not to behave like a child. Stand up straight and make eye contact. Because we leave lasting impressions. And nobody digs the slouching juvenile presentation. Take care in your words. Err on the side of caution. Silence your self in the presence of doubt or authority. If you must, be sure to speak in turn. Brief and direct. Listener comprehension should be more satisfying than compliments on your vocabulary. ///// The vernacular is a disturbing pretense to cunning, as the subtlety of non verbal insight weaves a shroud of ambiguity where dimness does disguise shape sign and meaning. So a boulder seems a body or a smile seems a scowl and a warning whispered might be an invitation.

its like the sun revolves around you. and were only in our early teens. trying to reach conclusions without exposing our confusion. its like, whats the point of doctrine if we second guess it when comes the time to act. better really believe what you decide on. better understand it. cuz these ideas should influence our instincts.ready yet? get set. and there is no time to get there now. we must arrive immediately. its all a trick of the mind. reasoning only gets us so far. then its left to silence. motionless before the rest of time.surrounded by endless desert. logical path trailing back. swept away by unforgiving winds. no hope for hesitation. might as well trudge through drying concrete. better then be sure about each step. and like her words dont take a single one for granted.                 (Dante)

To Watch, Raise and Harvest (Finished... For Now)

There were pebbles under the tires as they stopped, making a rustling sound rise through my mind.
         “Everlyn, wakeup my dear. You are finally here.” The Watcher’s mouth pumped with less excitement and more dread.
Waking to a burning light I rose from the seat, as my eyes came to grasp a dirt road surrounded by deserted fields.
         “Are we here? Are you sure this is it? I’m almost certain there was more greenery within my slumbering state of wakeful sights.” I said with my weary tone.
         “This is the spot you marked upon your slumber dear, perhaps we shall wait.” The Watcher lit up a joint to mark the beginning of our wait.
I walked around the empty trailer that the Watchers cleaned up as our designated home for the remaining hours. Kicking stones and blowing into grass to pass the time. I laid sunbathing on top of the 57 Chevy Hire that brought us here. The Harvest live under a harsher sun, but luckily my genes protect me from it’s harmful rays.  
I must have been asleep for fifteen minutes before I heard else’s tires come rambling down the dirt road. I opened my eyes upon a large white bus with the Harvest Youth hanging out. They chanted and smiled and sung songs. Once they saw myself they called out to me.
          “Oh here comes some fresh meat,” “Hey hey what do ya’ say New Girl?” called the girls upon the bus.
          “Hey there honey you’re looking mighty fine, there baby” The males cooed.
But I set my sights on the male near the back of the bus, hanging partially out the window. He looked up briefly only to brighten his eyes and smile.

                It was then that I knew I had found the answer.

To Watch, Raise and Harvest (Continued)

The three of us transitioned our conversation from the Soon-to-Be to the Once-Was. You see though the Soon-to-Be is greatly intriguing the Once-Was reminds us of the bonds that we all once shared. Before we were all separated, before our parents had gone. Back to when things were simpler. When we were young.

The following two hours were spent with these familiar faces. But the unfortunate following ten I spent all alone. Though the Watchers tend to my every need they seem to be Piranhas, waiting upon me to need them so they can rush in and show their strengths. To feed on my needs to prove how worthy of a Watcher they really are. But the thing is it’s only so dog-eat-dog because if they are not a worthy Watcher they stoop into being the Harvest. Therefore their life depends on it. Unfortunately there seems to be more Watchers then needed, meaning more to go to the Harvest. Good hearted people being ridden of importance, However, there are far too many of the Harvest. Each living each day unaware so it seems, Unknowing that they are just here to die. They live life so blindly, but perhaps being blind to life is what we all need? Perhaps what we lack is found within just that?

I’ve read into the Harvest, there’s many books depicting their ways. Harmony my sister speaks of how the world around them is filled with music and art that keeps them pleased. Until they riot for otherwise. They can be both predictable and unpredictable. Really it seems like they are the elder race, the Plastic Generation with more morals for the world. Far less waste. I recall once hearing Harmony play back some of the music they made themselves. It seemed to have more soul than what Harmony’s world clan seems to spit out. I think it was once called soul.
Could it be this soul the Harvest has is the strong gene that the Raised lack?
My journey is really to locate the Harvest that made the song that touched me so dearly. Apparently he was of 17 years of age when he made this piece and it’s only been two years since.
Zia Wendell
06.03.2031
Come Alive
Such words, such numbers - What do they mean? Well assuming Zia Wendell, is his name... “light wanderer” and he created Come Alive around Juno 3rd year twenty thirty-one.
He sung tales of life and death, love and hate, being alone and fighting each day amongst this grand awakening that he refers to as “Come Alive.”
I found a parcel upon my bed from Harmony marked *For Your Travels* inside such was one of her gadgets that the Harvest are seen carrying. She told me they were invented to not only let the Harvest escape the world through sounds sent from within their ears. But they also cause tragic accidents where the Harvest are too far into themselves to realize their in harm’s way. Unfortunately but that is their lives. Short and with little impact to the rest of us.
You see why I must put myself in their place? Perhaps even bring one out to learn it’s ways? Without the Harvest the Raised are only special when compared to the Watchers and the Government, eventually when compared to one another someone will always be the weaker gene. Therefore they too will be cast away, cast into the position the Harvest lays. Then its just a matter of who is who and what is what.

I rest my head upon the glass of a shady vehicle typically driven by the Harvest when they are relocated. My Watcher had laid out an outfit I have only seen in Harmony’s notes. A white sweetheart neckline strapped together by some elastic fibres, closely fit to my bust attached to high waisted tye dyed black denim shorts. They pinned back my hair so that it was secured to my head ensuring the Harvest wouldn’t rip it out if our worse came to happen. They did not paint my face with makeup nor mask my eyes with contacts to keep the Harvest dust out. Apparently though feeling so naked, I was far more protected than ever before.

The music did not skip a beat, but yet my heart did for the album my sister had placed upon this device was non other than the Light Wanderer’s album “Come Alive.” The memories of these notes and tabs seemed as though it were only yesterday that I had last heard them. They played so dearly to me I was glad to hear nothing but. I watched as though the world I knew passed me by and I begun to see more of what he sung of. The world around me is not his friend, nor is it truly mine. But rather an unpredictable body that perhaps will take more time to mend.
He feels like the answer as his lyrics dance into the wind.

I shut my eyes briefly and let his smooth tones take me away again.

Balloon Theory

black balloons are for punks, transparency for illustrative purposes. so clear its not there balloon. grip the space between the inflated balloon. manipulate the shape but the volume remains the same. exhausted breath remains contained. atomic shell. nuclei. so all is well untill division. but under what conditions? consequence is nuclear. no fear. the truth is to much to bear. we operate inside the lines of the horizon. with an advantage on the right over the person on the left. between the limits of our vision. at the centre of an ego. building it like lego. reality is our attitude. we manifiest destiny by natural selection. in systems all mechanism must be accounted for. each particle has purpose. none more or less. but what is the consequence? compounds form elementary matters which further evolve. um.... (Dante)

To Watch, Raise and Harvest (Continued)

I watched as my brother snapped his finger making three other men rise behind him and follow him. Within moments another Watcher approached me.
            “Excuse me Dear,” he said in a patient voice,
            “Your brother has assigned me to tend to your every needs for the course of the next 72 hours. If you will, follow me please.”
I’ve noticed the Raised are told to be more connected with their emotions and quite empathetic, whereas the Watchers typically are patient, caring beings. The Government can be quite misleading and overly predictable. But however the Harvest seem to be quite... unknown to us all. They are just pushed aside really.
I followed my Watcher to my room where they had not unpacked my luggage, but however laid out a medical gown for me to put on. I guess it was time for me to get vaccinated. Adorned in my lilac gown and pale nylons and uncomforting and high frankly shoes I was lead by lights and a female and male Watcher to a hospital bed. As they strapped me down I knew that I may have gotten into more than what I can handle.
           “Now Dear take a deep breath, feel free to clench my hand” the female Watcher sweetly said,
           “Yes Dear, you shouldn’t feel a thing. Just stay extra still now.” The male Watcher informed me.
I clenched her hand and counted in my head, breathing deeply - until I gasped.
I woke in my penthouse room in a silk gown in bed. As I began to waken I tried to raise to my feet. But surely enough my Watcher returned quickly informing me I was far too weak to stand on my own. He called in another Watcher to help change me and move me into a wheelchair. Adorned in white I was rolled down to the table as brunch was brought in. Unexpectedly Zaria entered with my brother Brindle.
            “Oh my brother, and Zaria what have you?” I sleepily sang,
They smiled at me as they sat around the table of brunch. Pouring themselves tea and helping themselves to their meal before answering.
             “Everlyn the Watchers brought us here today for Avery asked, bless his heart. Though we cannot tell whether he wants us to talk you out of this or perhaps advise you what the life of a Harvest is even like, what they’re like.” Zaria wearly phrased.
             “Avery my brother knows my identical’s mind has been made up. He knows not to stand between blood and dreams. But he has more so sent us here to welcome her back to waking life, your first 30 hours have lapsed sister. It will be 12 more hours before you can fully function again. Whereas the remaining hours you have to live amongst the Harvest, that is if you can make it to the desired town within the remaining time. ‘Aint it funny how these things turn out my sister?” Brindle said calmly while blowing into his tea.
            “Quite the laugh my brother, so humorous I can barely remain grasp to my seat.” I said with the least amount of enthusiasm ever to face the two,
            “You see my brother and dear friend I do not need many hours to locate the answer. For it shall fall into place amongst my arrival. Fate is fate, and as my dreams have correctly stated this fate shall fall to my grasp quickly.”
             “Have it that way my dearest, but...” I interrupted Zaria..
            “There shall be no ‘Buts’ mind you my friend. There will only be comings of. And if my          blood has not shown dominance before.... Trust me with this answer I shall bring shall cause quite the commotion amongst this all.”  

To Watch, Raise and Harvest (Continued)

Our mother died young, almost as though she had been living amongst the Harvest for sometime. Our father had been taken somewhere that we have yet to learn. Though our blood is favoured we all still use our knowledge to collect information on where our father may be, where our mother lies, and what has been kept from us. Thus why we stand in such places of power. We are but bodies of emotion deceiving those who believe they control us to unleash the strengths that live in our past.
I was lead into a fine hotel with only the most lush guests and the richest of foods. I saw my bags be swept off to what I only expect is my penthouse while a kind face in a suit guided me to a table my brother sat waiting, but oddly enough my siblings had not been called in. It was only Avery and I, perhaps I should be concerned. But being me I have nothing to fear but my own decisions.
“Ahh, my baby sister I bet you wonder why I sit before you today.” Avery calmly proclaimed.
“Well of course with our blood I am always but curious my brother, why are we not graced with the faces of our blood? Are they far too busy to visit us? I do ever so miss them.” I said as the words gracefully fell from my mouth.
“Ahaha, always a charmer Everlyn - with such love for our blood. I see so much of Mother in you. But you must not let her get the best of you, You know she had a way of trouble my sister.” He raised his cup in respect to our Mother.
“Well my brother, why don’t we jump to it then? Why have you taken time out of your day to call me and only I in? Have I done something wrong?” I asked as my tongue craved to ask more.
“Bless you my sister, it is not what you have done it is what you have not done. You see the Watchers and Angels have said that you barely use your skills publicly, we fear your strengths may grow weak, and well... your blood can never be weak my sister. YOU know our blood desires to be you. We hope you will one day bear the children that grow to be the Desired. Though our blood holds some of the strongest traits, none but you have been blessed with such strengths.” A sense of remorse came over Avery, knowing I could be dead if I weren’t to access my strengths as they please.
“My brother, have you not realised I have rarely left the commune to yet enter public? How must I use my strengths if the camp makes them out to be such a bore? Can’t you see I want to experience more?” I plead.
“Well my sister if you desire such as leaving the safety of your camp and those of your commune to stay amongst the Watchers or the Government here in the capitol why didn’t you say so?” Avery snickered as though he knew all my desires.
“No my brother, those are but words you’ve tied to my tongue. I do not desire to be worshipped like yourself in one of the capitols. I want to spend time amongst the Harvest. You see I have this recurring dream...” I said with a lighter mind,
“A dream has told you to risk your well being to live around the Harvest? My sister you are more like mother than I had imagined. Why would you risk such for a dream?” Avery seemed astounded.
“Well my brother, is it not our blood’s dreams that have lead us to great success? Has our blood not gone great distances by embodying our subconscious plans? My brother, my heart tells me you will do the right thing. Send me to an isolated town filled with the harvest. I will only be their briefly. I know exactly what I need to do. Just have me blend in safely with them for a mere few hours of a day and I will unleash a dream that will make our blood strong.” I ensured Avery.
“Oh my, oh my sister. I guess I have no other choice then to allow you such. Though you must dress as the Harvest, act as the Harvest and to live amongst them for even a mere few hours you must undergo numerous vaccinations so that their toxins don’t seep into our blood. I guess I wish you all the luck I have my sister. Please be well. I shall have you back in the capitol once your daydreaming has completed. Bring to me any proof to the success of this I beg you. You are loved.” Avery said as he rose from the table.

To Watch, Raise and Harvest (Continued)

Today when I woke up I decided to stay in the shower and continuously lay as the water rained down on me. I felt that the water kept me alive, as though it was life itself. Though the amount of my fellow Raised roommates came in while I layed basking in my body’s thirst I did not budge. As I said we have no privacy. We have a public washroom, shared bedrooms and eyes upon our every move. As I layed being as unproductive as ever I was approached by my roommate. “Everlyn, what are you doing?” she asked upon a sigh,
“Well Zaria I need this water to feed my flesh, I do not plan to be out anytime soon.” I said high heartedly.
“What an unfortunate choice, I guess you’ll have to leave tomorrow morning to locate your brother then. I heard he had taken the train to the capitol. There must be a meeting of your blood.” Zaria’s tone laid flat, she envied my blood’s accomplishment. Her blood wasn’t strong enough and not many made it through childhood. It’s always unfortunate when Raised wed the Harvest - it risks your children’s life by making weaker genes.
I spent the remains of the night within the shower watching out the window as my fellow Raised sat around a fire talking, they seemed to always make life look how it should be. Whereas I could not grasp this concept thus why I laid upon the shower’s floor as it gently rained upon me. Until the Watchers came and took me to my bed. I was woken early to be prepared to leave. The Watchers cleaned me, powdered my skin and adorned me in the finest clothes, they packed my bags and did my hair and makeup. I did not lift a single finger. Though regardless I wouldn’t need to do such either.

I boarded an airship that soared me amongst the cloud to where robotic angels flew, their eyes had cameras and they were just satellites amongst the clouds with silk and the finest feathers. Being a Raised I was welcomed by the beings by name, they were programmed to know us by name and refer to us as the Blessings. Though the Staff came to feed me my appetite did not exist at this time. I knew once with my siblings that our dining would be very public and if not a publicity attempt.
Unlike the Harvest the Raised are allowed to breed more children, depending on their genetic coding and strength they are kept alive. My mother gave life to five children before passing due to unreasonable decisions she had made. Though her children are idolised amongst the Government and the Watchers, though they are envied by the fellow Raised.
My siblings are Avery a 21 year old businessman with a strong footing amongst the politicians and known celebrities. My sister Kai (20) who married into the Royals (which is foreign Government to say the least), Brindle my twin brother who I had remained with until he turned 18, apparently his chemist skills and knowledge within the sciences was some of the finest this world has ever seen. I myself am Everlyn also 18 years of age I am said to be the embodiment of my parents and siblings, quiet and yet extremely capable. Last but not least is my 16 year old baby sister, Harmony, she is one of the ten people in this nation that creates the ‘music’ and ‘art’ that is seen around us. Luckily I ensured she would make art that reminded her of what was so it may be more familiar than false and fake.

To Watch, Raise, and Harvest

There came a time when all the systems crashed, the public had been far too blind to even realize that “We The People” was a retired phrase. We were not the people, we had no longer any say amongst what occurred to ourselves, our families nor our friends. It was like we were all torn apart. The people you were surrounded by seemed to be but blank faces. But that’s not how it was for all of us. Some of us were lucky, we lived in communes where we were raised free of any harm that was released upon the ‘Harvest.’ We were given clean water to drink and bathe in, we even had soaps and shampoos. Our food was free of any harmful pesticides, we were some of the few who were actually fed to be kept alive.
We lived in what appeared to be a commune, a camp that was made up of a few shack buildings. Formerly abandoned, but that’s but only their disguise. They function perfectly, but are meant to look grotesque so we aren’ t attacked nor hunted. We’re known as the ‘Raised,’ though this is how I have lived all my life there’s more to it. You see we were born of genes that made us unique to others, we could function and use a majority of our brain that was closed off to the previous race. By raising us together they aim for us to mate, in hopes that our offspring one day will be a breed of man able to access 100% of what we never knew we had.
Though we appear to be spoiled we live an unfortunate life. We live with no privacy, once our identity becomes known depending on the reactions of others we could easily become hunted. Thus why we are stored far from the Harvest. We are allowed to work amongst the Harvest, but it greatly puts us at risk. I recall once when I had one of my weekly check-ups the foolish Government issued doctor had left a file cabinet open. Within five minutes I had read every file within the drawer and memorized every word. The way the Harvest live is similar to the ways of the Plastic Generation.
The Plastic Generation lived blindly, assuming their Government would make the right decisions. But the Government only wanted this paper and metal substance known as money. With money came power and with power came radical change. You see they never cared for the people let alone the planet. All they wanted was the power, so they themselves could put it towards.... well this and.... us. They never cared about the waste they made, nor the resources they drained. For with the money they put aside would sprout a race to fix it all. Perhaps one day the Raised will become the race they had planed. But from what I have seen and read, this planet and most the people on it are already dead.
With the Harvest they wake up every morning and depending on their age they either go to school or work. If they are an adult regardless of their skills they go to their desk job from 9am to 8pm and work mindlessly to make barely enough codes to put food on their table. The youth is taken on these strange white buses to what once was called school, but what they learn is not an education like that of the Raised. What they learn is only an illusion. A mask to the Government and lies to keep them blind. The truth is the Harvest are insignificant. They are only allowed to have two children to each family, you are not allowed to live past the age of 35, you are poisoned by men in Hazard suits with masks to keep them safe. They have no clean water, their life may appear to be how it once was. But the truth is they are treated like a 3rd Country though they may live in one of the remaining countries.