An old story. Just throwing it on here. Mannnnnn it sucks.

One







A seven year old girl staggered down a lonely street. The buildings around her were crumbled, and dust flew up at her bare heels. She coughed lightly as dust entered her lungs. Her straggly blonde hair masked the beauty that she might have had. Her full, large eyes seemed dull, their warm grey-blue colour faded. All she wore was a brown sack, her feet bare and rough. She was of fair skin beneath the sack, but her shoulders were darkly tanned from the sun, her face burned pink along her nose and cheeks. She looked with worried eyes for any source of food, or something else that she ached for with emptiness equal to the hollowness of her stomach, companionship.
The lone girl sat suddenly down on the stone street. She pulled one knee to her chest, and sat for a while staring blankly at the sky. She couldn’t stop the tears from clouding her eyes, but she could stop them from spilling over, and staining her face. In fact, she’d not allowed those tears to boil over in years. Her face grew pink as she stood and walked on.
The heat coming from the dark red sky was excruciating. Starting, she looked back into the sky, really focusing on it for the first time. Its usual colours of black and smoky grey were gone, leaving nothing but crimson to compliment the clouds. She tugged absentmindedly at the black ribbon tied to her wrist as she scanned the sky, and photographed it with her eyes to recall later. As her eyes studied the sky, her gaze fell upon an inviting, if not empty and unused house. Weakly walking towards it, her eyes fell upon a small patch of grass. Pouncing hungrily on it, she pulled the plants up by the roots and shoved them into her mouth with her small, grubby fist. Her fingernails were long, cracked, and caked with dirt like the rest of her. Her feet were black at the bottoms, and even her ears were clogged with dust so that she could barely hear.
After her short meal, she stood, her attention on the house who provided her the shade she admired as she had been eating. Automatically, she went towards the door. She pushed it, and it fell easily, dust flying up. She coughed for a minute, but put her hand over her mouth to quiet it. She continued to cough as she stepped over the threshold and entered the dark shady structure.
She saw some odd objects lying this way and that. Touching one, she read through her mind that it was called a ‘couch‘. Touching the objects collectively, she discovered that they were called ‘furniture’. Touching one thing on its face at the back of the room, she read “Bookshelf”. Lifting the thing with her thin, yet strong arms, she discovered what looked like a small box. Her perceptive thoughts picked up that it was a ‘book’. Opening the funny box, she saw odd designs on the little pieces of paper that stuck out from the hinges. Her mind read the odd designs, and she assigned each word to a design. This was a story, and she was reading it! She sat for hours, and by the time she stood to leave, she had learned entirely to read, without using her mind.
Too excited to explore the rest of the house, she left again. Her mind raced restlessly as she walked with the book clutched close to her heart. The dusty old book of stories was already her favourite possession. It was the first time she’d actually cried in years, and her face was heavily streaked with dirt to prove it. She hadn’t cried since the night that--
She fell over backwards s she walked right into a wall of debris. She sighed, weary of the world. There was obviously no way around it, so she resigned herself to climbing it. Coughing, she found places for her hands, and pulled herself up. Her leg flailed as she tried to find a place for it. Finding each foot a place to land, she threw up her hands and pulled herself. Her face grew red and hot from the effort. She kept her precious new book clenched between her teeth. The sun beat on her, and the fact that she hadn’t drank anything in three days seemed to be catching up with her. She grew dizzy. The book fell from her grasp, and her last thought before she lost consciousness was “Look, Mom. The ground is coming up to meet me.”



I hide in fear. All around me, silent crying makes me shiver. I’m hidden, covered by mother’s body. Suddenly, a dangerous wave, nearly visible, but more easily sensed, sweeps over us. My mother, who had been clutching me tightly, suddenly lets go. I merely shrink further beneath her shadow. I can see myself shaking, but can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything, as I almost lift away from my body, but manage to shift eerily between more than one world that I can understand. Soon, all my senses come back to me, and everything feels normal again. I look up to my mother, weeping with happiness, my hair falling messily in front of my face as I smile stupidly.
“We lived, mama. We lived.” I look at her face, asking her why she won’t open her eyes, assuring her that it’s over, that we somehow managed to survive. I grab her cold hand, and furrow my eyebrows.
“Mother,” I demand, “stop being so lazy!” Still, she does not stir, and I grow worried. “Mother, why won’t you wake? Mother? Mother!” It hits me slowly, and I think that it isn’t possible that it’s true. I look over at my sister, who’s cold, white face is sticking out from under my mother’s arm where she’d stuck her head out to look around just before it all happened. Suddenly, a wail bursts out from me. I weep and weep, screaming “Mama! Lily! Mama! Lily!” again and again, bruised from their deaths, weak from the war. Suddenly, a furious man walks in the door.
“Papa!” I scream, as I stand to meet him. He throws me down, a panicked look on his face, and I cry out in pain and shock. He walks over to my mother and sister and stabs them repeatedly, then turns to me with his knife, crazed fear in his eyes, and runs at me fiercely. Jumping away and screaming, I hurtle myself out the door, and run until my eyes go black and I fall to the ground.




A shiver flew threw the girl’s body as she sat up. The cold of the night was not lost on her. Shivering, she pulled the dusty old blanket tighter around her, trying to keep all the old air from entering. Slowly gathering her senses, she suddenly felt her dry, cracked throat, and stood to get water, letting the blanket fall. Her legs now long, she was actually a very pretty young woman. Her eyes were an unforgiving blue, her face pink, but somehow not freckled. Her entire body was very tan, for she’d long given up seeking refuge under any garments. She knew she would never meet another human, and the damned Soldiers, as she still called them, wouldn’t hesitate in killing her any longer just because of her attire. No, she knew that she was in an unforgiving land, and she didn’t bother to try appealing to it. Her hair was very dry, and a halo of frizz was constantly visible.
The girl was not young any more. No longer was she weak. She had grown cold, and cynical. She was bored with everything, and didn’t even enjoy life any more. She lived for nothing but the hope of survival for her race, not herself. She knew she had no chance at happiness, not after all that had happened. If she ever managed to achieve her goals, she’d probably let herself go soon after. The world wouldn’t need her after that, and she certainly would need the world. Twelve years had passed, and she was now 19 years old. She didn’t know that, having not kept track of the days, but she estimated something about seventeen, which wasn’t too far off.
She impatiently blew the hair went halfway down her back away from her face as she walked outside of the old building she often chose to live in. She hadn’t found anything sharp enough to cut it with for ages, and it didn’t bother her too much, so she left it. She walked around the old city, looking for anything that might hint at a source of water. She didn’t need to lubricate her throat to talk; no, she hadn’t spoken in years, and really couldn’t think of a need to. There was no one left.
No one left. The thought was always hanging in her mind, often hidden by others, but always there. There were the Soldiers in Black, but what good were they? Until she had learned more about them, she couldn’t approach them, and she couldn’t approach them until she learned more about them. She’d chased herself in circles with this dilemma for years, trying to find out how she’d ever break free of it, but at the moment, she really didn’t care. Her thirst was more important than her sanity.
The night hid the usual orange haze that hung over everything. Plant life was still seldom seen, water was unable to accumulate under the ground. Chemicals kept everything still and dead, chemicals that had silenced the rest of the world, chemicals that should have killed her, too. Throwing the thought violently from her mind, she began to rub her head. There was a sharp pain just above her eye.
It had been longer than usual since her last food. She was weak, and soon began to grow dizzy as she walked through the streets. Perhaps it was her perceptive thoughts, perhaps it was imagination, but for as long as she could remember, she’d called the place The City of the Mires. She had no idea what a Mire was, but it just seemed to fit. The place was her castle; she went anywhere she wanted, owned anything she touched, ate anything she found. It wasn’t as though anyone else would ever need anything from here. Her favourite place to stay was the library, where she learned things she needed to know with ease. When she was around thirteen, she had scraped her leg terribly, and had found information on healing in the library. It was her sanctuary, the one place she still had left to feel happy in. She especially loved reading the stories about people in a better world doing exciting things. She’d even started writing her own stories, though they weren’t very good.
She staggered slightly as her feet, heavily dragging along the stones, caught on the ground. Finally stumbling to her knees, she looked up to the heavens and prayed. All those heavy thoughts that held her back, she released into the heavens. There was really nothing to keep her here; the land was bare, there was no hope of helping anyone here, and she certainly didn’t have enough food. Yet she’d stayed, stayed for all these years, picking the grass that occasionally grew, drinking the water that was likely tainted with disease that she was somehow immune to, reading the books in the old places. Nothing but a sickening, needy sentimentality kept her here, and she was ashamed. She’d walked to the city borders before, and tried to step out, but had felt nauseous as soon as she even started to lift her foot.
The very thought of her neediness for this place was what drilled into her mind as she finished her prayer. Neediness, she thought to herself angrily, is the reason for it. I don’t even know why! It isn’t like I’d ever been here before the apocalypse, it was after that I stumbled on the place. Suddenly feeling attached to it, almost dutiful to it, it’s sickening. I hate this needy body, this needy heart of mine. If only I could leave them behind and let my own thoughts soar… She sighed heavily and stood, rolling her neck. It was stiff, likely from her awkward sleeping position. She’d been having that terrible nightmare again; the one where she was forced to endure all that old pain again. She’d woken up very sore, as though she’d really been in a painful place during her sleep. She shook her head angrily and continued looking for grass.
Finally spotting a patch of about 20 blades, she walked steadily towards it. Her hunger had increased during her walk, and she considered the option of just letting herself die once again. She clenched her fists against her eyes, and sat down growling. Why had it been her? If she hadn’t been the one true human, she wouldn’t be having to save herself to save her race. She’d be able to experience the final escape.
What a spoiled thing I am, she thought to herself in a self-hating tone. All I ever think about is myself. What I need to eat, why I need to eat it… I’m sure others would have it worse, if they existed.
Reaching for the grass, she slowly savoured each blade, chewing them slowly and caressing them with her tongue. She gently sucked the sweet juice from the root, and chewed the green with passion. Opening her eyes after finishing her short delight, she spotted something she’d not seen in years; a dandelion, a precious, delicious treat. She clapped her hands like a child and memorized the spot. Right now, she didn’t need food, just water. Scraping through the dirt where the grass had been, she soon felt mud beneath her fingers. She pulled out clumps of mud at a time, and sucked the moisture out of each one. Digging deeper still, she felt an actual pool of water, just sitting, waiting for her. Throwing her face greedily into the hole, she began to lap up the water in a shameful manner, like a disgusting pet would have in an earlier time. Her curls falling all around her shoulders, a slight smile crept across her naturally pink lips. She’d not seen this much water in a very long time. She reached in to see how deep it went, and found to her ecstasy that she could not feel the bottom, even with her long arm entirely submerged. Jumping up, completely refreshed, she ran with deliverance towards the library where she usually slept. Curling back under an old window curtain, she forgot the cold that still surrounded her, and slept with pleasant dreams.

Light poured spitefully in, heating the stone that the young woman lay on. She groaned angrily as it flooded through her closed eyelids, so all she could see was red. The air around her had transformed in a short time from the frigid night to the hazy morning. The familiar orange glow of the land had once again stained the shelves that the books lay on. As the light stole away her peace, the woman kicked fitfully. A very small, rare grin spread across her unexercised cheeks. She began to pick herself up, slowly pushing herself from the ground. Though she’d eaten just the previous night, she found herself craving the dandelion she’d saved. Denying herself the food, she decided to just have a sip from her new watering hole, and then explore the new area she’d discovered the entrance to the other day.
The woman ambled casually down the stony path. Her arms swung naturally at her ides, her bare wrists brushing against her exposed upper thighs. She glanced warily at the buildings around her, as the path grew more shadowy, and the buildings less familiar. An air of doom surrounded her, and she shivered despite the heat. Eventually the shadows and the darkness became so intimidating that she wondered how she’d managed to walk the path before. Her breath started to come quicker, and far more shallow. Finally, she burst into a frantic run, scrambling along the uneven stones.
Suddenly, the side of her foot caught among the treacherous stones, and she was violently thrown to her knees and palms, her ankle twisting among the rocks.
She’d opened her mouth to shout as an instinct, but nothing came out. Despite her pain as she gently pulled her foot out of its trap, she began to test her vocal abilities, surprised at her inability to speak. She sat , trying to yell, for several minutes, but nothing came out. With a slight sniff, she stood slowly, balancing herself on her one foot. Testing her pain, she rested her foot on the ground, and pushed herself with it onto her other foot. Finding it bearable, she limped down the street in the dark. She knew she’d seen a split of light. There! If she turned her head just so, she could see it in the distance, just a sliver of it. Limping as quickly as she could, she threw herself to the wall of the building, and used it to push herself along.
Suddenly, the blackness broke, and she was faced with a bright, blaring place. She gasped in the light, trying to keep the breath she’d somehow lost. The sky was different, light blue, with sun streaming helpfully in. The girl blinked heavily.
There was an air of difference about the place. It was not normal, not the same as what lay behind her, or perhaps what lay behind her was not the same as this. Though strange to her, it seemed eerily normal.
She stepped cautiously forward, limping sideways in a pathetic manner. She was sure this couldn’t be the place she’d witnessed only days earlier; from the darkness and unfamiliarity behind her, the green hills in front of her, it didn‘t seem right. Nothing was the same. Looking closely at the odd, green ground, it appeared to be grass. Grass, everywhere, not even eaten up, left all to her! Reaching down for it, the moment her hand touched where the ground should have been, where she should have felt the tickle of grass, everything around her disappeared. Behind her, a more familiar street of her own city lay, not in the complete darkness of before. In front of her, she saw what looked to be a giant city, with metal where she’d only seen stone before.
The building reached a frightening level; she was sure that they were pushed through the clouds which seemed white in the still blue sky. Limping towards the closest building, she felt a different, smoother sensation beneath her feet. Where the stones should be, there were large, hard, rocky slabs, all uniformly pressed into the earth. When she finally reached a building, her soft hand reached out for it, and let its cool metal burn into her as she caressed it, letting the smoothness absorb her. She soon threw her face and body against the wall, glad for the cooling sensation that it gave her. She closed her eyes, enjoying her peace, until a sudden noise made her jump. She was not used to noise coming from anywhere but her, and it scared her into falling to her knees, crouching forlornly against the metal, welcoming the shadows. When nothing moved, she eventually came out from her hiding spot, venturing cautiously into the city. It was a complex place; where dusty orange houses would stand, shining metal towers stood before her. The girl found herself wondering where anyone might have slept around here; there were no usual doors, but ones made of glass or material too heavy to be easily pushed or pulled. Most places that she was used to didn’t even have doors, and one could simply walk in. It gave her shivers to think that there might be more odd places like this in the world.
As she walked, she barley looked down, staring up at the intense sky. When an oddly flesh coloured thing was caught in her peripheral view, she looked down with curiosity embedded in her features. A foot, much like her own, stuck out from behind a building. She saw a white piece of cloth come flying suddenly from the alley ahead of her that the foot was sticking rudely out from, and ran to catch it as it fluttered patiently in the breeze. Catching the thing by its corner, she pulled it close to her and hugged it against her naked bosom, feeling its soft texture compliment that of her own skin.
Hearing another rustle behind her, she realized with sudden enthusiasm that she’d quite finished her adventure for the day, and, cloth in hand, scrambled back to her familiar lands.

Back in the sun, she stood on the road beside the dandelion, looking down to admire herself. She’d somehow recognized the white cloth as a garment, and slipped it easily over her dark shoulders. It hung loosely on her, elegantly draped across her deathly thin figure. Beneath the dress, her shrunken breasts drooped pathetically. The skin on her stomach hung as loosely as the dress on her petite bones. Her fingernails were white with malnutrition, her breath smelled from lack of hygiene. Still, as she stood there on that hazy afternoon, dust flying about her, she looked at herself and her world in a different light. She felt oddly grateful for the imaginary water that appeared to lay in the distance, caused by the sun’s rays. She was grateful, too, for the shade that the buildings around her gave.
Clutching the new dress eagerly at her sides, she began to dance. At first, it was stiff, but began to slowly flow, and she spread across the street in her mad dance, like a little girl who is certain that every eye is on her.













































Two





Several days had passed, and the dress was already yellowing from the dust that hung over everything. The girl was sitting luxuriously beside the pond, chewing on the dandelion, and reading a book. There wasn’t a moment that she didn’t savour the delicious, milky taste of the dandelion, and not a moment that she didn’t recognize that there were things in there vital to her health. She proudly imagined various scenarios where she could be; chewing on a delicious piece of a meal as she read in sunlight that didn’t burn, or perhaps watching someone dancing on elevated ground.
The hours ticked by as she sat in silent perfection, allowing the shadows of the day to pass over her with confidence. Her eyes squinted furiously in an instinct to keep her eyes from the pain of the light. Eventually, she grew far too warm, and walked into a nearby building, lazily dragging her feet.
She fell into an old, dusty sofa, sneezing, and then lying still, waiting for the dust to settle. She continued to read there, for she was entirely caught up in the story that her eyes had been passing over for the last few hours. She was oddly bored, though, and was almost desperate for anything to do. Nothing ever happened to her, the days just slowly dragged past as she struggled to keep herself from sinking into an inescapable hatred for everything. Nothing was there to keep her amused, and she sometimes, like now, wanted to break down and cry for lack of anything to do. She wanted to just cry, to just let everything out, but she couldn’t find it in herself to let anything go like that. She was too worked up about everything to forget, but it had lingered too long to be hot enough to ignite a dark flame. Every single moment was becoming another, and she knew that she’d wasted her life thus far, that there was nothing keeping the time from passing as she sat there on that cool sofa, wasting the world’s life.
As she sat, allowing the nothingness around her to once again sweep her off her feet, the girl began to wiggle her toes. There was a certain beat to it, and it went to a tune that she never knew she’d heard, which was running graciously through her head. This odd mental sound, this music, it was strange to her. She’d not heard music since her father used to come in to her bedroom and tuck her in bed, wrapping her up in her blanket like a cocoon. He would sit on the side of her bed and bounce up and down, causing her to bounce as well. Then he’d gently sing a song, and steel away. She remembered it with great fondness, and a sudden unexpected tear came to her eye. Impatiently sniffing and blinking it back, she stood to leave. The small room and the old couch was making her nostalgic, something she hated to be. In a desperate attempt to distract herself, she rashly decided to walk back to the city.
She was too upset, for a reason that she couldn’t understand, to really even notice where she was going. She managed to make it to the intimidating land, and with adrenaline as well as fear, forgot her previous worries, just as she had intended.
She found another of the cold, metal walls, and flung herself against it. Remembering her dress, she turned to face a large glass slab embedded in the wall. Vaguely able to see herself, she merely assumed that she was beautiful, because there was nobody around to judge her appearance anyways. While she was often depressed by her own loneliness, she sometimes would have a shot of optimism, and would, for a short while, enjoy life just a little bit.