K
Kitty Chanter
Guest
Original poster
The wind blew softly against the rubble covered land, the golden sun was almost fully below the horizon line. Streaks of fading orange and pink beginning to turn purple was left in the cool air, it would be twilight soon. Sitting on an old worn tire, arms lightly crossed over a knee that rested close to her face, one leg extended to the ground, a curvy girl in ripped jeans and a long sleeved black faded shirt sat.
The girl sighed, looking up and with bored eyes at the few soft clouds that dusted the sky. She sat near her bunker, waiting for water in the large pot to boil. She didn't want to have to heat water into the night, even though there was a little smoke, any smoke in general can bring people to know where she is. There was a half dead tree nearby, leaning to one side, a ripped up tarp looked like it had caught on one of the branches. The tarp and tree almost made a lean-to looking tent type shade, and under it was a large rusty wash bucket covered with old and dirtied saran wrap. Other various item were strewn about, so the area didn't look so suspicious. Old scrap metal, the skeleton of an old car- any parts worth keeping from the thing were long gone by now.
But near the old tire was the girl's home, a bunker underneath the ground. It used to be the basement to a large building of some sort, there was crumbled concrete and piled up chairs, broken computers, and wrappers which is why she guessed this. A tin door was the only way to get in, it kept the bugs and rain out, and on a good day she kept the little hatch open to get new air circulation through it.
The door is about three feet wide, by three and a half of rusty tin. It looked like it might have been from the roof of a large mobile home, or two-way house. If you were to lift it and peer inside, you would see a ladder that goes down about eleven feet deep into the dark. Underneath is all concrete and metal, and it's a single rectangular room that's thirteen feet wide and about twelve wide. The space between the celling and the floor was only about 8 feet on one side, and it had opposite stairs on the celling to where the stairs used to be, but were no longer.
In this place which Mickayla called her home, were all of her knick-knacks and belongings. She did rather well for living in the new world, many struggled, and she did to a point. But not like others, who fought tooth and nail for a glass of water. Which is ironic because the hardest thing for her to get, was water. Mickayla traded almost solely for clean water.
Taking the pot off the stove and smothering the fire with her sole, Mickayla went under the tarp and poured the water into the saran covered tub, which was already half full of warm water. Out of a large pitcher she poured lukewarm water in, that had been heated during the day from the sun. She'd rather it not be too hot.
Before stepping in, the girl threw the pot upside-down on the ground to let any water drip out, and had a look around. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue, almost as deep as the nighttime sky, and it was starting to become night. She only took baths during night for the sole reason of cover, then again, baths were a luxury many didn't receive. And whenever she could take one she would. The girl had done good today, very good. She felt she deserved it. She had found an old egg laying hen, and upon realization she couldn't keep the thing herself, she came back with a borrowed-wagon full of water jugs. From the road she then carried them back to the bunker, because she didn't want the man who owned the wagon to see her home, and it had taken a couple trips. But it was well worth it.
"Very well worth it." She whispered, stripping off her clothes beneath the tarp and slipping into the tub. It revealed her very unusaully pale skin, for most people in warmer climates were tan because the sun. She though, was part albino, or her mother had been. Anemic as well. An old beaten up excuse for a towel, which looked more like a rag at this point, was flat on one side of the dirty ground. The other side clean. Mickayla liked predictability and ritual, part of her diagnosed OCD when she was young and the world was much better than this.
She took her bath in peace, a shot gun resting against the side of the tub. The tub was much too small for the girl, but getting the dirt and grime off and having the warm water slip down her body was one of the possibly best feelings Mickayla had ever experienced. Her hair was a wavy blonde that curled down her back and covered her chest, the tips a bright red color. This left many people confused, but with explination people understood.
Mickayla, about three years ago, found many, many cartons filled with kool aid... At first she tried to drink it, but Kool Aid is extremely bitter without adding sugar, and sugar was a rarity. So, she didn't know what to do with the useless stuff, alls she knew is it died her hands and was good for marking places she had been. Once, boiling this dye to mark an area, she had turned her head upon hearing a noise, and her long hair had fallen over her shoulder into the pot.
This was how she found out that hair could be dyed with Kool Aid. And so she did, because really, what are you gonna do with big wooden cartons filled with Kool Aid anyway? Atleast it brought a little adventure into her life. It made people question her, or wonder if she was wealthy. Then again it didn't help she also used the Kool Aid to make a lipstick. Lipstick doesn't really exist 10 years into the New World. So it makes people think your a higher rank.
And people with higher ranks seem to get a lot of trade offers. So Mickayla was in pretty good condition.
(Sorry for poor spelling or things that don't make sense, I'm really tired for some reason...)
The girl sighed, looking up and with bored eyes at the few soft clouds that dusted the sky. She sat near her bunker, waiting for water in the large pot to boil. She didn't want to have to heat water into the night, even though there was a little smoke, any smoke in general can bring people to know where she is. There was a half dead tree nearby, leaning to one side, a ripped up tarp looked like it had caught on one of the branches. The tarp and tree almost made a lean-to looking tent type shade, and under it was a large rusty wash bucket covered with old and dirtied saran wrap. Other various item were strewn about, so the area didn't look so suspicious. Old scrap metal, the skeleton of an old car- any parts worth keeping from the thing were long gone by now.
But near the old tire was the girl's home, a bunker underneath the ground. It used to be the basement to a large building of some sort, there was crumbled concrete and piled up chairs, broken computers, and wrappers which is why she guessed this. A tin door was the only way to get in, it kept the bugs and rain out, and on a good day she kept the little hatch open to get new air circulation through it.
The door is about three feet wide, by three and a half of rusty tin. It looked like it might have been from the roof of a large mobile home, or two-way house. If you were to lift it and peer inside, you would see a ladder that goes down about eleven feet deep into the dark. Underneath is all concrete and metal, and it's a single rectangular room that's thirteen feet wide and about twelve wide. The space between the celling and the floor was only about 8 feet on one side, and it had opposite stairs on the celling to where the stairs used to be, but were no longer.
In this place which Mickayla called her home, were all of her knick-knacks and belongings. She did rather well for living in the new world, many struggled, and she did to a point. But not like others, who fought tooth and nail for a glass of water. Which is ironic because the hardest thing for her to get, was water. Mickayla traded almost solely for clean water.
Taking the pot off the stove and smothering the fire with her sole, Mickayla went under the tarp and poured the water into the saran covered tub, which was already half full of warm water. Out of a large pitcher she poured lukewarm water in, that had been heated during the day from the sun. She'd rather it not be too hot.
Before stepping in, the girl threw the pot upside-down on the ground to let any water drip out, and had a look around. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue, almost as deep as the nighttime sky, and it was starting to become night. She only took baths during night for the sole reason of cover, then again, baths were a luxury many didn't receive. And whenever she could take one she would. The girl had done good today, very good. She felt she deserved it. She had found an old egg laying hen, and upon realization she couldn't keep the thing herself, she came back with a borrowed-wagon full of water jugs. From the road she then carried them back to the bunker, because she didn't want the man who owned the wagon to see her home, and it had taken a couple trips. But it was well worth it.
"Very well worth it." She whispered, stripping off her clothes beneath the tarp and slipping into the tub. It revealed her very unusaully pale skin, for most people in warmer climates were tan because the sun. She though, was part albino, or her mother had been. Anemic as well. An old beaten up excuse for a towel, which looked more like a rag at this point, was flat on one side of the dirty ground. The other side clean. Mickayla liked predictability and ritual, part of her diagnosed OCD when she was young and the world was much better than this.
She took her bath in peace, a shot gun resting against the side of the tub. The tub was much too small for the girl, but getting the dirt and grime off and having the warm water slip down her body was one of the possibly best feelings Mickayla had ever experienced. Her hair was a wavy blonde that curled down her back and covered her chest, the tips a bright red color. This left many people confused, but with explination people understood.
Mickayla, about three years ago, found many, many cartons filled with kool aid... At first she tried to drink it, but Kool Aid is extremely bitter without adding sugar, and sugar was a rarity. So, she didn't know what to do with the useless stuff, alls she knew is it died her hands and was good for marking places she had been. Once, boiling this dye to mark an area, she had turned her head upon hearing a noise, and her long hair had fallen over her shoulder into the pot.
This was how she found out that hair could be dyed with Kool Aid. And so she did, because really, what are you gonna do with big wooden cartons filled with Kool Aid anyway? Atleast it brought a little adventure into her life. It made people question her, or wonder if she was wealthy. Then again it didn't help she also used the Kool Aid to make a lipstick. Lipstick doesn't really exist 10 years into the New World. So it makes people think your a higher rank.
And people with higher ranks seem to get a lot of trade offers. So Mickayla was in pretty good condition.
(Sorry for poor spelling or things that don't make sense, I'm really tired for some reason...)
