Destruction's Aftermath: 1
He walked through the ashes. Sundered husks of men and women lay before him. Twisted into all sorts of ungodly positions, as if they were a part of a giant tableau.
He glanced up at the sky.
Maybe they were. He surveyed the carnage about him, eyes lighting up with glee. The lone man raised his arms in supplication to whoever or whatever had granted him this power, and basked in the glow of the thousand fires even now burning around him.
The city was in ruins. Everywhere lay burnt-out cars, bikes and the occasional Hummer or tank. Even the army had failed to stop him. Empty casings lay near the bodies of soldiers. He picked up a grenade, pulled the pin and tossed it into the air. The explosion felt like a warm breeze, the shrapnel bouncing off him like ripples off a stone. Behind him, he heard a sharp cry. He hadn't been as thorough as he had thought. With a wave of his hand, he summoned an ethereal cloud of energy to his hands, then thought better of it. He wanted to deal with the survivor himself.
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She lay there on the ground. When the attack had come, all those around her had been hit. She remembered the person running next to her had caught fire, burning slowly. He had struggled for a while, until the second wave came. She, on the other hand, had miraculously survived both waves. She had been knocked down on the first wave, and the second missed her by inches, the heat searing her skin. But now, strangely, she was all right. She was cut and bruised all over, but there were no serious injuries. She picked herself up and walked a few steps before stumbling over a piece of rubble. She cried out in surprise and pain. The large chunk had left a gash in her calf. She wrapped her hands around the gash reflexively, and was surprised to find that the bleeding had slowed greatly. Curious, she removed her hands. Right before her eyes, the wound sewed itself up. The two halves moved back together, coming closer with each passing second, until they touched. At that, the line that still seperated them shrank, millimeter by millimeter, until it was gone.
It was then that she noticed him towering over her.
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He was angry. He had not expected this. Nobody stood a chance against his powers. Nobody! Yet, this sixteen-ish girl had. A teenager, and a girl! Before she could move, he grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the ground. He raised one hand up in the air, opening it as if to receive something. He muttered a few lines, and a wispy knife coalesced. He made a few swings, and then drew the edge across his palm. Blood leaked, but only for a moment.
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She took one look at the man who held her down. She shuddered, not out of fear, but from the instinctive knowledge that the man held immense, evil power. The knife he held gave out more of that same energy, and it chilled her. Strangely, she did not fear death. Many around her had died, and she supposed she was in shock. She did not scream, even when she saw him place the knife under her left breast. She did not scream, even when the man said something in a language which she could not understand, and the knife gave out even more of that dreadful chill. And she did not scream as the knife drove into her body, slowly, inch by inch.
She did not feel pain. The dread chill of the knife spread as it went deeper and deeper, crawling towards her heart at a snail's pace, but it did not hurt. It finally pierced through. She could feel the slight resistance the muscle gave before the cold blade broke through. She felt no pain, but her body spasmed. She watched, detached, as the icy cold spread, causing her body to twitch. She watched as her body writhed on the ground in its death throes, bucking and twisting to escape the knife. Then, she heard a scream, which she assumed to be hers. Out from a few feet above her own body, she saw the man get up and walk away, after her body had stopped struggling. She saw the knife dissolve.
Then, her view suddenly changed. She was staring up at the sky. And she was in incredible pain. Her body, strangely, remained still. She felt the hole in her heart, as the chill wind blew over it. Then, she felt the chill recede. It went upwards and outwards, until she could feel it no more. Her chest suddenly began to thud. She suddenly found herself able to gasp with the pain. Even that pain soon faded into a mere shadow. The man was by now very far away, his shadow fading into the horizon.
It took her a while before she could sit up. Looking down at her chest, she saw no trace of a wound.
There she stood, one young girl amidst the chaos and destruction. And miraculously, she was alive.
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This is a little story I'm trying.
He glanced up at the sky.
Maybe they were. He surveyed the carnage about him, eyes lighting up with glee. The lone man raised his arms in supplication to whoever or whatever had granted him this power, and basked in the glow of the thousand fires even now burning around him.
The city was in ruins. Everywhere lay burnt-out cars, bikes and the occasional Hummer or tank. Even the army had failed to stop him. Empty casings lay near the bodies of soldiers. He picked up a grenade, pulled the pin and tossed it into the air. The explosion felt like a warm breeze, the shrapnel bouncing off him like ripples off a stone. Behind him, he heard a sharp cry. He hadn't been as thorough as he had thought. With a wave of his hand, he summoned an ethereal cloud of energy to his hands, then thought better of it. He wanted to deal with the survivor himself.
-------------
She lay there on the ground. When the attack had come, all those around her had been hit. She remembered the person running next to her had caught fire, burning slowly. He had struggled for a while, until the second wave came. She, on the other hand, had miraculously survived both waves. She had been knocked down on the first wave, and the second missed her by inches, the heat searing her skin. But now, strangely, she was all right. She was cut and bruised all over, but there were no serious injuries. She picked herself up and walked a few steps before stumbling over a piece of rubble. She cried out in surprise and pain. The large chunk had left a gash in her calf. She wrapped her hands around the gash reflexively, and was surprised to find that the bleeding had slowed greatly. Curious, she removed her hands. Right before her eyes, the wound sewed itself up. The two halves moved back together, coming closer with each passing second, until they touched. At that, the line that still seperated them shrank, millimeter by millimeter, until it was gone.
It was then that she noticed him towering over her.
-------------
He was angry. He had not expected this. Nobody stood a chance against his powers. Nobody! Yet, this sixteen-ish girl had. A teenager, and a girl! Before she could move, he grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the ground. He raised one hand up in the air, opening it as if to receive something. He muttered a few lines, and a wispy knife coalesced. He made a few swings, and then drew the edge across his palm. Blood leaked, but only for a moment.
-------------
She took one look at the man who held her down. She shuddered, not out of fear, but from the instinctive knowledge that the man held immense, evil power. The knife he held gave out more of that same energy, and it chilled her. Strangely, she did not fear death. Many around her had died, and she supposed she was in shock. She did not scream, even when she saw him place the knife under her left breast. She did not scream, even when the man said something in a language which she could not understand, and the knife gave out even more of that dreadful chill. And she did not scream as the knife drove into her body, slowly, inch by inch.
She did not feel pain. The dread chill of the knife spread as it went deeper and deeper, crawling towards her heart at a snail's pace, but it did not hurt. It finally pierced through. She could feel the slight resistance the muscle gave before the cold blade broke through. She felt no pain, but her body spasmed. She watched, detached, as the icy cold spread, causing her body to twitch. She watched as her body writhed on the ground in its death throes, bucking and twisting to escape the knife. Then, she heard a scream, which she assumed to be hers. Out from a few feet above her own body, she saw the man get up and walk away, after her body had stopped struggling. She saw the knife dissolve.
Then, her view suddenly changed. She was staring up at the sky. And she was in incredible pain. Her body, strangely, remained still. She felt the hole in her heart, as the chill wind blew over it. Then, she felt the chill recede. It went upwards and outwards, until she could feel it no more. Her chest suddenly began to thud. She suddenly found herself able to gasp with the pain. Even that pain soon faded into a mere shadow. The man was by now very far away, his shadow fading into the horizon.
It took her a while before she could sit up. Looking down at her chest, she saw no trace of a wound.
There she stood, one young girl amidst the chaos and destruction. And miraculously, she was alive.
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This is a little story I'm trying.
Labels: Destruction's Aftermath
posted by b.u.r.n at
12:27 AM
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