Note For Anyone Writing About Me

Guide to Writing About Me

I am an Autistic person,not a person with autism. I am also not Aspergers. The diagnosis isn't even in the DSM anymore, and yes, I agree with the consolidation of all autistic spectrum stuff under one umbrella. I have other issues with the DSM.

I don't like Autism Speaks. I'm Disabled, not differently abled, and I am an Autistic activist. Self-advocate is true, but incomplete.

Citing My Posts

MLA: Hillary, Alyssa. "Post Title." Yes, That Too. Day Month Year of post. Web. Day Month Year of retrieval.

APA: Hillary, A. (Year Month Day of post.) Post Title. [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://yesthattoo.blogspot.com/post-specific-URL.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Reflection On A Day and Autistic!Annie

Yesterday was my diagnosis day. I didn't get a cake, sadly (the only bus I could take to get to the bakery before it closed would have involved getting back to campus late for Ultimate,) but I got ice cream. And I got to hang out with an Autistic friend of mine. I also got to write the beginning scene (or most of a scene) from an Autistic!Annie fanfiction for the Hunger Games universe. Specifically, it's covering Annie's Games. And a little bit before. I am horrible to my characters, by the way.

So here's what I have so far.

“Annie Cresta.”
No. Sometimes she heard stuff wrong. This had to be one of those times. It had to. She closed her eyes, held her breath. Around her, her classmates pushed at her.
“Annie, open your eyes.” “Annie, move.” “Annie, that’s you.”
She couldn’t process it all, but that wasn’t a new feeling. Autopilot. One foot in front of the other, to the platform.
Or dais. I could call it that too. Dais is a fun word. Dais dais dais. Maybe if I just keep repeating dais I can stay calm. No outbursts in front of the whole nation, I’m going to need sponsors if this isn’t just a nightmare. A really realistic one. I’m probably awake. No outbursts, no outbursts.
“Kellun Cresta.”
Her younger brother. Please be a nightmare, please.
He walked towards the platform (dais dais dais) as if in shock.  He probably was in shock. She was probably in shock too, come to think of it.  And reacting would be a really bad idea
Angela, the woman from the Capital who read the names, was talking again. People were clapping. It was loud. She and her brother were to shake hands as fellow tributes. They did, but couldn't look at each other. How could they?
An hour. That's how long their parents had to say goodbye to the both of them. They split it, half the hour for each child.
And then the train.
"The names. That's not a coincidence, is it?"
"No," Kellun said. "Annie is my older sister."
"Try to get him out alive, please."
"I'm supposed to protect you, I'm your brother!"
"I'm the older sibling. I'm supposed to protect you."
He didn't say anything more. Neither did she. Either was willing to sacrifice themself to save the other, but neither wanted the other to do so. They would work it out in the arena, one way or another. She hoped that they wouldn't be the last two left.

No comments:

Post a Comment

I reserve the right to delete comments for personal attacks, derailing, dangerous comparisons, bigotry, and generally not wanting my blog to be a platform for certain things.