Chapter 1

I awaken to the chill of the room of where I sleep.  I turn from my side to my back, the cool feel of the mattress below making every hair on my body stand up. A great part of me pleads to tuck my head under the bed sheets, and surrender myself to a long awaited slumber. Though cruelly, a thought forms in the back of my brain. In its' own, annoying way, it orders me--almost nagging, truly--to get up.

         No matter how hard I've tried, I couldn't find a way to push the thought out. Instead, it seemed to be growing, thinking its' purpose is to to take control of every part of my body.

I choke down the temptation to groan as I slowly place my frozen feet on the floor. I wrap a ratty blanket around my shoulders as I arise from bed.

         Around me, I see the bodies of a hundred-fifty sleeping girls, all curled up inside their bed sheets. All of those whom' faces peer out from under the thin layer of fabric bear the exact same look: eyebrows pulled together, eyes shut tight, and the ever-so-common quivering blue lips. Even in their sleep, they are not peaceful.

I wince every time the old wooden boards  would creak and moan with my every step. I force myself not to let out a sigh of relief as I reach a place where a door should be. Instead, I walk out onto the porch, not at all welcoming the blast of ice-cold wind that pounds against my face. My teeth start to chatter ever more so.

I tip-toe down the three steps of stairs and feel my feet touch the rough surface of the dirt road. And then, I take off.

There is a loud roar in my ears as I sprint down the road, as nothing but a mere shadow at the peak of dawn. I make my way, passing cabins; making sure that no one can see me. I finally reach an old wooden building. A sign is placed over the door, and even though I know what it will say, I read it: Bail's Kitchen.

I hop up the stairs of the building, and place my right hand on the crusty old door knob. Before entering, I give the door a gentle tap; loud enough for one inside to hear it, soft enough for no one else to be able to. A few moments later, I turn the knob.

I am greeted with a motionless room full of empty chairs and tables. When I return at noon, the thought of such a quiet and empty space in this little building is to be nothing but absurd.

Though I see no one to be in sight, the smell of eggs and pancakes fill the air, and my mouth waters.

"Bail," I almost whisper. "Bail, what are you cooking?" I walk by the counter and enter the kitchen, where sure enough, the old woman stands flipping the pastry over the stove.

She does not look at me.

Through my grogginess, I force myself to smile. "Mmm; smells good." I say. "Need any help with that?" I gesture towards the rusty sink, which around fifty crusty plates are piled high within.

Still no answer,

"Here, I'll wash two." Though I feel that we are alone, the habit of staying quiet at such an early time lingers. As I dry the last dish, Bail flips the last pancake. I set the two plates on the counter, as she sets the pancakes and eggs on the table.

I wait for her to arrive and get comfortable, and then we both take our food and eat in peace. I take a pancake and graciously feel it's warmth upon my fingers. Here, we have no utensils.

I sink my teeth into the soft texture, and sigh as its' heat caresses my tongue. I swallow, and repeat.

I know that my time here is limited, yet I slowly chew and saviour each bite. It takes me about ten minutes to finish two slices of pancakes--I switch to the cooling eggs.

We finish not too long after, and it's time to do what I came here for.

"So anything new happen?" I ask.

She sighs and says, "No; no not yet." She dabs the corner of her mouth with a little towel. "Nothing has really changed since the day before..." She pauses, and then shakes her head. She's keeping something from me. The urge to ask her tugs at my insides, though I know that I can't rush her. I bit down on my tongue.

Bail is the only person on campus who is neither an instructor, nor a guard. She's the one who would cook; sew clothing; and clean. She resembles the mother of this place. Though she does not tuck us in bed at night or sing lullabyies, she is the closest thing to a family we have.

None of us knows who and where our real parents are. At the age of two, we were all taken away by the government to be sent to train in an unknown place located in North America. The government does this to all the children in the world; circled by the same electic fense; sent to live on the same waterless land. The camp was built to contain only three hundred youths; one-hundred-fifty are males, the other one-hundred-fifty females.

         Right now, there is a total of three-hundred children--in the entire world. The world population? An exact number of ten-thousand; no more, no less. If there is more, easily fixed by a gun. If there is less, then twenty pairs of both male and female will be chosen to marry in one day. The woman is required to give birth in the next nine months. The government will take the children of the needed sex, and compare them to see of whom presents to be the healthiest. Once a child is chosen, the other nineteen-or-so are taken away from their parents and killed. The surviving child is to stay with it's mother until the age of two.  

         As if we were in a fight, Bail shoots a feirce look in my direction. Startled, I jump, grabbing the edge of the counter to keep me from falling. Her hand is raised in place, and I prepare to clutch my cheek at the coming pain. I watch as her hand cuts through the air, her palm slamming against a glass jar. It soars through the air, exploding into a million tiny pices as it meets the wooden wall that sits across from us. The group of knifes that were held in it crash to the floor, the dim light of morning reflecting against their worn metal.

         I stare at the shards of glass, wide-eyed. I open my mouth to say something, but what could possibly be said?

         Bail places her two bare feet onto the wooden floor, and she lifts herself up until she is standing, her back faced towards me. She makes her way around the counter, and dissapears into the kitchen; my signal to leave.

         I hug the blanket more tightly as I make my way to the door. The sun peeks above the horizon, and if I want to make it back unnoticed, I'll have to duct underneath all the cabins and buildings.

         I now tie the blanket around my waist and lie face-down towards the ground. I place one elbow infront my other, and begin to crawl.

         By the time I reach my cabin, my body is sleak with sweat and my forearms are covered in new scrapes and bruises.

         I climb into my bed and force myself to breath steadily and slowly, as though I were to be asleep. I untie the fabric that still clings to my waist and tuck it in around my shaking body. The wind turns my skin into ice, and I imagine the sweat that coats me freezing, making it no longer possible for me to move. The thought frightens me.

         I tuck my head under the blankets the way I had desired to do so before, and tried to fill the small space with my warm breath. I hugged my knees up to my chest and breathed through my mouth, desperatly trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

         I know that I can not fit in any more sleep; not like this. The instructors will enter our cabin in a few minutes, ripping the bed sheets off our bodies to wake us up. I always pop my head out of the covers before any of them could even touch me--the surpirse look on their face is always amusing.

         I watch puffs of clouds exit my mouth as I exhale, and place my throbbing red fingers between them. This barely does me any good.

         I hear about two dozen pairs of feet stomp against the dirt that leads to our compartment. Soon the sound of the stomps pounds against the hollow wooden steps, and into the small room.

         I here the sound of whipping fabric, and the occasional moans that escapes mosts' lips. Just as a hand reaches over to tear the blanket off my head, my fingers curl around fabric, and I pull the blanket away from my face. The person jerks and stumbles back a few steps--forgetting that there is another bed behind him--and falls ontop of a sleeping girl. She screams and pushes him off, and he falls onto the floor.

          Before I knew it, a laugh formed from within me, and hastily it comes out. It's followed by another; and another; and another. I laugh until my cheeks hurt and my eyes water; then a hand clasps the collar of my shirt and pulls me inward, and I'm starring into the dark brown eyes of the instructor.

           He abruptly shakes me by my shirt, and then pulls me down in one quick motion, and lets go. He gets up and makes his way towards exit, and then he's gone.

           I smooth out the wrinkles from my top to ease my shaking hands, and look around the room. Every girl trains their eyes on me, and I feel a rush of heat fill my cheeks. I turn my focus on my unmade bed, all the while avoiding eye-contact with anyone. The girl beside me does the same.

            Once I've finished, I turn to face the exit of the cabin that is straight across from my bed. Though the instructors always face my side of the room as they speak to the group, I feel that today they are doing this to watch me. They watch us pass them by to go about our daily scheduele, and though I'm not the last to go, I feel their eyes strained on my back, prying on my every move. A gust of wind pushes against my back, and I shiver.

            

            

           

 

 

Author's Note

Yayy!! Finally finished the first chapter of Three-Hundred!! Please tell me what you think--what you *honestly* think. :) Thank-you!

Reviews

[Ryann Woodhouse]

Dude..dude..dude..o3o
This..gave me..CHILLS DOWN MY SPINE :D !!
It's epically amazing o3o xD Haha But I love it ^-^

[Tsukin Archangel]

oooo a nice beginning to the story, well written and engrossing, you really pulled me in. And an interesting concept where there are only 300 children in a world of 10 thousand total. I would hate to live there but hey a good concept still

[Beth Lindsay]

This is really good! It sets up the story. It introduces major characters and you stopped it just at the perfect spot for chapter two. I can't wait until you finish the next chapter! Keep it up!

[Abbie]

well, this seems to be a very good first chapter to Three-Hundred. I like it, this chapter explains quite a lot without throwing it at you. The main character (you have not said her name) seems quite an interesting character. well created. :) this world of absolute perfection that you have come up with is really cool! nice thinking. :D Please upload the next chapter soon!!!!!!

~Abbie