(no subject)
Stolen from bellacatbee, who stole it from someone else. We have no shame.
Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.
Dean had never seen the sky. Slaves lived in the surface slums, in the tumble-down ruins of old tenement blocks from the city's glorious past. The air was recycled down there, thick and full of smog, the light artificial and space scarce. But it was home, and Dean looked after his brothers the best way he could. He was a gladiator, owned by the state for the purpose of entertaining its Citizens and while the money he won could have easily provided for several large families, what little was gifted to him was hardly enough to keep his brothers clothed. They were fed, at least, as minors and property of the state, and they had to do little real work, gong to lessons with the old and infirm slaves that taught the neighbourhood's children what little they could of science and math and poetry.
This is from the dystopia story I'm working on. I have no idea when I'll get it finished, it's 4000 words already and Castiel's only just been introduced and I could go on foooooooooorever.
Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project -- published, submitted, in progress, for your cat -- whatever.
Dean had never seen the sky. Slaves lived in the surface slums, in the tumble-down ruins of old tenement blocks from the city's glorious past. The air was recycled down there, thick and full of smog, the light artificial and space scarce. But it was home, and Dean looked after his brothers the best way he could. He was a gladiator, owned by the state for the purpose of entertaining its Citizens and while the money he won could have easily provided for several large families, what little was gifted to him was hardly enough to keep his brothers clothed. They were fed, at least, as minors and property of the state, and they had to do little real work, gong to lessons with the old and infirm slaves that taught the neighbourhood's children what little they could of science and math and poetry.
This is from the dystopia story I'm working on. I have no idea when I'll get it finished, it's 4000 words already and Castiel's only just been introduced and I could go on foooooooooorever.