Maya

**__ A World Forgotten __** Hello. I’m writing this in the flickering of a candle, burnt down to its base. The dark room echoes with snores, I glance around fearfully, hoping the faint light does not wake anyone. The ratty, worn journal I hold-paper is precious. If anyone found it… I’m sorry. I apparently forgot to introduce myself. I’m Mikara. Just Mikara. No one has had a last name in years, children are abandoned so soon that even first names are a rarity. I’m one of the lucky ones. Strong enough, smart enough to survive on my own, //they// took notice. I sometimes wish they hadn’t. It is more a prison than anything else, a place we are taught, taught horrible things. Most of us have been here so long we don’t remember anything else, just the classes and the shambles of a world war torn, of a world ruined. But I remember. Sometimes, when the sun dares to peek from the pollution that obscures it, I remember more. I remember a world where the sun peeked through the clouds often, and something I have only heard about in hushed whispers, //plants//, colors that have long since faded out from worn toys and never been bothered to replace. I cannot name the colors, I can’t describe them. They are too fantastic for that. I don’t know why I see these things. They certainly never existed in my lifetime. Such things are long forgotten. Plants are only in the special ships, long since launched, that the scientists created to preserve life. After reviving the animals long since dead, scientists took a look at the world and decided that the world was heading for destruction-something they were right about-and they built a special space ship, to tour the stars while the rest of us stayed here. They called it Noah’s Ark, after a long forgotten story. But why am I telling you this? You surely know already, if you can even read. But somehow, I feel I can explain myself only if I explain the past, the havoc wreaked on the world, unknowingly by the scientists themselves, though they painted themselves as prophets. Ha. They destroyed the prophets, leaving us with no one to turn to after they disappeared. You see, after the scientists left, what was left of the world got into a great big fight. And when the world fights, well…it’s never good for anyone. With weapons built sloppily from the plans the scientists had accidentally left behind, they destroyed their enemies. But they destroyed themselves also. They weren’t scientists, they’d be gone if they were. The plans went wrong. And the world burned. I stared out the window of the huge spaceship, endlessly bored. Electronics only held so much interest, and we weren’t visiting another planet for weeks. What I thought about when I was bored? Earth. Our dire predictions said that the world would collapse in nuclear warfare, and that what little civilization was left would scramble to stay alive. But an optimistic part of me refused to believe that. I want them to advance as we have, rediscover plants, animals, //science//. I want them to remember lost ways. Most of all, I want to meet them. So different from me, with my pampered lifestyle… we are currently trying to decide if we will go back, just to check up on them. I hope we do. What do we have to lose? See how populations do without science. Almost all intelligent life on the planets we have visited have it, many to a much finer point then we do. We learn from all, making humans some of the most advanced life forms in the solar system-at least, this group of humans. Several times we ran across hostile aliens, though as we truly abandoned our planet years ago, I suppose we have no right to call anyone that. All of these times, we barely got away with our ship intact-in other words, we barely survived. One of the main issues with going back is the fact that we will once again have to deal with the Hokri, a VERY hostile group of aliens who almost became our downfall shortly after our venture into space. But I still hope. You must always hope. ** A/N: I don’t actually believe this will happen, however, it is better than the “The world will clean up and there will be flying cars and robots!” theory again, even if it is just as common… So, hope you liked it! -Maya [] [] (mainly second link) RT: Where were the Romani people originally found? RT: Are all nomadic people Romani? T&S: What are three names that describe the Romani people? T&S: What often caused the emigrations? A&M: Why does the author describe them as victims of presecution? A&M: Do you think the author supports the theory that a mixed population left Northern India in the 11th century? OYO: Would you rather be a present day Romani person or a Romani hundreds of years ago? OYO: What is a preconception you had of the Roma people?
 * __ROMANI PEOPLE__**

Dear Diary: I am so frustrated by this trip. I should never have signed on. There were plenty of ship's carpenters, but NO-O-O, I had to be picked. The ship is gone, yet still we are on this godforsaken continent, trying to get off! That idiot Shackleton, I cannot believe I am in the same tent! At first, living in the ship boarded on ice, I felt I was going crazy. But this is worse, though how it is possible I don't know. And we killed my dog, my favorite, Icy. I tell you, Shackleton has it in for me. He wasn't mad when that stowaway was discovered, though I'm sure he is a fine fellow, yet at every chance he picks on ME.

I chose to answer question three. I believe that society can be fair when people have different talents. This is because, as different people have different talents, so they have different faults, and not one person is more perfect than anyone else because their faults balance out their strengths, and their strengths their faults.

Actually, I’m bored so I’m going to answer number one too. If people do not have freedom, of speech, of thought, then society becomes a violent whirlpool where everyone is persecuted and no one ever does anything new. Creativity is the child of freedom, and without freedom, there is no creativity and no new innovations. Without anyone being able to speak out, people become angry and a revolution inevitably ensues.

I read the story, "The Little Hunchback". It was about a hunchback from the king's court, who had drunk a little too much. A kindly couple took him in, but he unfortunately choked on a fishbone. The couple was quite scared, thinking they would be hung as murderers, but they quickly came up with a plan. They went to a doctor's, and propped him up at the top of a stair. The good doctor rushed down them and knocked the little hunchback down. When he found the hunchback was quite dead, he believed he had killed him and passed him to the neighbour, a Mussalman. The neighbour, thinking the hunchback a thief, beat him soundly, but when he fell down dead, he believed himself a murderer and moved the poor hunchback to a rich Christian's shop. The Christian was hastening outside when the huchback fell upon him. The Chritian beat him soundly, calling for help while doing so. A policeman came by and saw that the man was dead. He blamed the Christian and threw him into jail. The Christian was to be hung, but as they were tightening the noose, the Mussalman came down, claming it had been he who had murdered the hunchback. Thus he was to be hung in the Christian's place. But as they tightened the noose, the doctor rushed up and said he was the murderer. Thus he was to be hung. But then the original couple rushed up, claiming it had been them. Just as they were about to die, the king, who the hunchback had been a jester for, saved them so he could hear the whole story.

That is the story of the little hunchback.

Obituary In my long life, I accomplished many things. I attribute all to being an open minded, adventurous, understanding risk taker, qualities that were developed by many important people in my life. I have always been open minded, ready to accept new ideas, and to think of them. This is how I wrote my first story, my first published book-open minded to new ideas, flexible. My sense of adventure led me to write about characters with that same sense-and fantastic adventures to accompany that sense. I took a part of my own self and put it into my writing. I was a risk taker. I never signed up directly for an agent, never took that extra step. I went straight to the publisher. Understanding, of course, that I’d probably never get published,, but it was a risk I took-and won. Finally, my fourth important attribute is understanding. I’ve always understood-seeing the other’s point of view, seeing into the lives of others. This is truly my most important quality-the one that led to success as an author, success in life. I’ve lived a long and happy life, and I’m happy to have one last adventure-what comes after?