Short apocalyptic story

[Exo-Slayer]

I have never posted in this forum but I enjoy writing. Written a few books but I have been too afraid to send them anywhere. Thought I would start doing some short fiction and post it here and become more active in the forum.

This is a bit of post apocalyptic fiction. It's pretty dark and depressing but how can the end of the world not be? I have got a few other short things written but need to edit them a bit. Any critique or suggestion would be appreciated.



“This is the way the world ends. It started with a bang, and ends with a whimper.” I speak to my invisible congregation for I am alone, alone as one could imagine. Another strained breathe and the story continues, aloud or only in my head it matters not.

The city had survived but it was no longer recognizable. The streets were covered in ash as the eternally dark sky dropped it like dark snow. The trees that lined the street and the shutters along with the paneling on the buildings were gone, anything that could burn. This was the day that I realized the world had moved on, that the world had come to its end.

The temperature had plummeted and the people were bound in many layers. No one had matching clothing for those who cared of fashion were all long dead. The pilgrims fleeing the city looked like a quilt of many colors sewn of small patches of mismatched cloth. They fled from the horror of the city to the burning countryside and the roving bands of harriers. The huddled mass grouped together for protection pushing shopping carts full of useless mementos.

I saw a woman cross the street, she had once been overweight but now she was anemic and her overlarge skin hung off her body in sallow patches. A quick and fearful gait was what made me take notice as she scanned the streets suspiciously. There was reason to be suspicious someone was following her, only a dozen paces behind.

He was a scoundrel, a vagabond and he followed her with envious eyes. Like everyone he was emaciated, when had this wretched creature last found food, and what terrible thing had he forced himself to eat. Nearly all the food of the city, perhaps of the world had been devoured or destroyed in the initial devastation. The vagabond was wrapped in a sweater gray with ash, the hood tied close to his face.

The smell of the city that day has never faded from my memory as much I wish it would. The smell was of death and blood so thick you could taste it like sucking on batteries. The death was mixed with smoke and ash and of flesh roasting upon a spit. The cows had all been slaughtered and the dogs, probably even the rats, so what was this tempting aroma?

During this chase I could hear a vehicle in the distance and then gunfire and cheering. In the street still remained many cars, accumulating inches of cinders, but they had all been siphoned and would remain forever like ashen gargoyles protecting their empty castles.

The woman taking notice of the gunfire quickened her pace and pulled the package close to her bosom. She stepped over a corpse without taking a second glance. By then murder was rampant and the death cults had already started to form. Few bothered to bury the dead they remain in the street nothing but a nuisance to avoid like a pothole or a beggar.

The woman clutched under her arm a small nylon bag the vague outline of tin cans visible to her pursuer. This no doubt was the reason for her worry and her quick pace. The street was dangerous enough walking alone but carrying something as precious as food was downright suicide. In the ash covered street deep footprints were left as she quickened to a run and then climbed the wide concrete stairway to her first floor apartment. The sanctuary was a large steel door with bars covering windows the glass long ago shattered. A single key was tied on a long string around her neck she fumbled for the lock as the feral man rushed toward her. Suddenly her hold on the bag was ripped away and he was sprinting down the street. Falling to her knees a piercing wail choked from her throat, it was a cry of defeat, a cry of death.

The scoundrel was free, he crossed a street and looked back and knew he just had to get off the road. From an alcove a large outstretched arm knocked him to the ground. This man had been watching, he had been waiting, and this man was our hero. The bundle had tumbled to the ground and the hero picked it up and started back toward the woman walking with a calm confidence.

The hero was an Adonis he was muscular and had a face that men would follow. This hero could bring order to the chaos, a man who could rebuild the world with his own hands. The rebuilding would start with the return of a small bundle of food to a distraught woman. She looked at him with disbelief still kneeling on the stoop of her apartment the ash covering her body.

The Adonis stepped out into the street and turned in time to make a stupid face before he was under a school bus. The men inside cheered and fired out randomly from the shattered windows and then continued on. The nylon bag rolled to the side of the street and the scoundrel once again grabbed it, tipped his hood toward the woman still crying on her stoop and was gone.

The hero was dead and the scoundrel lived on. So it goes.

Perhaps if that hero had lived the world could have survived. Perhaps if there were more like him, had they found each other and banded together. Instead I lived, and stole from others, and did much worse in time. I took something from the world, something that could not be made right again.

Now I think I am the last and when I am gone so blinks out this short and miserable existence that was life. You may ask do I regret how I survived, what I made myself do for self preservation. I hate myself for what I did, but I love myself to much to have done it any different.

One more breathe I pull in and whisper out in a death-rattle. “This is the way the world ends. It started with a bang, and it shall end with a whimper.”

 

[Exo-Slayer]

Perhaps this wasn't quite the right story for this forum. I'll give it another try though. This is something more recent a bit more light and fanciful. My stab at a fantasy story.

My eyes open to the most beautiful sunrise anyone will ever experience. The star is so massive that the fiery tendrils, climbing over the horizon like stretching hands, are visible with my unaided vision. The light corona so brilliant I must shield my eyes with the brim of my fedora. The immeasurable star fills up half the sky when it finally stretches over the horizon and as it climbs I can see its companion, the dim little white dwarf circling the larger body like a lover. Watching until it disappears in the thick jungle canopy I sit up content but confused.

How long had I been in this place? How had I come to be here? The longer I think about it the less I can clearly remember. Like the hazy childhood memory that suddenly fills your mind at an unexpected moment but after cannot be recalled. I search around and find a small pack of gear. It is strange but everything inside is familiar though I cannot remember ever seeing the contents before. From a flask of water a single gulp is enough to remove the dry parch from my tongue.

As I stand a faint and woozy feeling permeates my body but in time it passes. The jungle is dark as scant light falls through the thick roof of tall vegetation. With the pack on my back I mosey toward a clearing in the jungle that had allowed me to watch the sun rise. I don’t know for sure but to make this simple I decide the direction the sun rises shall be called east. The clearing to the east ends on a cliff overlooking a jungle without end. The same view meets me in all directions until I look south where the jungle goes on for a distance and then an intimidating mountain range rises to the heavens disappearing in the clouds.

“Hello!” My voice echoes across the land, “Is anyone out there?”

The nearest of the mountains looks like a single stone hurled into the earth by some angry God. Something draws my attention toward the top of the mountain, watching for several minutes I can make out a light that periodically flashes a bright amber hue. It is barely distinguishable in the bright binary light but once it is seen it cannot be missed. With my destination chosen I walk south, always south.

The jungle is full of life and noise so I find a stick that will make a suitable bludgeon and hold it before me as if to ward off the unknown. The noise is a mix of squawks and growls and the occasional drumming sound like some huge creature with massive foot falls. My mind shows me images of extinct creatures and even those legendary fire dragons of the east but I close off that part of my fear, it is of course silly to worry about the impossible.

I stay at the edge of the jungle walking as close to the precipice as my fear will allow. Mostly the jungle at my side keeps my attention but as I turn back toward the world below I can see something extraordinary. Tiny mounds of dirt rise like miniature pyramids toward the top of the tree line so far below. From my bag I remove binoculars and get a better view and the mounds are obviously not a natural phenomenon. The structure reminds me of pictures of Chinese rice paddies growing in terraces along the side of a rising hill. Growing from each tier are small stalks of yellow and red ending in a cone of blue. It takes some time but I can spot a creature tending the garden and my mind does not at first comprehend what I am seeing.

The creature is large like a great ape but without fur. The closest description I could give would be of some deep underwater octopus that learned to walk. Long yet nimble tentacles protrude from the top and bottom half, four on the ground keeping it mobile and four in the air tending to the delicate plants. A beak stretches out from its center mass with a pair of eyes stretching out on stalks. With slow and gentle hands it picks off the blue cones and places them in a nearby basket, leaving the stalk behind intact.

The fascinating creature keeps my attention as I slowly sidle toward the fall but the edge starts to collapse sending debris down the mountain side. The creature looks up and then with astonishing speed it leaps into the air a long tentacle reaching a branch and disappears. I back away from the edge and continue my journey picking up my pace for fear of retaliation. Below I can hear a faint clicking sound like the chirping of birds.

The club is held close and tight ready for whatever the jungle might show me next. Occasionally from the dark jungle a pair of eyes will follow me with interest and I quicken my pace. Ahead the jungle seems to stop and I cannot understand until I am nearly atop the chasm. A deep rift in the earth crosses my path but not far down I can make out some kind of bridge.

I walk toward the bridge and have to stop when I see the marvel this place has created. The bridge was created by a pair of trees growing out of the ground on each side of the chasm. The root systems of the trees had formed together creating a perfect bridge across the distance. Looking closer the bridge had not grown naturally but was cultivated this way. I could see a mesh wiring twisted around the root system as if to guide it in the right direction. On the bridge were stepping stones marked with some ancient runic symbol.

Looking long into the dark chasm I can see no end to the drop. Testing my weight on the bridge it creaks and groans but it does not buckle or move. Working up my nerve I slowly put a foot on one of the stones over the chasm to test the stability. I nearly leap into the air as the clicking sound from below returns but this time much closer. I turn around and watch for a moment and can see the creatures swinging in the dark recesses of the jungle. They flip from branch to branch using hand and foot as if they were the same appendage.

One of them creep toward the bridge and stops at the tree line. The eye stalks watch me inquisitively and then the beak opens and the clicking sound comes out. From the jungle behind the sound is parroted in a hundred variations then silence. It seemed to be waiting for some sign and I decide to try and communicate.

“I am lost. I mean you no harm.” I speak slowly and calmly with my hands raised palms outward. “I am but a traveler, trying to find home.”

The only response comes from the creature at the edge of the forest. From his mouth spits a single click that does not sound very friendly.

“I’m just passing through toward the light,” I say pointing at the amber light on the huge stone, “Let me go, trust me I don’t taste very good.”

One of the eye stalks look toward the mountain and the amber light while the other keeps it bead on my head. The creature blinks the slit of its eyes closing vertically and unnaturally as it looks into the light. The creature shakes its head and I can almost understand and then a spear flies through the forest and pierces into the ground at my side. I toss the club into the air as I turn and flee across the bridge any fear of the fall now surpassed by the tentacle creatures chasing me.

The bridge groans under my weight but it holds. For the briefest of moments I wonder how old the bridge must be, and if my new enemy were its creators. Reaching the other side I turn and witness the creatures vault across the chasm forgoing the bridge altogether, I take that as an answer to my question.

No time to turn and keep down the path toward the cliff I flee into the jungle. The creatures swing through the trees in such a way that Tarzan would be jealous. The spears fly through the air the sound audible and I avoid them as best as I can zigging and zagging through the thick foliage. They slam into trees and into the dirt one even darts passed my head.

They are getting closer. They swing in front of me and behind circling as I run as if to taunt me. Running so fast I nearly step on a giant house cat the size of a park bench but at the last moment I vault over top. I can see the orange and white feline rise from its slumber it watches as I flee as if it remembers my kind. As one of the tentacle creatures swoops overhead the cat leaps into the air and comes down with a prize.

Before long I notice the booming foot fall sound from before is growing closer as I approach the mountain. I turn and several of the tentacle creatures are grappling with the feline but others are still following. Overcoming my fear I charge toward the mountain hoping for sanctuary. The sound grows louder and the creatures fall behind as if they are frightened.

My pace slackens as I approach the sound. Just beyond the tree line are the giant teeth and claws that will end me but still I walk. The mind is a terrible enemy at times as mine had turned against me showing me visions of dragons and thunder lizards. In my life I had always tried to overcome fear. You could not do that by avoiding the subject of that fear but by the gradual inclusion of the frightening object.

This was something different. This was fear of the unknown. I had said it was silly to fear the impossible but in a place that has Octopus Creatures farming on a world that circles twin Suns anything was possible. My pace slowed until it felt like minutes between each foot fall but as I approached the sound become more discernable. This was not the sound of some giant monster storming through the jungle but of something more familiar.

Stepping through the last line of jungle and into the clearing I spot a large metal piston rising out of the ground. Like a giant metal arm it climbs out the ground and into the air and then slams down into the ground creating the loud booming sound. Next to the piston is a moss covered metallic structure that appears much like a subway car. Moving closer I can see a thick metal line atop the car and running up toward the top of the rock.

I look through the port holes in the side of the car and inside I can see several random objects. The door is open and I step inside the light pouring through the windows enough to get a good look. I see a briefcase against one wall but the lock is stuck, with a little force and a pocket knife from the pack I pry it open.

Inside I find a bag lunch long rotten and toss it out a window. There are sheets of paper but the text is faded from the years and I can read nothing. There is a short metallic tool like a sharpened spatula and I horde it inside my pack. Lastly I find some kind of keycard attached to a lanyard and for some reason I put it around my neck.

In another corner I find a rusted tricycle and the head from a baby doll. I see candy boxes but again the age has worn away the text all I can see is the smiling face of a child chewing some colorful jelly beans. I look for clues to where I am and how I came to be here but this is all useless junk.

Close to giving up I find a small pamphlet on the ground. The age has worn away the writing but there are laminated photos that have survived. On the cover stands this very car but there is a larger structure nearby a gift shop, it seems that time has eaten it to nothing. Inside I see families camping and kayaking and enjoying the facility. On the back I see a picture of the rock but the surrounding jungle is nowhere to be seen instead it is replaced by a small cityscape.

I place the pamphlet in my bag and walk toward the exit but before I can step out the key around my neck vibrates lightly. The door slams shut and the car starts to shake and move. I hear a static sound and look up and can see a speaker system.

“Please keep your arms within the gondola. We will reach the summit of Stone Mountain in approximately ten minutes. Por favor, tenga las armas dentro de la góndola. Llegaremos a la cima de la montaña de piedra en unos diez minutos.”

“Hello?” I ask and then shake my head, “Just a recording.”

The car rocks back and forth as the overgrown weeds keep it stuck to the ground. It rocks so violently I am fearful the entire car will collapse and then it gently starts to rise off the ground. I take a seat toward the front and watch out the window as the car rises into the sky. At first all I can see is the jungle but slowly I notice little sparkling glints of steel and come to understand this jungle had formed around the cityscape from the brochure.

I can see the Gondola station near the top as we approach. It is not quite at the top maybe a thirty foot climb to the top and the amber light which I can now see is a metallic radio tower. The vehicle comes to a rest and the door opens and I step out. The remains of a ruined building, rusted scrap metal and foundation, are all I find.

I can see a trail that leads around the edge of the mountain, it is nothing but little alcoves dug into the side of the mountain and boards and metal runners going between them. The age does not make it seem any safer and I walk to the edge and put a leg down on the first board. It bows inward and I step off of it and back away from the edge.

“This is crazy,” I speak to myself, “I’m going to get myself killed.”

Back into the Gondola, I hold the keycard at the door but nothing happens. My fist slams into the mechanism at the door but nothing happens. I step back out of the car and toward the edge. Again I examine the path and I can see a chain that runs along the wall and I decide I am crazy enough to try this. I take it slow as my method of overcoming fear had taught me.

The board bows downward but it holds. I keep a grip on the chain so tight I think I might start bleeding. The first alcove is but a short distance and I stop and calm myself. The view is spectacular I can see the jungle and a river that runs through it and beyond appears to be grassland. I look into the alcove and into the dark recess and notice it does not stop but goes down into a cave system.

From my bag a light is found and down into the cave I search. The light pierces but a few paces into the darkness but the system appear to go much deeper. A noise emanates from within. Like a person taking quick shallow breaths I hear it and back away.

The next span is longer but a metal sheet runs to it and I walk with more confidence. Still I grip the chain for my life but I move more quickly and again stop at the next alcove and listen. The noise is growing louder and I get the feeling that something inside is following me. I want to say something but my fear holds me back.

The path goes on much the same as the alcoves climb upward slowly and the top edges closer. The sun is setting and I am losing light as I approach the half way point. The sound continues to grow and follow me and my mind gives it a face. The otherworldly creature my traitorous mind presents me is pale and vaguely humanoid but with white piercing irises and several rows of serrated teeth from an overly large maw. I start to move faster for fear of this creature as the spans grow longer and the trail more dangerous.

The next span is but a single thin metal bar and I amble across like a tight rope walker. One hand on the chain the other out to keep my balance I walk the distance slowly. To think I was once afraid of heights. Below the jungle seemed so silent and serene the little river looks unmoving as if it were painted onto the ground.

As I climb around the mountain the end of the trail becomes visible at the summit. The breathing sound has followed me but I start to block it out as I climb to safety. Closer to the top I could see the trail had once been a concrete walkway but time had worn away all but the alcoves in the mountain side.

The final span is made up of a cracking and deteriorating concrete path and then the last alcove rises to a crumbling stairway. The sound grows louder as I climb the stairway grabbing the guardrail. The rail however is not secure and tumbles outward and down the mountain nearly taking me with it. The banging sound echoes around the mountain as it crashes to the ground below.

The breathing grows into a hiss and then something bursts out from the last alcove. The creature is translucent like the skin of a Jelly Fish but filled and expanded with air until it is just a thin membrane. It appears like a floating balloon with a mouth extending outward stopping in a sucker like a lamprey. The mouth is pinched shut and above is a great mass of eyes, like those of a spider, they seem to examine me curiously for a moment the same way I watch it. After an eternity the mouth opens and for the briefest of moments I can see rows of tiny teeth but before any fear raises in me a jet of air rushes out sending it flying in the opposite direction. It disappears around the side of the mountain and I turn and ascend the stairway.

The stairway opens to the top of the mountain. At the top I find a large flat surface and in the middle is the metallic tower, far atop is the flashing amber light. Around I turned trying to find anything else, why had I come here? How would I get down? I can see the sun setting in what I considered the west and then on the east side something catches my attention.

A column of smoke climbs into the sky. I walk toward the east side of the summit to the very edge and can see a wide valley between the Stone Mountain and the range beyond. A stream of water snakes down one of the mountains from the frozen peak and cuts through the valley. Along this stream are several structures and using the binoculars I can make out people working out in a field.

Real normal regular people, surely they would accept me I was one of them. At the summit I search and find another trail downward into the valley. I take my first step down but in the waning light the trail appears more even then reality would prove. Into the darkness below I tumble. I imagine those farmers below gaping in horror as I scream and slam into the ground.

I fall for ages. Long enough that I wonder if it would be so terrible to die in such a wondrous place. Finally the pain of impact and a cold watery chill force my eyes open.

The sunlight pours through the windows into my studio apartment. The single sun is enough to convince me, I am home. I shake my head. It had felt so real, how could it be a dream. My orange and white cat Tiger jumps onto the bed and stares at me with quiet understanding.

Every night the dream is more vivid. I am gone for longer and make it further. My waking hours seem shorter and faded all the while my time in this dream world grow into something more. The dream I believe will soon take over and I shall not again wake, but for some reason I do not fear that day, for only in dreams may I be free.

 

[cc.slim]

Sweet write! Really descriptive and interesting!

 

[Keero]

I enjoyed the imagery at the start of your first post last time I read it. Forgot to post a comment though. Keep it up!

 

[Exo-Slayer]

I appreciate the kind words, it gives me some well needed encouragement. I've got some ideas for two more chapters to this piece and will probably finish the first one this weekend if anyone has any interest.

 

[Exo-Slayer]

This is a continuation of my last short story. Think I'll wrap it up with one more chapter. I decided to title them the first is The Amber Path but I can't edit my post.

The Speaker from the Darkness

I sit on the bed trying to remember all of the details of the other world. Trying to catch smoke through a net the threads of my experience drift away. Staring out the window in a daze a sound brings me back to the immediate world. The cell phone on my desk is ringing, for how long I don’t know but I answer as the last of the other life is gone.

“Where are you?” A sharp yet dulcet voice demands, “I’ve been calling all morning.”

“I’ve been here all along.” I answer. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Did you just wake up? Do you know how late it is? Were you out partying all night?”

“It’s none of your business. You are clearly calling for a reason, spit it out.”

“You forgot!” She accuses her sweet voice growing incensed.

I forgot? What did I forget? Is it her birthday? What day is her birthday? For that matter what day is it today?

“You are supposed to take me to the aquarium today. Now get your caboose in gear and come pick me up.”

“Right the aquarium. Let me get dressed, twenty minutes.”

I rush but don’t forget anything, the hip clothing, the hair and teeth, must dress for success. Within minutes I am out the door and driving around the corner to her house. She is sitting on the curve looking at her watch as I come to a stop. The sun reflects off her milky skin in contrast to her dark hair.

“I can’t believe you forgot David, I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

“I’m sorry Desiree, what more can I do?”

“You can get the door for me. What is Chivalry dead?”

We drive across town and she is jumping from the car nearly before I park. I follow behind as she rushes to the gate. She stops at the teller and looks at me unsure of the proper etiquette. Was this a date or just a friendly get-together, I decide to take the initiative and buy both tickets.

“You seem quite excited.” I say as I hand her the ticket.

“You know I’m interested in all this stuff, I want to be a marine biologist.” She answers with a condescending tone. “I’ve told you this before.”

“Of course, I’m just saying I think you might have broken a record back there. We should get you in the Olympics.”

She punches me in the shoulder. We wander the tanks and marvel at the creatures. She stops for a moment and makes a face at a puffer fish and it expands like a balloon. We go through tunnel as the large aquarium surrounds us. An Octopus glides through the clear water it descends toward the floor and the tentacles touch the ground giving the illusion that it is walking. The creature seems to watch me and a feeling of déjà vu overwhelms until I feel faint.

“Are you alright? You look pale.” She asks with a note of concern.

“I just need some fresh air.”

She puts an arm around me and leads me out of the tunnel and into the open air. I find a bench and sit staring at the ground. My vision is blurry the world feels unnatural and muted.

“I’ve told you to cut back on the partying. You are getting to old for all that.”

“I haven’t in ages, just having trouble sleeping. That’s not it either. I get plenty of sleep, hell I can’t remember the last time I was up beyond sunset but when I wake I just want to close my eyes again. Something is wrong with me but I can’t fix it here.”

“What do you mean, you can’t fix it here?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’m sorry about ruining your day Des. Why don’t you go have fun I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

“No we should go.”

“How about we make new plans for another day? Maybe something more formal like dinner. I’d love to go on another date.”

She has a look in her eyes as I use the word like she was expecting this conversation for ages. “It’s not that I don’t like you, you are a great friend, but I just don’t want to ruin what we have. I think of you like a brother.”

We drive home in silence. She gives me an innocent smile as she climbs out and I return a bitter grin concealing a grimace. I park as the sun is setting and I plod up the steps. My body feels heavy and my eyes are still blurry. Through the apartment I trudge and I practically fall into my bed. The last anchor to this world torn asunder, again I plunge into the void.

I fall for ages. My body spins as I tumble and I momentarily get a view of the sky above and then the ground far below. In the sky above I see millions of tiny glinting lights that seem to move at incredible speed. Below thin strands of light like phosphorescent bamboo shoots stretch in the darkness and in the distance a single lonely speck of light marching toward it.

The ground approaches and I close my eyes ready for the world about to come. I feel cold water and I keep my eyes shut tight. Hundreds of thin limbs lightly touch me as if their owner was curious. The limbs put pressure on me and lift me out of the water and I can breathe again. Deposited on the sandy beach I am still as the creature backs away into the water. When I turn it reminds me of Christmas lights moving in the wind supported by some huge form below the water.

On my back I rest trying to determine how bad my injuries are when the sky above distracts me. The stars are bright and moving fast like fireflies in the darkness. They form patterns and shapes like a movie projected onto the screen of the night. The sky above me keeps me intrigued and mystified until I hear footsteps approaching.

A woman approaches and I feel as if I should know her. She has dark hair and pale skin and next to her on a string is some kind of glowing balloon giving of a soft luminescence. As she gets closer I recognize the balloon as something in kind to the creature I encountered in the alcove now being used as a torch.

Sitting up takes some effort but I manage and give her a friendly smile. She stops and examines me and looks up the mountain side at the amber light far above and the creature retreating behind. I follow her gaze and the distance seems so far I don’t understand how I survived.

“Do you know where I am?”

She does not respond but looks at me strangely.

“I fell down the mountain. I was following the light. Hey what are those lights in the sky, moving so fast?”

She opens her mouth as if to speak and closes it without releasing any sound. She looks around suspiciously and then she steps close to me and puts her mouth to my ear.

“They are Sat-O-Lights.” She speaks laboriously as if out of practice, “Must be silent, you are not the Speaker.”

“I don’t understand.”

She puts a finger to her lips and shakes her head. With her hand she motions for me to follow and with some effort I stand and walk beside her. From a pocket she removes a small box and slides off the lid and a glowing orb of light floats into the air. The Balloon fish sucks the speck of light into its gullet and the light it emits intensifies.

Together we walk toward the village and the huts. Around the village are the same glowing Balloon fish attached to pylons giving off an eerie glow. The camp is silent when we enter through the gateway and a dreadful fear creeps down my neck. The woman walks to the center of the village where a chain hangs down from a pavilion. She pulls the chain and a loud ringing pours out and around the camp I can hear people waking and before long they are stepping out into the dim light.

The dozens of them are silent as they form up in a semi circle around the bell structure. A large woman steps out from the most opulent building and takes a place next to the structure. The large woman examines me with a haughty look in her eye and I feel like a slab of meat at market. This mammoth woman seems familiar but I cannot make the connection.

“We have a pilgrim then?” The large woman speaks with a tone that she does not expect a response. “It has been many years since the last.”

“I followed the amber light, but I don’t know how I got here.”

Around the village shocked gasps return my outburst. The haughty woman looks at me with anger and wags her chubby finger in my direction. “Are you the Speaker of this village?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You are to be silent just as I am to speak. If you interrupt me again then you shall be hewn down where you stand. Now where was I? Yes we have a pilgrim and we must extend hospitality in our fashion to him. You shall get a night of sleep and tomorrow you may go to work with the one who found you.”

In my bones I can feel the weakness and exhaustion spreading. At this moment a fight or even an argument are beyond my capabilities and I follow her instructions. They provide me with a guest room and a stiff mattress of hay with itchy ruff covers yet I sleep like an infant.

The dreams come even here. I am a child again in elementary school eating lunch in a crowded cafeteria. The children are loud and laughing like normal kids, a large woman stands at the front of the cafeteria with a look of disdain. Next to her is a traffic light set to yellow but as her anger rises she switches it to red and picks up a bullhorn.

“You little maggots are to be silent. The next voice I hear is banished to detention.”

My stomach is in knots as my resentment grows. I want to rally the children to rise up against the woman. To wage war against this vile creature for all the wrongness of the world but I remain silent. I am a coward.

The morning arrives and I walk out of my cabin. The morning light gives me a better look at the village and I notice the roofs of the buildings are made of some huge shells like those of a turtle. The large woman is waiting for me with breakfast, some kind of oatmeal like dribble. The villagers all sneak glances at me during the meal from across the large communal tables at the village center.

After breakfast I find the woman from the beach and she motions for me to follow out of the village. We walk the same path from the previous night down toward the waterfront at the fall. We walk down the stream, the water is an amazing green and has such clarity I can see the bottom. The valley is beautiful with small forests and grass land filling in the rest. As we walk I watch my companion and she keeps her gaze toward the mountain ahead.

“So where are we going? What are we doing today?”

Only silence is returned.

“I know you can speak. Why won’t you talk to me?”

She looks back toward the village and then shakes her head. We continue to walk until we are at the base of the mountain where the water continues through a cave system. She walks to the shore and from a pocket pulls out strips of some strange meat and tosses it down. From the water the long limbs reach out that saved me the night previous. In the day they do not glow but look like long dark flexible bamboo shoots. The body below the water rises and I can see the shoots reach out around the edges of a large shell such as the villagers used.

The creature stops at the edge of the land and the strips of meat disappear below the water. My companion reaches for one of the longer shoots and using a blade trims it to match the rest. She does this to several shoots until the creature finishes and backs away into the deeper water. She then walks toward the mountain following a path into the dark cave. The shoots start to glow in the darkness and provide enough light for our path.

“We use as bait.” She motions toward the glowing sticks and speaks again with her arduous effort. “I teach you.”

“So you can talk!”

“Not so well. The others must not hear me. My mother taught me long ago. She taught brother too.”

“Where are they?”

“They are gone.” She takes a breath and tries to keep the tears back. “Mother got the bug. She was so beautiful the Speaker hated her for it.”

“What of your brother?”

“We use to go exploring and we would talk when we were away. One day we were caught. The Speaker banished him but made me stay behind so that we would be separated.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t even know your name.”

“My mother called me Destinie but my brother always called me Des. What your name?”

“My name,” It takes some effort to recall grasping at the loose strands of my memory. “My name is David.”

“You are well met David.”

“Why did that Speaker woman call me a pilgrim?”

“You followed the amber path did you not? The stories the Speakers have passed down talk of the path left by our ancestors, a way to draw others to our refuge. What is out there, beyond the mountain?”

“A vast jungle and creatures beyond imagination. Before me when did the last pilgrim arrive?”

“Generations ago, none alive can remember such a time. The stories are passed down from one Speaker to the next. They hold our histories and our futures but I think this one does not hold our best interest.”

“Why don’t any of the others speak out?”

“They believe that our God will smite any who speak. It has always been such.”

“Do you believe that?”

“We talk. We live. My mother taught me different stories. She said the world is but a rich tapestry and we are each individual threads, creating either a beautiful or a terrible image by our actions.”

“She was wise as she was beautiful.”

“You are kind. Now we must get to the hunt. You just hold the light and when I say toss it into the net.”

She removes a net from her pack and stretches it out on the ground and attaches runners to rungs in the wall and pulls it just off the ground. She motions toward me and I toss the glowing shoot into the center of the net. It looks much like the moving stars and the orb of light I witnessed the night before. From the dark recesses of the cavern I can hear gusts of air moving like a morning breeze through a thick forest.

Dozens of the balloons jet through the cavern toward the glow and the net baring teeth ready to strike. The path cuts through my head and I dive aside at the last moment. Several of the creatures swoop around the glow and hiss at each other fighting over the prize and then the net spring upward catching all but one. She unsnaps the net from the wall and pulls the rope into loops around her arm as the creatures attempt to lift her from the ground.

“Too many, little help!”

Working together we pull the net toward the ground one arm length at a time. We leave the cave together walking by the water as the shell pops to the surface curious of our catch. Back to the camp we walk with our bounty bouncing a few feet off the ground. As we walk through the gateway the creatures give one last effort and Des is lifted off the ground.

“Grab the posts!” She yells.

With a great effort I pull the line down far enough to loop it over one of the great posts. Des is back on the ground but before we have time to celebrate the bell at the center of the village is ringing. We both turn and the Speaker is pulling the chain as the villagers form up, the look on her face is almost cheerful.

“In line you two.” She yells in our direction and we form up at the far end as she screams out, “Grab the girl.”

“What are you doing?” I yell out trying to keep Des behind me. “Get away!”

“She has defiled our laws for long enough. This is the final straw. She will be burnt, an offering to our lord. If you keep this up you will join her.”

“I will not allow this!” I scream as much at the Speaker as at the rest of the villagers. “We are leaving this vile place.”

The villagers ignore my argument and push me aside and take hold of Destinie. She struggles and fights a fist strikes one of the men knocking him to the ground but behind him are countless others.

“Stop this!” I roar, “If your God is so powerful then strike me where I stand.”

“You play with fire boy. The great one will leave you as cinders on the ground.”

“Then do it, let your great one do his worst. Before I go may I ask the name of my executioner?”

The Speaker stammers at a loss of words.

“You don’t even remember do you? Has it been so long since you were challenged that you have forgotten your ancient threats?”

“Silence!” She screams her voice cracking with anger. “You dare question me?”

“Where is the sign in the sky? I say you are a Charlatan. I say your God is dead! Never existed and if so then you have defiled his ways! If you had any true power he would strike me down for my sacrilege. Now take your hands off her we are leaving!”

“You are an infidel, an outsider and he will not strike down someone who is but ignorant-.”

“THEN STRIKE ME DOWN!” Destinie bellows and her captors back away in awe. “I speak yet I live? How can that be?”

The villagers stare at one another confused as the Speaker stands mouth agape glaring at Destinie. The look on the Speakers face reveals she understands the position she has been placed. “Leave now before I change my mind!”

We walk out of the gateway hand in hand as the villagers stare at our passing. As we walk through I release the rope on the net and it soars through the air and disappears in the clouds. Destinie leads me toward the water and we wait for a moment and one of the shells rises to the surface. She climbs atop and motions for me to follow. I hop across the water and nearly topple over but one of the shoots reaches up and stabilizes me.

We sit and the creature launches forward through the cool green water. Her eyes dart from one side of the valley to the other as we pass knowing this will be the last memory of her home. The stream takes us into a cave and we move closer as the damp air is cold. In the recesses of the cave are the balloon fish glowing lightly and we leave them in peace. The stream goes deep into the cave and then stops and the creature is still as we climb off and walk through the cave.

“What will happen back there?” She asks with concern in her voice. “They were not all bad, just scared.”

“Maybe not today but soon I think the people will stand up to the Speaker. Your actions today put doubt in their minds and it will only grow with time. Every avalanche starts with but a single pebble and before long it shall crush her.”

The light from the balloon fish is enough to guide our path. From the roof of the cave huge crystal stalactites drip downward in random patterns. The cave has hidden passages and alcoves but the main path is direct and we do not deviate from it. Des suddenly pulls me to one side of the cave to examine something and I see an arrow on the wall in white chalk.

“Could it be do you think my brother has left markers for me?”

“Anything is possible here.”

“I know it. That night when you fell I should not have been out there but I had a dream. It was vivid and I knew you would be out there.”

We continue still holding hands and ahead we can make out light at the end of the tunnel. We take careful but paced steps through the wet cave quickening our pace as the light grows. Before long we are jogging and then running toward the exit smiling and laughing. The cave opens onto a body of water and a land bridge connecting to something unexpected.

Across the water we can see huge skyscrapers rising into the sky. Blinding sunlight reflects off the glass and shimmering metal of the intact buildings. It seems so different from the world we had encountered so far but it is eerie in another way. The cityscape is completely silent, no people, no cars, only a dry wind rushing through the land.

“I remember this place.” The memories come flooding back. “I lived here once long ago but it is different.”

“I don’t like it.” Destinie shivers as she speaks, “So big yet so empty.”

“Yes, home bittersweet home.”

 

[dorkelf]

Hi Exo-Slayer! I couldn't help but notice the "moderator" title under your user name. Are you now moderating this forum? If so, congratulations!
I think the first story you posted has the potential to be a real page-turner. Since you’ve invited me to critique, let me give you a suggestion about how to accomplish that, if I may. I have only read the first part of your story from your first post. I prefer to critique it before reading more, so that I am approaching it and reacting to it just as a reader would approach it when reading for the first time, without the benefit of knowing what comes next.

My favorite part of this beginning was your Point-of-view character’s confession:

"Perhaps if that hero had lived the world could have survived. Perhaps if there were more like him, had they found each other and banded together. Instead I lived, and stole from others, and did much worse in time. I took something from the world, something that could not be made right again."

The reason I love this is because I can relate to that feeling, that if someone were in my place they would be so much more responsible than I am and less self-indulgent, would do a much better job, etc. Any reader can identify with that feeling. So this is really what will grab at the heart of your reader and make them identify with your POV.

You really need to get to this point as soon a possible. Your obstacle is all the things that are happening at the beginning of your story that may be menacing, but which involve mostly-indescript and stereotyped characters the reader may not care about. So lets look at everything leading up to the confession.

First, your POV character begins to tell his story, out loud and probably to himself. This presumably occurs after the events of your main action scene, which is a flashback. No clear setting…so we assume it occurs in the same post-apocalyptic city.

Then your main action scene: An obvious victim (used to be overweight and is now anemic, has something vitally important stolen from her, doesn’t fight back, lives in the area, otherwise we know nothing about her) is victimized by someone your POV describes as a scoundrel and vagabond and seems to have the look of one (otherwise, we know nothing about him) who seems more like a victim himself when he’s waylaid by Adonis the hero, in an exercise of impressive strength, before Adonis is waylaid by other badguys (otherwise, we know nothing about Adonis) who have a van and guns(otherwise, we know nothing about the other bad guys).

My point about saying “otherwise we know nothing” is not that these are bad ideas, just that the reader has little to identify with in these characters. There are bad things going down for sure, and the actions themselves do help to build your world and tell your reader about your POV character. But I think you need to give your reader more incentive to care about these characters in this scene. These characters need more dimension. Your victim is too much a victim, too little a person. You need to humanize her. She should not be nondescript (other than her emaciation). She should walk a particular way (steadily looking down at her feet, talking to the package as she walks, chewing on a finger, something that fits her). She should have a demeanor or behavior that tells us something interesting about her. And most importantly she should mean something to your POV character. Maybe your POV has seen her begging? (is that why he chooses not to intervene?) We also need to feel her loss. There should be a moment before the package is stolen when she first realizes she is going to lose it. Then we need to experience the profound emotion of the “grab” with her. Or anything along these lines, so we can feel something (pain, loss, whatever you want the reader to feel) as your action scene unfolds.

Your Hero Adonis is entirely one-sided and stereotypical, which you use to good effect in a humorous end for him…however, this type of comic relief doesn’t really belong at this point in the story. We can’t laugh at this ignominious end to Captain America’s long lost twin brother so soon after we cry at the poor woman’s loss…assuming that is the emotion you choose for your reader to experience. Also his death is so inglorious that many readers will not share your POV's opinion that he would have possibly been capable of saving the world had he survived.

Once again, the highlight of this introduction is how your POV character feels about the death of the last hero. Maybe this is someone who could have saved the world. What if I’d stepped forward to help the woman, and I’d gotten killed instead of him? Then the world might have been saved.

Thanks for soliciting a critique – this is something I really enjoy doing, because I learn a lot about the process of writing and how to find these same issues in my own writing where they are much harder for me to see. Keep up the good work!

Paul

I have never posted in this forum but I enjoy writing. Written a few books but I have been too afraid to send them anywhere. Thought I would start doing some short fiction and post it here and become more active in the forum.

This is a bit of post apocalyptic fiction. It's pretty dark and depressing but how can the end of the world not be? I have got a few other short things written but need to edit them a bit. Any critique or suggestion would be appreciated.

 

[Exo-Slayer]

To be honest I’m not sure why it says Moderator, I’ve done it for some forums in the past but I don’t think I’m a moderator or admin of anything at the moment.

Thanks for the input. I agree the characters are pretty bare caricatures and if I do continue this story I may go back and flesh them out a little bit more. I tried to make the characters kind of iconic so that you could fill in the details yourself but that was perhaps the wrong direction as it leaves you without reason to care for any of them. This was an attempt at Flash fiction (300-1000 words) that grew a little long as it is. Looking back there is a bit of repetition in the imagery perhaps I should have cut that down and added to the characters or just expanded it into a short story of longer length.

I definitely agree the Victim is lacking she is basically in the story just to be a victim, I was thinking about going back and adding some other aspect to the character, I also agree the hand off of the bag was a bit weak after the long lead up. The Adonis was supposed to be a Dudley Do-Right like character who while he may not have been able to single handedly change things the bigger point was that even with all the tragedy he would try, while at the same time being completely unprepared for the real darkness of the world.

One thing that I may not have made obvious enough is the narrator is unreliable and even while he is alone at the end of everything he still finds it difficult to admit he is actually the scoundrel from his story. My original thoughts was to play it up like the narrator was the Adonis and then play a switcheroo but I don’t have a lot of experience in the first person and maybe that was my failure.

 

[Exo-Slayer]

I finished the third and final part of the story I posted previously. Not sure if anyone actually read it but I figured I'd finish this thing.

The Negative People

Sometimes I think that all the bad parts of me were inherited from my parents. That anything good within me is only created when I actively try to go against my nature. I realize this is just an excuse, but then again my parents were also quite good at making excuses.

If I were to quantify my struggle against that inherited nature this moment would put me at critical mass. I still don’t remember much. The sinewy strands of memory creep in and out of my gray matter like water through a strainer. Flashes of a past, another world, flutter in my minds eye. I remember my parents, they over packed for everything, they lacked one iota of spontaneity or adventure, and never kept a single promise.

Today I find myself climbing down a mountain with a beautiful and mysterious woman into an unknown world. With no home to go back to and no specific destination in mind this is my adventure. On my back is but a small pack of gear that I don’t remember even packing. My mother spent days packing useless junk until she would miss her trip entire.

Des looks up at me and smiles as she gracefully lowers herself down the mountain side her voluptuous curves marked against the morning light. “I promise to never leave you.” I say wanting to go for the trifecta. Wanting to be what my parents never could.

“Not like much place else to go.” She responds the confidence in her voice rising with each syllable. “Still appreciate sentiment.”

“I really mean it. There is nowhere else I would rather be then here by your side in this crazy backwards world of yours.”

“You talk too much.” She answers turning her head to hide her flushed cheeks, “Come on down its not far.”

The rope is strong yet gentle on my hands. Where did it come from? When we needed to descend the mountain it just seemed to appear in my bag. These are things we should be questioning but why bother when there are so many other amazing things to distract us.

“Hurry we should reach city before sunset.” She mimes a climbing motion. “You are like infant, so slow.”

“Hey I hated climbing the rope in gym glass give me a break. We will make it the sun just came up.”

“Time is different here. Some days it goes on forever while others.” She makes a crashing motion with her hands. “Just hurry.”

Carefully I descend from the mouth of the cave to a flat parapet below. I pull on the rope and it neatly slinks down and lands in a coil on the ground. I marvel at the strangeness of everything as I put it back in the bag and nearly cut myself on the spatula from the Gondola ride. We share a small meal from the bag and each take a drink from the canteen and continue.

A gentle trail leads down the hills and toward the water and the city beyond. We hold hands as we carefully descend to level ground. Destinie is full of smiles like someone just left a box of kittens on her door step. We reach the water after a short hike and make an odd observation.

A metal walkway leads across the water and right to the edge of the city. It seems untouched by the hand of time save for a few spots of missing railing. We watch the water for a moment and see movement out at the middle. The binoculars come in handy once again.

“What is it?” Destinie asks.

“They look like tiny speed boats shooting water into the air.”

“What’s a speed boat?”

“Here take a look.”

She looks at the small objects as they zoom around the water sending jets of mist into the air. “They are called Zips. They come down stream sometimes.”

“Why Zips?” I am curious of everything in this place.

“You know. ZZZZZZZZ.” She makes a movement with her hand like a child playing with a race car and a kind of engine noise. “They are harmless.”

“Alright then let us continue.”

We step onto the walkway and it sways lightly but feels safe enough. We walk side by side watching the Zips playfully chase each other in the surf. The metal walkway opens onto a small island in the center of the waterway covered in lush grass. Des takes off her leather moccasins and motions for me to do the same. The grass is still cool and damp from the morning dew.

“It’s so close to my village but everything feels different, as if I am experiencing life for the first time.”

“Welcome to my world, everything is new to me here. At least we aren’t alone.”

We walk to the next span of walkway and stop at another sign. A white chalk mark points down the path and toward the city beyond. We nod to each other but say nothing as if not wanting to jinx whatever it might mean.

As we approach the end of the trail we notice the Zips acting strangely. They seem to be racing around trying to avoid something under the water. The water stirs as if something massive is gliding just below the surface, it boils and waves slam into the bridge. The water seems to retract downward and a giant gullet breaks the surface swallowing the harmless creatures.

“What is that?” I question but my gaze never waivers.

The giant mouth is followed by a sleek and metallic looking creature like a cross between a shark and an alligator. The black body so massive it feels more like looking at an aircraft carrier then some living creature. It chases the remaining Zips across the lake gulping them down one by one until none remain.

“Just stay still.” Des finally speaks. “We have legend about such a creature. Tiburon they called it, the Great Serpent.”

The creature turns toward us and a clear view of its inner workings reveal a series of gears, pistons and otherworldly machines. The infernal mechanisms move at impossible speeds as the shark rushes toward the walkway. The mouth opens so large it could swallow us standing up and I notice the unending rows of jagged teeth.

“Run!” My voice cracks as I try to pull Des but she does not budge.

“No outrunning it. What is it after?”

“What! Come on!”

“It eats shiny bits.”

“What? Shiny bits, what are you on about?”

“You know.” She knocks on some imaginary object. “Tink tink.”

The creature rushes forward as I think about her words. Waves crash into the bank and the bridge causing it to rock violently. The bag, maybe something in the bag we can fight it with. Rustling through the contents I nearly stab myself on the spatula and realize what Des meant. From the bag I pull the device and notice it is flashing and glowing like a Christmas tree. I hold it overhead and fling it toward the island.

The shark turns and chases the device onto the land beaching itself. The metallic body writhes and fights but only its tail can touch the water. It moves like a centipede made up of hundreds of individual metal ringlets. We marvel at the sight for several minutes until we come to our senses and flee.

When we reach solid ground my lungs are burning and my heart is pumping battery acid. We sit and catch our breath looking into each other’s eyes realizing how close we came to the end of everything. Can I truly die here? That fall should have killed me yet I am still whole.

“That was fun.” Des speaks with a satiric smile. “What other mischief can we find?”

“Whatever is waiting for us in the city?”

We continue our journey toward the city crossing from a rocky trail to a paved road. The first signs of civilization we encounter are small, discarded trash and a few road signs. The road signs are distantly familiar to me yet I cannot read them. Soon the symbols become larger as we pass a gas station and then suburban homes with picket fences.

The neighborhoods are all empty and silent. No human voice or animal call for that matter ever disturbs our travel only the hot wind whistling through the deserted streets. The city seems pristine, no sign of violence, no explanation for the desertion. We pass an empty park, no childish laughter to raise our spirits.

“I don’t like this place.” Des speaks. “We should pass on through my brother would not have stopped here.”

“We should watch for any signs besides this place seems familiar I want to know what it means.”

We pass from the suburbs into the city proper. The tall buildings remain like titans from the past judging those who travel under them. That lingering feeling of familiarity returns as we pass an aquarium the sign outside still lit up announcing a special octopus showing. I feel synapses firing yet they cannot make a connection with this place beyond the feeling.

Destinie begins to move faster, pulling me along behind. The air grows colder as we move through the streets and the tall shadows of the buildings hide the sun. We gravitate towards each other for warmth walking side by side again.

“Maybe we should go up one.” I say motioning toward a particularly large building. “Get a view of the area, you know for any signs from your brother.”

Destinie shivers but nods her head.

As we approach the building we see another sign. This time the arrow points into the building right to an awaiting elevator. We walk together into the building and I press the button and surprisingly it has power. After a long moment the door opens and I step in pulling an apprehensive Destinie into the elevator. The elevator moves quickly and opens on the observation deck. Stepping out we see another sign.

On the edge of the concrete deck an arrow points out of the city and seemingly follows a winding road. The road crosses a winding river several times as ancient bridges seem to thumb their nose at time. From our vantage we can see the road goes unbroken into the horizon.

“At least we have a direction to follow.” I say, “And knowledge that he made it this far.”

“I know he is out there. We should leave before it gets dark. I don’t want to sleep in this place.”

We turn around and notice the sun setting on the western horizon from hence we came. The last tendrils of flame lick the ground and the white dwarf follows as night envelopes the world. Still the city is not dark as overhead lights kick on. We walk toward the edge and the entire city is alight. More than that it must be some kind of illusion it almost looks like people are walking on the streets.

We walk back to the elevator and find it has stopped working. We circle the top floor and find the emergency stairs. We descend together marveling that the lights are still working after so long. The city is in such great condition, it is all so impossible.

“Maybe when we find your brother we can return to the village. I’m sure we can convince some to leave. Maybe we could repopulate this place.”

“Maybe, but this place still stirs something inside me. I don’t know why but we should not linger here.”

As if an answer to her question a spectral ghostly form comes into view from the level below. The apparition appears to be a business man with briefcase but he glows faintly like a negative photo. The mouth of the man is moving and he holds some device to his face but no words come out.

We back against the wall as the apparition climbs the stairs and passes without incident. We both inhale deeply our hearts racing. After a moment I notice her hands are embedded into my arm like a vice.

“What was that?” I whisper.

“How should I know?”

“This is your world not mine.”

“Let’s just leave, like I said.”

We walk together down the stairs watching for any more of the creatures. The only sound is our footsteps as we descend and nothing greets us until we reach the main stairwell. As we enter the larger stairwell the same entities are walking up and down as if going about a normal day. Hundreds of them, men, women and children pass through the halls all silent yet speaking with one another.

We press against the wall and descend trying to avoid the beings. It becomes more difficult as we reach the bottom the amount of the creatures is staggering as they walk up in lines. Suddenly Destinie screams out in pain. I pull her into an alcove behind a potted plant.

“What?”

“I touched one.” Destinie answers rubbing her hand.

“Did it hurt?”

“Not exactly, it was cold. Yet there was something else. It was like a flash of another life, for the briefest of moments I could feel them. I think these people are gone, these are just echoes from the past.”

“Whatever it is I don’t think we should touch them.”

“Agreed but how?”

“Just need to make it out to the street.”

We emerge from the alcove and duck back in as an immense fat ghostly echo passes. I check again and we rush toward the exit of the building. Out on the street we encounter countless numbers of the spectral echoes, walking and driving on the street. They take no notice of us as we pass and walk east toward the road out of town.

We dodge and avoid the echoes as best we can. I motion toward a less crowded street and we get off the main road. We breathe again as the street is less crowded yet still the echoes go about their business. A ghostly woman walks her ghostly dog and picks up his ghostly droppings in a bag.

A ghostly mail main makes his delivery as a paperboy tosses the daily from his transparent bike. As we pass a building the feeling returns and I stop and turn. I stare at it for a moment as Destinie tries to pull me on. She turns and looks on with me and shrugs her shoulders. This place is familiar but how?

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Give me a minute I want to check it out.”

“No we need to keep moving.”

“It will only be a minute.

I cross the street and climb up the stairs. Before I touch the door the air of the city seems to change. The echoes on the street stop in place and turn to watch. The paperboy and the mail man and the dog walker all stop. Blank faces stare at me from across the city and I feel cold.

I turn the handle and push open the door. At the same time the echoes start to move toward the building and Destinie rushes inside. Fear should grip me but it does not for I understand this feeling at last. This is my home.

Inside is even more familiar as I rush inside and shut and bolt the door. I listen at the door for a moment and hear the footsteps approach. After a moment clawing and pounding starts at the door and the window. I turn and rush down the hall and Destinie follows. I ascend a stairway and find the door to my studio apartment. As I touch the door an icy voice echoes across the city and pierces my very soul.

“You may not leave.”

It is as if the entire city spoke as one. As if all the echoes focused their thought to become corporal if only for a moment. The pounding and scratching continued not only at the front door but at several of the other apartment doors.

“You may not leave. You are one of us now.”

I push open the door and freeze. The thing I see is beyond anything this place has shown me. More bizarre then the Octopus Monkeys or the Balloon Fish, more impossible then was surviving my fall and more amazing then meeting Destinie. On my bed inside the room I see myself sleeping.

Across the room I stumble. Destinie follows and stands in shock not understanding. I reach to touch myself and stop frightened of the implication. Destinie opens her mouth and closes it finally at a loss of words.

“You may not leave. You are one of us now. You will sleep forever.”

The voice seems less strange now that I have seen this. For a moment I ponder what it all means and then the word turns hazy. The door starts to buckle from the echoes pounding yet it does not matter. Destinie screams yet the voice is muted only her mouth moves.

“It’s time to wake up. Get up Dave!” Like the voice of God another voice echoes from the heavens. “Damn it, time to wake up!”

My eyes open on the real. I sit up in my bed watching the blinking lights from the console at my side. My arms are thin and I feel weak. Standing at the side of the bed is a familiar face, an old friend.

“How long have I been away?” I ask my voice horse.

“You haven’t been to work in three days.” John answers. “They are going to fire your butt if you don’t show up tomorrow.”

“I know I just got caught up in the game.”

“You know you are supposed to reset this crap every few days or it starts messing with your head. Jesus your skinny, what are you trying to kill yourself?”

“I’m just not hungry. Listen man I need to get back in there. Need to finish this thing.”

“No you need to quit this and get a real life. If you don’t show up tomorrow don’t bother coming back.”

“I can live a few months on my severance. That’s all I need.”

“You are messed up man. Please promise me you will quit this and do something real.”

I look out the window at the grey skies as they open up and pour down. I watch as children flee the acidic rain crying as it gets in their eyes. The trees that once lined the streets are rotting in heaps on the side of the road. I shake my head at the futility of it all.

“Don’t talk to me about life. I was born for a different time. A time of exploration and wonder but that is all over the frontiers have all been catalogued and sterilized. The oceans are acidic, the earth is used up, and even space the final frontier has lost its mystery as we flee from this planet like rats on a sinking ship. All that remains is inside. The only uncharted wilderness is what we create within. This is my last option, it is this or slow death from world-weariness.”

“I can’t talk to you like this. You need professional help.”

“Just leave. You have no responsibility to me.”

With that my colleague departs in silence. Before I rejoin I make a final meal. I clean myself and hook myself back into the bed. I disconnect the safety switch from the machine and integrate back into the dream.

The world starts to change. The machine disappears and once again I am in the same room. I get up from the bed and find Destinie struggling with one of the echoes. She falls to her knees as tears stream down here beautiful face.

“ENOUGH!” I yell as the foundation of the world seems to tremble. “This is my world I will shape it how I see fit!”

With that the echoes disappear like smoke rising from a fire. Only Destinie and I remain. I hold out my hand and she takes and steadies herself. She embraces me and we share a passionate kiss.

“Did it hurt you?” I ask wiping away her tears.

“No. I just. I thought you left me.”

“I made a promise. Come on we need to find your brother.”

We walk out the door and through the once again empty apartment building. Outside sits my familiar car running and waiting. I open the door and she climbs in and I take the driver’s seat. We drive out of the city and down that curving road holding hands and smiling. We drive across the ancient bridges and beyond the horizon. We drive into the sunrise, to the grail, to that gold at the end of the rainbow, to our destiny. For it is not what you find at the end of the journey but rather the adventure you experienced, the lessons you learned, the connections you made, that truly matter.

Can I really enjoy this happy ending? Can I really live this lie? Every moment the truth seems to dissolve from my mind, an effect of the game of course. Soon it will all be gone just flittering images from another life, and I can accept that. I know she isn’t real, none of this is but reality is just what our senses tell us is genuine and in a few minutes I won’t know the difference.

As the last vestiges dissolve I think about my other body, out there in the real. It shall wither and die just as we as a species have degenerated. I know in time we shall all either immigrate out or integrate into this future leaving the earth time to heal. When that final wretched man withers and dies and that last death rattle is carried on the wind I know what it might say. We made this a miserable place, you may take it back.

 

[Avesther]

Very good. I can't critique like others. Not sure why you haven't sent your books to be published, worst thing they say is no, which is the answer you have now. Needless to say, there has to be smaller local publishers or writers guilds in your area to help you flush out your writing.