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My Name is Christopher by Anna Kaiya Freeman
My name is Christopher Johnson.
On your planet, that is. On Earth, that was the name given to me because of the language barriers between our races. We cannot pronounce your words, nor can you do the same with ours. Though, over the twenty plus years that our species has been taking “refuge” here, both humans and our people have come to some mutual understanding of each other's way of communication.
But even still we were given human names to make things easier for the government. Yes, the government, not the normal human people. The only humans interested in approaching us were either there to take and buy our weapons, sell us food at prices much too high, or to...
Nevermind. What I saw at MNU does not need to be brought into this. I hope to never speak of it again. My son does not need to know of such things.
I always hated the names that were given to us. I agreed with the fact that there was no way to use our real names in communication, but even still, it was something else you humans forced us into. Use your names to make it easier for your government to “talk” to us. If waving their guns around and screaming insults was considered talking.
Along came Wikus.
He was just like all the other humans. Disgusted with us, wanted us to leave, and was only polite to us because he was fearful of something so different than everything he knew. As if we weren't scared? Honestly.
But then, the transformation. He came into contact with what could be called our fuel and, now, is probably one of our own kind, living in the new District 10. When I left him, his body was changing at an alarmingly fast rate.
Wikus always called me Christopher. Understandable. Technically, he was one of the government. But as we went through everything together, the way he said my “name” was different. In the beginning, a disgusted politeness. At MNU, a panicked sympathy. And while rushing me to the crashed ship—to my son—a commanding, almost, dare I say it, friendly-type of reassurance that he would hold off the soldiers and Nigerians.
Three years. That was my promise. And I am keeping it. I am now back at your planet, with what I need to save my species and the medical help that Wikus needs.
My name is forevermore Christopher Johnson, and I am bringing my people home.
FIN
My name is Christopher Johnson.
On your planet, that is. On Earth, that was the name given to me because of the language barriers between our races. We cannot pronounce your words, nor can you do the same with ours. Though, over the twenty plus years that our species has been taking “refuge” here, both humans and our people have come to some mutual understanding of each other's way of communication.
But even still we were given human names to make things easier for the government. Yes, the government, not the normal human people. The only humans interested in approaching us were either there to take and buy our weapons, sell us food at prices much too high, or to...
Nevermind. What I saw at MNU does not need to be brought into this. I hope to never speak of it again. My son does not need to know of such things.
I always hated the names that were given to us. I agreed with the fact that there was no way to use our real names in communication, but even still, it was something else you humans forced us into. Use your names to make it easier for your government to “talk” to us. If waving their guns around and screaming insults was considered talking.
Along came Wikus.
He was just like all the other humans. Disgusted with us, wanted us to leave, and was only polite to us because he was fearful of something so different than everything he knew. As if we weren't scared? Honestly.
But then, the transformation. He came into contact with what could be called our fuel and, now, is probably one of our own kind, living in the new District 10. When I left him, his body was changing at an alarmingly fast rate.
Wikus always called me Christopher. Understandable. Technically, he was one of the government. But as we went through everything together, the way he said my “name” was different. In the beginning, a disgusted politeness. At MNU, a panicked sympathy. And while rushing me to the crashed ship—to my son—a commanding, almost, dare I say it, friendly-type of reassurance that he would hold off the soldiers and Nigerians.
Three years. That was my promise. And I am keeping it. I am now back at your planet, with what I need to save my species and the medical help that Wikus needs.
My name is forevermore Christopher Johnson, and I am bringing my people home.
FIN
Literature
District 9 - PoHa - 05
Chapter 5 Prawn phone home
"Elliot, you're crazy" muttered the boy in pajamas as he ventured into the thick, dark foliage armed with one flashlight and one pair of socks on his otherwise bare feet. The crickets chirped and the dry grass crackled, but aside from that it was all too quiet in the chilly nighttime.
The boy reached a brick wall and suddenly a strange quiet gurgling joined the sounds of the night, guiding Elliot in the dark until he found a trail of footprints, three-fingered, unlike anything he'd ever seen. He followed them despite the fear towards another forest of tall dry plants and the gurgling grew clearer. Stem aft
Literature
District 9 - PoHa - 04
Chapter 4 Welcome to the Space Jam
* = Prawn talk
Ana could not deny that her experience with the prawn had affected her. In the days that followed she had no choice but to concentrate on her studies and work, which kept her very busy. And yet her mind kept trailing off and going absent as she wondered whether she should call and ask about Kyler's condition, since the wait for news was becoming unbearably and unexpectedly long. How ironic.
Of course, it was not like she cared that much, but was it really so hard to at least show they still knew she existed? She had found a wounded alien in the street and taken
Literature
District 9 - PoHa - 06
Breaking the habit
The clockwork collar still looked strange on Ana, as Ana's friends made a point to indicate. She hadn't taken it off much lately, except for sleeping, for example, and that implied having her mates at the university see it hanging from her neck.
"What the heck is that, Ana?" Gery laughed, signaling towards the dangling pieces of clockwork and needles. "Is it like steampunk, or something?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"It really doesn't match your colors."
"Where did you get that?"
"A friend gave it to me."
"Ooh, a friend!" Sean sung. "New friend?"
"Yeah, it's
it was something silly that he made and
I think he just w
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Warning: Spoilers for the Movie "District 9." If you haven't seen the movie and plan to, read at your own risk.
HOT DAMN! I have had so many problems with this Drabble! I really should just shoot it in the face... whatever. lol. This should be the last time I re-upload it. Thank god.
Just a drabble I whipped up right after I got home from seeing District 9.
I like Christopher. And his son. His son makes me giggle.
District 9 (c) Not Me
Drabble (c) Me
HOT DAMN! I have had so many problems with this Drabble! I really should just shoot it in the face... whatever. lol. This should be the last time I re-upload it. Thank god.
Just a drabble I whipped up right after I got home from seeing District 9.
I like Christopher. And his son. His son makes me giggle.
District 9 (c) Not Me
Drabble (c) Me
© 2009 - 2024 AKFchan
Comments12
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Fave. Christopher is awesome