Desert Children
Posted: Sat Mar 29, 2025 2:35 pm
Writer's Note: This story is going to be larger in total scope than the typical tale told here. It will be more focused on character development
and the ENM/ENF scenes won't be as numerous. The setting is in the future, the exact number of years unknown.
Desert Children
Chapter 1. It started off as the perfect day
The day was perfect, a gentle breeze keeping the sun from getting too warm. The late afternoon temperatures can be scorching to the
inhabitants of the town at the edge of the wasteland. Mako was glad the poetry recitals are being done before the mid-day meal break.
As he walks along the cement pathway with his class, Mako glances at the squirrels darting between pecan trees. He envies them. Squirrels
don't go to class. Squirrels never have to rack their brains all night trying to get the words to flow perfectly from the pen, for the words to
flow without stutter or pause from a twisted tongue. Mako smiles, internally laughing at such envy of small wild rodents...'are squirrels
rodent?' he wonders. The enjoyment of watching the little critters chasing each other through the tree branches fits the theme of the poem
he wrote the night before. Mako hopes the teacher likes the words and is impressed. Many of the children in the class are younger than he
is, so he can't be the one to mess up his lines or have mucked-up phrases.
There is barely a winter season so far south in Calizona Province. The children are appropriately dressed for the weather, sleeveless tunic
shirts white and beige in color, knee length shorts. Being dressed in his school clothes didn't keep Mako from wishing he could slip from the
reading/writing class to chase squirrels through the park like a dog would.
"Hurry up, Mako. Don't lag behind." The teacher near the front of the group just scolded him, and Mako turns his attention back to the path,
skipping and hopping his way back to the group. Mrs. Jordana is a fair but no nonsense type of teacher. Any further dilly-dallying or continued
loss of focus could result in punishment. A second warning is often followed by the stinging pain of the electro stick on a bare shoulder.
A little girl turns to smile at him, though she looks a little apprehensive. "My tummy is all tumbly," Meera says while placing a hand on her
stomach. She uses the same round and round motion that kids use when they are hungry.
Mako tries not to chuckle too loudly, feeling butterflies in his own tummy. "You will do fine, Meera. You are not the only one who is nervous."
A folded up sheet of paper is retrieved from a front pocket of his shorts, a sudden panic attack making him think the poem had been forgotten.
Mako clutches the small sheet of paper in his left hand. He holds on, afraid of dropping it, having spent more than an hour working on it
for the big presentation. Meera, a girl two years younger than him, holds tightly to his right hand. Meera is the youngest and smallest kid in
the class, being only seven years old. Having no brothers or sisters, the much bigger Mako looked after her as if she were a younger sister.
Not having a clue what Meera wrote, Mako is eager to hear what she came up with, though he is definitely not eager about having to read his
own poem out loud.
The class of fifteen children, a mix of boys and girls, aged seven to nine, follows Mrs. Jordana on the path to the outdoor miniature
amphitheater. It has a small stage at one end of a circular series of wooden benches. The children take up two rows on one side of the seating
area, the teacher stands in between the first bench and the slightly raised stage. Mrs. Jordana, who is around fifty years old with just a touch
of graying hair, pulls out a small notebook from a pocket, along with a red colored pen.
Mako is relieved when the teacher decides to start with some other classmates. Not paying much attention to their recitations he looks at the
trees, he looks at the sky, mainly thinking about his poem. He's nervous. Speaking in front of an audience scares him. Mako does notice and
pay attention when Meera takes the stage. The little girl looks so fragile and the pony tail makes her cute. If Mako wanted a girl from his
class to see his home he'd invite Meera. Mako might like having a sister around if she were nice and sweet like the one who looks so nervous
as she steps up on the stage.
Meera stares at a sheet of paper in her hand. She doesn't look up as she reads.
"My dog is my friend
he warms my bed on a cold day
and he watches over me
when sleep has come my way."
Looking up, Meera smiles as a light patter of handclaps comes from the other students. Only Mako clapped with any vigor and enthusiasm.
Unfortunately, most of the other students appear to be bored, staring at their shoes or fiddling their fingers. After the girl steps down, the
teacher pats her on the back.
"That's very good. Now for Mako. Is your poem ready?"
His smile feeling fake, feet dragging like lead boots, Mako goes up the steps. His fingers tremble and he hopes nobody notices. Looking at the
poem written on the sheet of paper, Mako realizes it has the same number of lines as Meera's poem. 'Dang it...have I done no better than a
seven year old?' Mako thinks to himself, already doubting the quality of his effort. Having studied it so much since last night, Mako thinks he can
do one thing to improve his chances for a good grade. Don't read the poem. Don't look down. Say it out loud while looking at the audience.
"I call this 'Freedom Is Not A Cloud'. I hope you like it."
Mako looks up at Mrs. Jordana, as he tries to flash a smile. He looks at the class and some of them are looking at him, some staring
disinterestedly at something else.
"I sit and watch the birds fly
I wonder where they've been
Sometimes I watch the clouds float by
Sitting here I am left behind."
Mako hears the tepid applause at first, but the sounds fade as he notices a man running toward the amphitheater. This guy runs along the
pathway, and he seems to be wearing the blue and white uniform of a security forces cadet. The cadet shouts something as he comes closer,
but Mako can't hear what is being said. The shouting gets the attention of the teacher and the other students. Turning their bodies on the
wooden benches, they watch the running man come nearer.
Slowing down his run, the cadet shouts again. "The Eddonites are coming. Run!...find your families and run!"
and the ENM/ENF scenes won't be as numerous. The setting is in the future, the exact number of years unknown.
Desert Children
Chapter 1. It started off as the perfect day
The day was perfect, a gentle breeze keeping the sun from getting too warm. The late afternoon temperatures can be scorching to the
inhabitants of the town at the edge of the wasteland. Mako was glad the poetry recitals are being done before the mid-day meal break.
As he walks along the cement pathway with his class, Mako glances at the squirrels darting between pecan trees. He envies them. Squirrels
don't go to class. Squirrels never have to rack their brains all night trying to get the words to flow perfectly from the pen, for the words to
flow without stutter or pause from a twisted tongue. Mako smiles, internally laughing at such envy of small wild rodents...'are squirrels
rodent?' he wonders. The enjoyment of watching the little critters chasing each other through the tree branches fits the theme of the poem
he wrote the night before. Mako hopes the teacher likes the words and is impressed. Many of the children in the class are younger than he
is, so he can't be the one to mess up his lines or have mucked-up phrases.
There is barely a winter season so far south in Calizona Province. The children are appropriately dressed for the weather, sleeveless tunic
shirts white and beige in color, knee length shorts. Being dressed in his school clothes didn't keep Mako from wishing he could slip from the
reading/writing class to chase squirrels through the park like a dog would.
"Hurry up, Mako. Don't lag behind." The teacher near the front of the group just scolded him, and Mako turns his attention back to the path,
skipping and hopping his way back to the group. Mrs. Jordana is a fair but no nonsense type of teacher. Any further dilly-dallying or continued
loss of focus could result in punishment. A second warning is often followed by the stinging pain of the electro stick on a bare shoulder.
A little girl turns to smile at him, though she looks a little apprehensive. "My tummy is all tumbly," Meera says while placing a hand on her
stomach. She uses the same round and round motion that kids use when they are hungry.
Mako tries not to chuckle too loudly, feeling butterflies in his own tummy. "You will do fine, Meera. You are not the only one who is nervous."
A folded up sheet of paper is retrieved from a front pocket of his shorts, a sudden panic attack making him think the poem had been forgotten.
Mako clutches the small sheet of paper in his left hand. He holds on, afraid of dropping it, having spent more than an hour working on it
for the big presentation. Meera, a girl two years younger than him, holds tightly to his right hand. Meera is the youngest and smallest kid in
the class, being only seven years old. Having no brothers or sisters, the much bigger Mako looked after her as if she were a younger sister.
Not having a clue what Meera wrote, Mako is eager to hear what she came up with, though he is definitely not eager about having to read his
own poem out loud.
The class of fifteen children, a mix of boys and girls, aged seven to nine, follows Mrs. Jordana on the path to the outdoor miniature
amphitheater. It has a small stage at one end of a circular series of wooden benches. The children take up two rows on one side of the seating
area, the teacher stands in between the first bench and the slightly raised stage. Mrs. Jordana, who is around fifty years old with just a touch
of graying hair, pulls out a small notebook from a pocket, along with a red colored pen.
Mako is relieved when the teacher decides to start with some other classmates. Not paying much attention to their recitations he looks at the
trees, he looks at the sky, mainly thinking about his poem. He's nervous. Speaking in front of an audience scares him. Mako does notice and
pay attention when Meera takes the stage. The little girl looks so fragile and the pony tail makes her cute. If Mako wanted a girl from his
class to see his home he'd invite Meera. Mako might like having a sister around if she were nice and sweet like the one who looks so nervous
as she steps up on the stage.
Meera stares at a sheet of paper in her hand. She doesn't look up as she reads.
"My dog is my friend
he warms my bed on a cold day
and he watches over me
when sleep has come my way."
Looking up, Meera smiles as a light patter of handclaps comes from the other students. Only Mako clapped with any vigor and enthusiasm.
Unfortunately, most of the other students appear to be bored, staring at their shoes or fiddling their fingers. After the girl steps down, the
teacher pats her on the back.
"That's very good. Now for Mako. Is your poem ready?"
His smile feeling fake, feet dragging like lead boots, Mako goes up the steps. His fingers tremble and he hopes nobody notices. Looking at the
poem written on the sheet of paper, Mako realizes it has the same number of lines as Meera's poem. 'Dang it...have I done no better than a
seven year old?' Mako thinks to himself, already doubting the quality of his effort. Having studied it so much since last night, Mako thinks he can
do one thing to improve his chances for a good grade. Don't read the poem. Don't look down. Say it out loud while looking at the audience.
"I call this 'Freedom Is Not A Cloud'. I hope you like it."
Mako looks up at Mrs. Jordana, as he tries to flash a smile. He looks at the class and some of them are looking at him, some staring
disinterestedly at something else.
"I sit and watch the birds fly
I wonder where they've been
Sometimes I watch the clouds float by
Sitting here I am left behind."
Mako hears the tepid applause at first, but the sounds fade as he notices a man running toward the amphitheater. This guy runs along the
pathway, and he seems to be wearing the blue and white uniform of a security forces cadet. The cadet shouts something as he comes closer,
but Mako can't hear what is being said. The shouting gets the attention of the teacher and the other students. Turning their bodies on the
wooden benches, they watch the running man come nearer.
Slowing down his run, the cadet shouts again. "The Eddonites are coming. Run!...find your families and run!"