Abandoned Stories (Part 2/6)
In case you somehow missed last weeks post, I am tackling old abandoned short stories of mine in an attempt to feel more accomplished as a writer…despite most of these being from 2018. I’d like to think that means I completed the ideas I thought of from 2020 onward (since I was in short story courses, it is highly probable).
Here are several short stories that I came up with at various times, whether it be the first paragraph or the first page, I want to finish them. So this will be part 1 in a continued series. These are taken from my laptop, but there will be some from my phone as well because I am a devil-may-care writer with very little self-discipline.
The original portions of the stories I will make purple (or #7600FF) and the new additions will be traditional black. I will also put notes at the top and bottom in bold and bracketed off.
The first is called:
“Hunger”
(So this one is completely new to me, I have no small memory to pull the inspiration for this one from. So it’s a completely blank slate for me… Here we go.)
An explosion. The loudest one yet since the fighting started. A box to my left shifts and brief panic settles deep in my abdomen, until I see the innocent little eyes of a mouse stare into the black oozing pit that is my soul. The air leaves my lungs, and steadies as the mouse continues its search for food, unaware of the chaos littering the streets outside. But it won’t find any. We ran out days ago, rations dwindled until even the crumbs were devoured in raw hunger. That’s when we lost most of the children. Too starved and dehydrated by the selfish strength and greed of the adults, including myself. A shame that I still feel digging into my stomach from my heart, tunneling a path leaving a void in its wake.
“If you find anything, you’d let me know right? We’re pals…little…little grey friend,” I hesitantly whisper in an attempt to keep more destruction from this tiny creature. The mouse sniffs at the dusty floor in a desperate search for a crumb. It’s whiskers twitch and it looks back at me. “What? I don’t have anything…sorry.” I offer my index finger for it to sniff; pain and fear permeate my cracked skin. I fell from the second concrete floor of this abandoned building, hitting the only piece of furniture on the bottom floor—a plastic chair, I landed directly on the jaded metal front leg that was disconnected from the plastic seat. My fibula sawed through my soleus, narrowly avoiding the Achilles’ tendon, to the shredded gastrocnemius muscle.
My head swims with the blood-loss, even though I splinted the wound with the metal leg I fell on and a strip of my shirt. “You know, if you wait a little longer, I’ll probably be dead and you’ll be eating very well.” I look at its tiny mouth, “Hmm, maybe not. You might have to wait a few weeks to chew through my…outer layer—no, that’s even worse—you will have to chew through my skin, but the muscle is where it’s at…wait, do mouses, meeses? mice, that’s the word…are mice carnivores?”
The little black eyes stares at my still extended finger, “Oh, you definitely would eat me if you were bigger.” I gaze at its 1/2 inch claws, taking the shape of a Velociraptor, and its little furry smile turning into a gaping maw of a shark. The walls turn to ashy goo as they melt upwards and the floor turns to teeth. “Am I hallucinating?”
The mouse wipes its snout and puts glasses on, “Yes, I think you are, but also I’ve smelt a few granola crumbs on you and will promptly climb your lap as you draw one of your last breaths. So don’t mind me.” The mouse fixes his bow-tie and pats down his suit as he grapples with my pant leg.
“I can’t feel my limbs anymore, but I give you permission to eat me after I’m gone, but please wait—I’m not sure if I can handle being eaten alive right now…”
“Of course, it shouldn’t be long now. I will watch over you, good in peace my friend.” The mouse-in-a-suit bows as my eyes start to close.
“I miss my parents, ‘m not sure if they made it out of the city…did they look for me? Did they miss the initial blast? I hope their in a safe zone underground, I don’t think I’ll ever get the taste of ash out of my mouth; painting my taste buds in powdered bodies mixed with missed-place power…I always thought…y’know I always thought I would survive in an apocalypse scenario…just because I watched horror movies like an Olympic-qualified athlete training for their debut…” my mouth slurs each word and trips on each syllable. “I think…I think I’m…”
The broken person’s eyes close and stay shut, the mouse watches as promised despite none of the exchange being real. A siren blares in the background as the mouse gets its much deserved meal.
(I feel like that is a good place to finish the story, especially for a “world is gone” type of story.)
The second is called:
“Seeing Through the Lens”
(I thought I was clever)
Dense and dark the clouds rolled in, strong and violent the seas flowed. Earth below shuttered and snapped, Nature burned with a crack.
Many tales start the same, there’s a light and then a flame. Something hidden in the shadows, only stirred when whispers call. When darkness shrouds, light pierces it swiftly. Too many a times has it been easy, what if one day they say “No!”; as heroes come and go, the darkness will come. Who will answer the call when the halls are empty, the cities burn, the people bleeding?
Not the hero, for it is no longer their care to aid the needy…
The world’s heroes ignore the calls to aid, long exasperated with the pleas of humanity. How can you ask for help when the world darkened under their watch. Even the fates ignored humanity, despite them being so entangled in their progress.
What would happen in an instance such as this? The world would not fall, perhaps in the beginning it would, but heroes don’t always fix the world. So without heroes, time would be uncertain—any threat now increased in danger tenfold without a wall of force to protect everyone. If a threat emerged, people would die—such is the way—and populations would struggle (some more than others). The population might even be reduced by 70%, but like anything manipulated by evolution—-it will adapt to the threat. New humans might have stronger bones or a the shape of the hands might change to claws, or humans develop night vision… whose to say.
In this reality, heroes are not real—let me rephrase; heroes with superpowers are not real (whether or not you believe firefighters or cops are heroes) and do not impact our day-to-day life. You might say that having a superhero on hand would stop wars or power-trips…need I remind you superheroes are made for wars and most heroes grow insane with power.
Seeing through the lens, I can say that heroes would not make our situation better—though it might have changed our history as we know it (or if politics weren’t as toxic and chaotic).
(This one turned into more of a commentary on the war with Russia and Ukraine. Sorry in advance, it’s hard to focus with a story like this that sounds so familiar to what I’ve been thinking)
And the last of March 17th 2018 is called:
“Two of Them Stood”
(Now this one seems finished, or at least close to so it’ll probably be even harder to come up with an ending for this. Also, if this doesn’t seem appropriate for the political climate than idk what…I mean I even wrote this idea in 2018…like WTF?)
Two of them stood there at edge of the cliff, lost in thought.
“What will happen to our home? Our families?”
“It’s too late for them, the world has spoken. The end is near.”
They grabbed each other, holding on for the last physical contact they will most likely receive. It was over for them, they could hear objects drop rapidly from its higher altitude. Crashing, shattering, breaking the foundation from under them. The last moments of life on Earth.
No one really knows how it started, only whispers of the truth floating through countries. How did it get so bad that not one person saw the signs? It seems almost impossible, but here they were. Maybe it started with the world leaders disagreeing, or the actions of one dictator, or the ignorance of others, regardless of the cause it would always lead to this end. War, fear, death, disease, extinction.
Striking despair and desperation into souls, most people cannot escape it. Others can avoid it for a while before it too destroys them. Hopelessness.
Of course, times were different before, full of joy and optimism. Families could picnic and enjoy the sun beating down on their faces as the sounds of children scream and laugh surround them. Without the worry that the screams meant danger. Individuals would visit the cinema or mall and waste time walking around for no other reason than to be in each other’s company. Simplicity.
Things quickly escalated.
---
One moment, Lou looked out her window in wonder, seeking answers in the shifting colours of the sunset on the island. “Mom, why are we on this island? I thought the bombs could spread anywhere?” She whispered, afraid that somehow her voice could attract the fighter jets thousands of feet in the air.
Her mother, Helen, walked to her at the window and pulled the curtains closed, “You don’t need to worry sweetheart, the jets are only looking for our enemies.”
Lou tilted her head to the side, “But how can they see who is who from way up there?”
Helen looked at the covered window, looking for answers as well, “That’s why your father put up the flag outside when we came here, no one will try to hurt us with it hanging proudly in the air like that. Now, come on, grab Claire and get ready for bed.” She smiled at Lou, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes but she forced it anyway, trying desperately to remain calm. What Lou didn’t see was that right before Helen had closed the curtain, a jet flew over the house and circled.
The next moment had Jeffrey sprinting down the narrow alleyway, sweat pouring down his face and into his eyes. His laboured breathing drowned out by the machine gun shredding through concrete. Jeffrey could feel the debris hitting the bottoms of his feet, he knew it was only a matter of time.
“Daddy!” Claire, his five-year-old daughter exclaimed. Helen’s face became pale and hollow upon seeing Jeffrey’s face—bloodied and dirty from the sprint back.
“Hi, babygirl,” Jeffrey took his youngest daughter in his arms. “Lou, come here.” Lou grabbed Jeffrey’s legs, as she was only nine, and Helen walked up after her holding everyone as tight as she could.
“Is it time?” Lou asked.
Helen nodded, “close your eyes my loves.” The family, in their embrace, slowly close their eyes one by one as the concrete shook above them. Jeffrey happily took his fate, if only he could’ve saved his family first. “Nowhere and everywhere,” Helen spoke their promise into Jeffrey’s neck—a promise that once seemed so silly, to have their love expand nowhere and everywhere at the same time rather than be apart.
“Nowhere and everywhere…”
(I know I just added a scene but like I said, I’m not in a goo headspace with the literal third world war going on)
I decided to do four this time, as the last one was a little short apocalyptic flash fiction story, this one is from April 2018 from my phone:
“Mother of Earth”
(I went through a phase where I liked to create my own myths for “Gods” like Nature in the same vein of Greek mythology, though my memory fails specifically why nature of all things; whether because of my affinity towards or my wander of Nature itself, I do not know for certain. I also started getting into science-fiction novels as well.)
“The Fall of Earth happened so suddenly that most couldn’t predict the damage it would wreck upon the planet. Many didn’t survive, those who did were cowardly and only protected themselves underground.” Star maps and a holographic-geometric diagram hovered in the centre of the classroom. “Thankfully not all of Earth’s survivors were that way. One person excelled above all, R’ilre rose up and lead her people to better themselves. With a strict justice system and nutritional restrictions, R’ilre cut down the cowardice and from the ashes , bravery took its place.”
Read by Appret. May 13th, 20XX, 13:00:38
——No, no, that’s not right. It sounds too…hateful. Maybe something more light. Remember Marh, we need people to remember this day in history.
Read by Marh. 13:01:17
——Maybe something more detached then?
Marh is typing…
“The Fall of Earth surprised scientists and citizens alike. The loss of gravity from the solar star’s disappearance changed the very makeup of humanity, driving many minds to madness without the star’s light. Few braved the outside in those first few months, many died in their homes in fear and without hope. The people who survived the beginning developed a hunger for the dark and started digging tunnels underground, it was a common belief that if you were underground, you could lie to yourself and say there was still a sun.”
——is this better?
Read by Appret. 13:05:48
——Yes! Let’s add something like…
Appret is typing…
“The madness slowly receded in the comfort of the lies, humanity’s burden lightened and society began again. Many children were born in those tunnels but R’ilre was the first child born underground. Her body naturally adapted for the low light, her teeth and bones were brittle but her body didn’t require as much nutrition. Those who were born before the Fall soon grew sick and died, but not R’ilre. Despite her weak outer appearance, she lived well into her hundreds—the lack of gravity and no need for sun lengthened her life, as was the norm for the other children born after the Fall.”
Read by Marh. 13:10:13
——Don’t you think we should keep to the facts? No one even remembers R’ilre anymore.
Read by Appret. 13:10:23
——The facts say she was mad, do you think we’ll get a good grade on our report if we say “R’ilre was one of few who could survive the harsh conditions of the underground, went insane, killed most of her town after being elected mayor, and set-back scientific advancement by a couple hundred thousand years”?
Read by Marh. 13:10:33
——I don’t think lying is going to help, our teacher has eyes and the ability to checkout our references.
Read by Appret. 13:10:43
——Fair point. But the whole point of this report is to add fiction to missing points in our history. After the great burning…during R’ilre reign.
Read by Marh. 13:10:53
——there’s a lot of dark shit in these pages, Pret.
Read by Appret. 13:11:04
——Wanna meet at the cafe?
Read by Marh. 13:11:14
——Sure.
Appret is typing…
——Hey are you OK? You seemed shaken up when we met yesterday.
Read by Marh. 10:40:13
——-Mm, I don’t know. I guess it’s such weird to reread this stuff knowing how awful she really was and trying to hero-ify her in our report.
Read by Appret. 10:40:16
——I guess, I didn’t know how scary she was. Even in the snippets my mom told me.
Read by Marh. 10:40:19
——Yeah my dad cut out the parts where she ate the other children out of jealousy.
Read by Appret. 10:40:23
——or that the only reason we are alive is because a lot of people stayed above ground and got used to life without a sun while she slithered her way into our buildings until we had to seal them and probably killing her…
Read by Marh. 10:40:26
——My mom told me her house was broken into by R’ilre…
Read by Aprret. 10:40:27
——-What?!
Read by Marh. 10:40:28
——-Yeah. She told me she used to live in this small apartment with her grandmother and they had this tiny crawl-space that doubled as a cold-pantry and one day my mom went down there to get some food and found her there. Her eyes glowing in the dark and my mom stood still and R’ilre approached her and said she smelt nice, and that she wished more people smelled nice. My mom screamed and her grandmother lifted her out and called the council. People started to store their food above ground after that.
Marh is typing…
——-Hey Pret…I’m kinda scared now, can we pick another topic…
Read by Appret. 10:40:29.
——Yeah…I think I’m going to have nightmares for a while. I’ll talk to Miss Flin tomorrow and get a new topic.
(And there you have another finished, quick flash fiction piece. Try as I might, I cannot resist the urge to make them spooky.)
