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IRIS LEE AND THE SHADOW LORD - Ch. 1: "I Escape Prison (Dad Would Be Proud)"

it's not actually a prison, just a mental hospital.

When you think of mental hospitals what do you think of?

Right, crazy people in straight jackets.

So you might ask yourself, well Iris is probably crazy since she's in a mental hospital, right? Nope, I'm good. really. I’m as sane as you get in a mental hospital. I came here on purpose when i was younger, unfortunately.

My life wasn't the best.

I got the fantastic idea to act mentally ill so I could leave my home (i was desperate, okay?)

I went to my library and read books on ‘mental disorders.’ My acting was so good I was ‘all of the above.’ Unfortunately, it worked. (they were a bit confused when I started to act normal. Good thing I read a little extra into mental illness stuff or I would’ve gotten caught).

I told them once that I was forgetting things about myself. But of course, I remember.

My name is Iris Lee, yadda yadda. I'm Hispanic, my hair is black and bushy and my eyes are so brown they look black as well. I was born on November 16th, and my birthstone is Topaz, and my birth flower is Chrysanthemum. Why am I telling you this?

I don't know, but you're now cool for knowing me.

So, here I am, sitting in this plain white bed I've slept in since I was eight.

It's not all bad.

No wait, yes it is.

It's been the same white color since I got here; believe me, I've tried to change that. The walls are white, the sheets are white, the curtains are white, doors, super baby-proofed window sill, floor, ceiling, cabinets, white, white, white, white, white -you guessed it- white.

Even the clothes they make us wear as the uniform is a white, button-up, long-sleeved shirt with loose white pants like pajamas.

So, Iris, you’re maybe thinking, why do you hate it? You wanted to come there.

Well, maybe perhaps because being stuck in a prison isn't exactly what I had in mind. that, my friends, is why I'm leaving.

I open the drawer in my bedside table, inside, is a keycard. One day, we were outside and i needed to use the bathroom. So I asked a lady who worked here and she gave me a keycard so I could go inside to use the bathroom. When i tried giving it back, she denied she ever gave it to me, so i kept it.

I never saw her again after that day.

And so I walked to the door across the room to my right; Ashton’s room, and I slid the key card through the card sensor.

With a snap the door opened.

The room looked just like mine, white everything.

On the bed lay Ashton Mason, he wore the same mental hospital uniform, like mine. He has shaggy, platinum-blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Hey, Eyeball,” he said, sitting up to face me.

My nickname is Eyeball. He calls me that because there's that part of your eye called an ‘Iris’. yeah.

“Hey Ashton,” I replied. “Have you been thinking about my offer?”

He shook his head. “You know I can't Iris, I have a mom to get home to when I get out, assuming Dad is still in prison. And I don't think its a good idea, what if we get caught? My mom can't stand being alone for so long, not after Cora.”

Cora was Ashton’s older sister, Ashton had a picture of her and his parents on his bedside table, and she looked a lot like Ashton, with her platinum blonde hair and blue eyes. She was about ten when she died from an unknown cause.

“Quit worrying,” I chided. “We won't get caught.”

“I can't Iris,” he muttered. “If we get caught, they'll just make us stay longer. They'll assume I'm still ill. Even more than they do now.”

“You know they'll never let us go anyways.” I sighed. “So we might as well take our chance.”

“I can’t, I'm sorry.”

“Whatever,” I hissed.

Ashton has been my friend since I got here. leaving would mean losing my only friend, and I wasn't very ecstatic about that.

“Look,” I mumbled. “I'm sorry, but I gotta do this, or ill go insane.”

“‘Kay.” he breathed.

“I might not see you again after this.”

He got off his bed and walked to the side I was standing on and hugged me. “Stay safe Iris. I'll uhm, miss you.”

“I will, and I'll miss you as well.”

He pulled away and laid back down on his bed. “Bye,”

“Bye,” I muttered

I walked back into my room and shut the door behind me. I was really going to miss him.

I walked to the other side of my room where there was another door. Behind it was a girl named Dione. She's not really my friend, but we talk sometimes even though she creeps me out; she constantly speaks of spirits that speak to her in her head, she seems fine for a bit then pauses; then talks about spirits; then doesn't talk. It's probably the weirdest thing I've seen, and I live in California. You must think I know what's going on with her since I read those mental illness books, but the truth is; no I don't. I hardly remember what I read now considering I read it, what, Five years ago? The reason I know how to act the way I do is because I've been doing it for so long, and i'll get in big trouble if they find out I've been screwing with them for five years. And I really don't want to go home.

I knocked on Dione’s door.

“Come in.” chirped Dione from inside.

I came inside

Dione was a girl around ten-or-eleven, she had long, curly brown hair with blonde highlights, her skin was a pale butterscotch and her eyes were hazel. She's nice when she's not acting weird.

“Hi,” she said. “Are you leaving today?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “You can come if you want.”

“No,” she bit her nail. “The spirits wouldn't like that.”

I Told you.

“Ooh-kay,” I stepped back in caution. “You tell yourself that.”

Dione started staring blankly at the wall.

“Well,” I finally said. “Bye.”

“The spirits told me you are very special...” she mused.

“What?” I asked.

She didn't reply.

Maybe, I thought, If I say ‘bye’ again she’ll explain.

I cleared my throat. “bye.”

She waved thoughtfully but didn't reply.

Wow. She doesn't need new medicine, I thought. What she needs is a priest.

I left the room, good timing too, it was time for my “new medicine”.

The nurse and doctor wore white coats, the nurse’s name was Nurse Smith, and the doctor was Dr. Martinez.

Dr. Marinez wasn't a jerk, he spoke calmly to the patients, but sternly to the nurses and other workers like he expected them to mess up horribly; which they do. He speaks to the patients softly like he expects them to cooperate; which they don’t.

Nurse Smith is a total full-blown jerk. He knows it too. But he’s been nicer to me ‘cause I threatened to tell his boss about him going out with the secretary. Which isn't allowed.

“Here is your medicine.” The Nurse muttered.

So why am I taking the meds and not just running away? Two reasons; Smith and Martinez always fight about something, anything. So I will wait until the time is right. And if I leave while they're not here, they'll be sent after me to bring me back (i swear, it's like they appear out of nowhere). On Wednesdays, they cover for every other doctor and nurse who isn't here. They took that job because they get paid a lot more. Plus there are cameras in my room, and by the time they would stop fighting and realize I'm gone, I would've already kissed the mental hospital goodbye and been kissing freedom hello.

“Thanks,” I grinned.

“What are you grinning about?” he snapped.

“Doctor Martinez,” I called. Am I a brat? Yes. And I've made peace with that.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.”

The medicine was blue in a small dosing cup, I drank it and it tasted like trash. Literally.

While I was drinking the meds, the doctor looked at me and his eyes widened.

“The medicine was supposed to be red. Smith, why is it blue?”

“Wasn't the medicine on A-453?” Smith replied.

“No,” the doctor growled. “It was on B-543. All the drugs from the A fridge are untested you- you- IDIOT.”

“Well, now we know what it does! Quit worrying, see? She looks fine” the Nurse complained.

“That's not the point.”

They move across the room away from me to argue, if they were smart, they would go into the hallway to argue or at least keep an eye on me.

So what did I tell you? They know nothing. So while they were bickering, I was slipping out of bed. They stupidly left the door open so leaving was no problem.

Now for the hard part; actually leaving.

The meds hadn't kicked in, or it had and it didn't do anything. I'm not entirely sure how medicine works.

I walked down the hall, the floor was a dull grey and the walls were white. Lined all down the hall were doors with patients lying in beds inside, they all looked miserable except for the few whose parents or relatives had stopped by. I wished my grandmother was still alive. I'm sure she would’ve visited me.

I walked down the hall and took the elevator down to the fifth floor. The doors were locked so only doctors, nurses, or whoever had a master keycard could use them, good thing I had this keycard. I walked to the storage room where they kept patients' belongings that we brought here from home and didn't have to “keep us safe." Really, what are we gonna do? Stab ourselves with our plush animals? or become blinded by the colors that aren't white we apparently weren't allowed to see? Seriously?

Since most of the doctors weren't working, the halls weren't crowded. And it was pretty easy getting in. The storage room was as big as a school cafeteria. Shelves lined the walls and everyone's stuff was in large Tupperware. It took me a while to find mine before I realized it was organized by floor number, so I looked for floor six and found it. I took my Tupperware box down from one of the shelves and took a look.

I got here when I was eight… so almost none of my clothing fit except the ones I had brought for this occasion; a baby blue blazer, a black and white striped long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, and black boots. All of which are stolen. haha. I always think ahead. I'm a genius. Besides, they’d never think to look for stolen goods in a mental hospital.

There also was a backpack and a water bottle. I forgot I packed that.

I quickly put the clothes on, they looked great on me. I'm a genius.

I put my old uniform clothes in the bin and put them back on the shelf. I felt my heart rate getting a bit faster but I assumed it was from the excitement of finally leaving.

I got back in the elevator and go down to the first floor. The main room on the first floor is the front desk which is right by the elevator. I held my breath and leaned back onto the back elevator wall, but the receptionist doesn't look at me. I relaxed and crawled my way to the desk so if she got up, she wouldn't see me. What I didn't tell you is what I have in my pockets; pebbles from outside. Just small rocks, but great for distractions. I threw the rock across the room. The lady didn't seem to notice. I threw a slightly larger one. That got her attention. She looked in my direction and didn't see me. And started to walk towards the small rock. I threw a rock across the room in my direction, so it would make her think it came from her side of the room, good thing there's a hallway on the side she's on. She starts down the hallway yelling for Smith to stop hitting on her when they're at work. I stifle a laugh. Only in California, folks…

I start to feel a little nauseous. But I assume its the adrenaline, I needed to go. Especially because there's a voice on the PA system alerting others that I have escaped. Oh boy.

So I ran as fast as possible. Becoming more and more aware of my nausea. I'm starting to think that the medicine was poison, but I don't stop. I will not go back there. Ever.

When I stopped, I was deep in the woods, I don't know if any of the employees from the hospital were following me, but if they were, I'm sure I lost them.

I felt awful, my mouth full of saliva from my nausea, and my body ached.

I tried breathing through my nose and out my mouth as my grandmother taught me when I got sick from eating bad food, it's supposed to make nausea better.

My grandmother was the only relative I felt actually loved me. On my wrist is a blue ribbon, the same color as my jacket, perhaps a little lighter. I wouldn't let the doctors take it away, I fought them before they gave up (you don't want to see me in fight mode). My grandmother gave it to me after I broke her vase. She had called it the ‘ribbon of forgiveness.’ She gave me tons of ribbons, one at a time, for each lesson and talk we would have. But I cherished this one the most. It showed she cared about me. Why did she leave me? Why did she have to die? My heart is racing. My stomach hurts. The medicine is kicking in. I sit down at the root of a large tree. My vision is blurry. The corners of my vision is darkening. Tears form in my eyes; I don't want to die like this. I wish I could just talk to Ashton again. Perhaps give Dione a hug, I should've been nicer to her, it's not her fault she's weird. I stand up and start pacing, hoping it would help. I see my vision getting darker.

I feel myself lose my lunch. And I fall over before losing consciousness.

#IRIS LEE AND THE SHADOW LORD SS #my writing #creative writing #my stories #books #my books #fiction #fantasy

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project-sunniva-sterling · 1 month

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Fight or Flight? Part 1:chapter 1

Chapter one: Family Gathering.

July 29th, 2020.

Pov: Caramel.

I wake up in my bed.

Today is warm, so i have no trouble hopping out of my bed. I head to my bathroom. It's door is inside my bedroom. The bathroom is small. It has a toilet, a bathtub, and a sink and mirror. unfortunately, my mirror is cracked in some places. I smile at myself in the mirror.

I have tan skin, bright green eyes, and my hair is a dark green, but in the sun, it reveals its not actually the color it looks like, which is black, but is actually green. My hair is a little above shoulder length and is straight. I have these weird thin wavy lines on places like my elbows, wrists, neck, finger joints, knees, etc, and my mom had called them joint"illustrations." they are a pale green, and everyone I know has them. And I look just like everyone who lives in Agate county. Same hair color and type, same eyes, same skin tone.

Everyone I had ever met only looked this way. Except that one man I had met when I was little.

My mother is allergic to strawberries. Each week, every family receives a box with food, and someone had accidentally put strawberries in our delivery box. So, my mom and I had to walk a few miles to the center of our city, where the train delivers our food and people put the food in boxes for us depending on our food preferences and diet. We had came to trade our strawberries for something else my mother could eat. when we got there, my mom left me outside while she spoke to the food delivery manager.

And that's when I saw him. He sat in one of the boxcars with his feet dangling out. He looked at be middle aged. He had this pale skin and yellow hair and blue eyes.

"Sir," I walked up to him. "Are you sick sir?" "What?" He said to me."oh, hello young Vicoay, nope, I'm not sick."

"I'm from Coral County." He said.

"Where's that? I've never heard of… Coral County in my life."

"But you look so pale!" I said.

I've never seen a man look like this in my entire life.

The man had leans closer to me, I hopped into the boxcar and sat next to him.

The man whispers, "It's… former California."

"What's a 'California?'

The man looked around nervously. "Well, I dunno if that's what it actually used to be called… Its just what I heard since I was little." My mother called my name and I hopped down off of the boxcar and walked over to my mother. "Little Vicoay," shouted the man to me,

The man had walked into the boxcar and after a few seconds came out with a glass jar filled with honey and handed it out to me. I walked back to him and took the jar to my mother, who thanked him as soon as saw the honey jar.

Honey isn't very common here like it used to be. Honey bees are very hostile.

When we got back home, I told my friends about the pale man and they said they didn't believe me. So one day, once we all got older, I brought them there and the same guy was hauling large boxes around. My friends stared, amazed that I had been right.

But that had so long ago, I might've been around 6 when I first saw the man and 10 when I had last saw him. I remember when he had saw us and waved. one of my friends still brings him up sometimes.

I think she might've liked his pale skin.

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#Fight or flight Sunniva Sterling #fiction #my writing #books #my books #oc stuff #my characters #dystopian #Dystopia #dystopian fiction #dystopian society

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