Post by faithless on Jul 16, 2009 20:32:13 GMT -5
Chapter 1
Most of you will never know what its like to live like this. The only bed you know existing is a rock. The only food is the rotting carcass of what used to be a diseased, mutated animal. No roof to keep the burning rain, acidic from over pollution and chemical wastes off of you. No walls to keep dust and sand and dirt from nearly burying you alive when you tried to sleep. Most of you will never know what its like, to live with nothing.
But Jacob knows. Jacob knows what its like to have to steal to survive a few more hours. He knows what its like to risk death just to keep living. He knows what its like to live in a constant state of pain. A constant state of desperation. Of fear. Fear of not finding any food today. Scared of being killed in his sleep by a wild animal, or another human. He knows what its like to be looked at with greedy eyes, and see the same greed in his reflection. He knows what its like to live in a world that most of us could only imagine.
But Jacob is not alone. There are thousands of people such as Jacob, stranded in the wasteland that used to be civilization, that used to be a country full of wealth, order, and power. Jacobs sister was one of them. She's dead now. Jacob tried to help her. He tried to share the food he found that was barely more than crumbs. He tried carry her when his body could even barely lift itself, their tattered clothes blown around in the dusty wing, straining against their skeletal bodies. They knew what its like to have to fight to survive.
Some of these people have even survived long enough to remember that there were such a thing as swimming pools. That there were such things as shopping malls and sky scrapers, that buildings weren't always faceless, haunting ruins. They remember that there was such a thing called peace. Jacob was one of them. He remembered order, he remembered honesty and he remembered freedom. He also remembers how they disappeared, thought he does not remember why.
This land used to be beautiful. Green forests full of animals, clear lakes full of fish. Farms and mines scattered across a country side so vast you'd think it went on forever. Cities of steel and glass, threatening to pierce the deep blue sky. People used to look at this land and feel a sense of pride felt and shared throughout history. Until the war.
To most, war was something you read about in history books or watched in fictional movies on TV. But that illusion only lasts until you see soldiers marching through your streets. Some tried to escape it, abandoning their homes and most of their belongings to run somewhere they thought was safe. Some figured it would be over before it ever reached them. Others thought that they had to help, volunteering to do what they could. In the end, most died.
Giant metal constructs creeping low across the ground, or sleek air craft gliding through the fiery skies. Machines designed with the sole purpose of destruction, crushing lives beneath their mass and raining death in their wake. The worst was yet to come. The front lines seemed to draw ever close to the heart of their glorious land, and its leaders were too proud to ever give it up to any other people. They swore to never surrender and to fight until every last drop of blood had been spilled for their country. That they would rather see it destroyed than in the hands of the enemy. Destroy it they did.
Using the energy of the atom, they halted the enemy advance. Bombs with the power to erase cities were dropped by the thousands, burning the forests and vaporizing the lakes. Very few survived, locked away deep within the Earth. They stayed there, the last remnants of a proud people, while their lands were scorched in atomic fire. When the last of the flames did die down, and the sheltered did emerge from the bunkers, they looked upon the wasteland that is now with shame.
Some forests survived, if you could call it surviving. Everything had changed, deforming, mutating, and evolving into things thought impossible. Living masses of writhing roots and vines, animals that bonded together or changed into savage beasts, driven mad by their mutations. This was a world of chaos; a man made chaos. Jacob and his sister were some of the few to crawl from those shelters into this new world. Some of the first to learn what horrors may befall those that toy with such powers so divine. Most set out to rebuild their home, some lost heart and walked into the abyss, accepting death with open arms. Some saw opportunity in this new land. Opportunity for power, control, wealth.This is how Jacob lives. Tired, hungry, alone, and lost in a world of misbegotten nature.
Chapter 2
Here stands Jacob now, to his back the scorching sun, and to his front a weathered crumbling wall. To either side of him is lined others of those unfortunate enough to get caught trying to scavenge in the shattered frame of what used to be a city. This wasn't a free city, as the men standing behind the sentenced, armed with weapons of all kinds, so claim. This was their city, their homes, their little part of sanity, and people like Jacob had thought to steal from it. Sweat covered Jacob's body where the rags of his clothes did not. Sweat from the sun, sweat from the chase, and sweat from the fear. Any moment they'll get the word, the word to open fire, to slaughter these thieves, these good for nothing bodies that would dare seek to sustain themselves another hour. At any moment, Jacob would be set free of this most cruelest of jokes and join his sister in death. At any moment, he would die.
Standing here, facing this wall, Jacob resigned himself. No more, he whispered in his mind. No more. He doesn't care about this twisted has-been planet, he doesn't care for its twisted has-been people, he doesn't care about their twisted selfish beliefs. He just wants out. He fell to his knees, tired of standing, tired of living, tired of caring. He heard some feet shuffling behind him, before one of them voiced themselves crudely.
"Hey, you, get the fuck back up on your feet." Or what? Jacob thought. There is nothing they can do to me. Jacob crawled slowly toward the wall, resting his head against it, while the footsteps came closer, until they were nearly behind him and stopped. "Hey, i told you to get THE FUCK BACK ON YOUR FEET!" the man shouted, spit flying from his dry lips, mixing with the perspiration on Jacobs back. Jacob didn't care, he closed his eyes, listening as the man behind him fiddled with he action of a rifle. Any moment, this will be over. Any moment he'll finally be free. His breathing quickened with anticipation. He wanted to be shot, he wanted to die, he wanted to leave this rotting world with his rotting corpse. Jacob could hear the creak of the mans leather glove against the trigger as he pulled it, time seemed to infinitely slow as he felt each moments pulse. He felt the wind as it slowly crept across his skin. He felt the suns rays pierce the air, reaching for his flesh, the heat clawing at his will. At any moment, he'll be free.
A single shot rang out in the small gathering, but it was not the shot that Jacob was begging for. This shot was not followed by a bullet penetrating Jacobs body, but instead by that bullet hitting the man that stood behind him, ending its travel in the wall, immediately beside where Jacob had laid his head. He glanced over at it, a ruined bit of metal lodged inside a ruined bit of stone, as the man that was behind him fell lifeless, his rifle clattering to the ground.
The others that had held the line of prisoners soon turned away, wondering who had fired the shot that so claimed their brother, but their shuffles were soon overpowered by those of the people that had stood next to him, as they turned and ran in random directions, seeking escape. Escape from what? escape to where? wherever they might run, and wherever they might hide they will always be within deaths shadow. There is no escape from this. more shots were fired and more shouts were made, Jacob rolled over, his back against the wall, its roughness scratching his flesh, tearing at his back while the walls warmth burned with a furiousness even greater than the sun. He watched the chaos around him. There were three parties in this event, those that sought to escape, those that sought to survive, and those that sought to control.
Those that sought to escape gave little thought to anything other than fleeing. There were no bonds to hold them together, and no goal other than to survive, and it was strange none thought to pick up the fallen's rifle, laying on the ground a couple inches beyond Jacobs foot, and a couple inches in front of the dead mans face, his eyes staring at him, a pool of blood forming from a wound Jacob never cared to locate. He was fixated on the mans eyes. Don't look at me like that, he thought. Were it up to me I'd of gladly taken your place amongst the dead.
Those that sought to survive were the ones that had made the first shot, no doubt raiders looking to take whatever food and supplies might be stashed here. Another bullet impacted the wall, again very near Jacob's head. Stop teasing me, he thought. I'm just sitting right here, take me already. His eyes shifted form the dead, to those about to be. They struck at each other with all sorts of makeshift weapons, and were protected from blows by the same sort of makeshift armors. Jacob reached forward, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and dragged it toward himself. If death seems so reluctant to visit him, he'll go to death.
Those that sought to control were perhaps the most deluded. This world could never be brought to kneel before any power lesser than what had forged it. This battle was proof of their misguided efforts, as man shed the blood of fellow man. he stood the rifle up, examining it. He remembered this exact rifle from the posters and the films, and in the hands of men trying to protect their lands. It was in near perfect condition, its owner must have been a soldier. Jacob put his thumb on the trigger and placed the muzzle in his mouth, and without time enough to think had pressed the trigger, letting lose the firing pin inside to at last deliver him a sweet demise.
The delivery, however, was incomplete. while there most certainly was a click, there was no satisfying boom. Jacob's other hand grabbed the charging handle, cycling the action slowly. he watched the ejected bullet fly brilliantly through the air, the sun reflecting off its gleaming surface. Once more, Jacob thought, staring down the barrel of the rifle and pulling the trigger. is efforts were to no avail however as once again, the cartridge refused to fire. Furiously Jacob cycled it again, this time shouldering the rifle, and aiming at whoever was unfortunate enough to be within his range. He squeezed the trigger and as if the rifle could feel its masters intent, it fired.
Jacob was not amused. Foolish contraption, how dare you deny me your death-delivering abilities but so freely share them amongst others. What makes them so deserving of your attentions and leave me neglected? Fair enough, you devilish entity, I'll play your game. I'll carry you until you find me worth of your gift, I'll live until my life is ripped from my hands. I'll fight with you until we come across a being we cannot fell, a fortress we cannot breach, a life we cannot steal. Fair enough, you twisted spirit. I'll bear you like the curse you are.
Most of you will never know what its like to live like this. The only bed you know existing is a rock. The only food is the rotting carcass of what used to be a diseased, mutated animal. No roof to keep the burning rain, acidic from over pollution and chemical wastes off of you. No walls to keep dust and sand and dirt from nearly burying you alive when you tried to sleep. Most of you will never know what its like, to live with nothing.
But Jacob knows. Jacob knows what its like to have to steal to survive a few more hours. He knows what its like to risk death just to keep living. He knows what its like to live in a constant state of pain. A constant state of desperation. Of fear. Fear of not finding any food today. Scared of being killed in his sleep by a wild animal, or another human. He knows what its like to be looked at with greedy eyes, and see the same greed in his reflection. He knows what its like to live in a world that most of us could only imagine.
But Jacob is not alone. There are thousands of people such as Jacob, stranded in the wasteland that used to be civilization, that used to be a country full of wealth, order, and power. Jacobs sister was one of them. She's dead now. Jacob tried to help her. He tried to share the food he found that was barely more than crumbs. He tried carry her when his body could even barely lift itself, their tattered clothes blown around in the dusty wing, straining against their skeletal bodies. They knew what its like to have to fight to survive.
Some of these people have even survived long enough to remember that there were such a thing as swimming pools. That there were such things as shopping malls and sky scrapers, that buildings weren't always faceless, haunting ruins. They remember that there was such a thing called peace. Jacob was one of them. He remembered order, he remembered honesty and he remembered freedom. He also remembers how they disappeared, thought he does not remember why.
This land used to be beautiful. Green forests full of animals, clear lakes full of fish. Farms and mines scattered across a country side so vast you'd think it went on forever. Cities of steel and glass, threatening to pierce the deep blue sky. People used to look at this land and feel a sense of pride felt and shared throughout history. Until the war.
To most, war was something you read about in history books or watched in fictional movies on TV. But that illusion only lasts until you see soldiers marching through your streets. Some tried to escape it, abandoning their homes and most of their belongings to run somewhere they thought was safe. Some figured it would be over before it ever reached them. Others thought that they had to help, volunteering to do what they could. In the end, most died.
Giant metal constructs creeping low across the ground, or sleek air craft gliding through the fiery skies. Machines designed with the sole purpose of destruction, crushing lives beneath their mass and raining death in their wake. The worst was yet to come. The front lines seemed to draw ever close to the heart of their glorious land, and its leaders were too proud to ever give it up to any other people. They swore to never surrender and to fight until every last drop of blood had been spilled for their country. That they would rather see it destroyed than in the hands of the enemy. Destroy it they did.
Using the energy of the atom, they halted the enemy advance. Bombs with the power to erase cities were dropped by the thousands, burning the forests and vaporizing the lakes. Very few survived, locked away deep within the Earth. They stayed there, the last remnants of a proud people, while their lands were scorched in atomic fire. When the last of the flames did die down, and the sheltered did emerge from the bunkers, they looked upon the wasteland that is now with shame.
Some forests survived, if you could call it surviving. Everything had changed, deforming, mutating, and evolving into things thought impossible. Living masses of writhing roots and vines, animals that bonded together or changed into savage beasts, driven mad by their mutations. This was a world of chaos; a man made chaos. Jacob and his sister were some of the few to crawl from those shelters into this new world. Some of the first to learn what horrors may befall those that toy with such powers so divine. Most set out to rebuild their home, some lost heart and walked into the abyss, accepting death with open arms. Some saw opportunity in this new land. Opportunity for power, control, wealth.This is how Jacob lives. Tired, hungry, alone, and lost in a world of misbegotten nature.
Chapter 2
Here stands Jacob now, to his back the scorching sun, and to his front a weathered crumbling wall. To either side of him is lined others of those unfortunate enough to get caught trying to scavenge in the shattered frame of what used to be a city. This wasn't a free city, as the men standing behind the sentenced, armed with weapons of all kinds, so claim. This was their city, their homes, their little part of sanity, and people like Jacob had thought to steal from it. Sweat covered Jacob's body where the rags of his clothes did not. Sweat from the sun, sweat from the chase, and sweat from the fear. Any moment they'll get the word, the word to open fire, to slaughter these thieves, these good for nothing bodies that would dare seek to sustain themselves another hour. At any moment, Jacob would be set free of this most cruelest of jokes and join his sister in death. At any moment, he would die.
Standing here, facing this wall, Jacob resigned himself. No more, he whispered in his mind. No more. He doesn't care about this twisted has-been planet, he doesn't care for its twisted has-been people, he doesn't care about their twisted selfish beliefs. He just wants out. He fell to his knees, tired of standing, tired of living, tired of caring. He heard some feet shuffling behind him, before one of them voiced themselves crudely.
"Hey, you, get the fuck back up on your feet." Or what? Jacob thought. There is nothing they can do to me. Jacob crawled slowly toward the wall, resting his head against it, while the footsteps came closer, until they were nearly behind him and stopped. "Hey, i told you to get THE FUCK BACK ON YOUR FEET!" the man shouted, spit flying from his dry lips, mixing with the perspiration on Jacobs back. Jacob didn't care, he closed his eyes, listening as the man behind him fiddled with he action of a rifle. Any moment, this will be over. Any moment he'll finally be free. His breathing quickened with anticipation. He wanted to be shot, he wanted to die, he wanted to leave this rotting world with his rotting corpse. Jacob could hear the creak of the mans leather glove against the trigger as he pulled it, time seemed to infinitely slow as he felt each moments pulse. He felt the wind as it slowly crept across his skin. He felt the suns rays pierce the air, reaching for his flesh, the heat clawing at his will. At any moment, he'll be free.
A single shot rang out in the small gathering, but it was not the shot that Jacob was begging for. This shot was not followed by a bullet penetrating Jacobs body, but instead by that bullet hitting the man that stood behind him, ending its travel in the wall, immediately beside where Jacob had laid his head. He glanced over at it, a ruined bit of metal lodged inside a ruined bit of stone, as the man that was behind him fell lifeless, his rifle clattering to the ground.
The others that had held the line of prisoners soon turned away, wondering who had fired the shot that so claimed their brother, but their shuffles were soon overpowered by those of the people that had stood next to him, as they turned and ran in random directions, seeking escape. Escape from what? escape to where? wherever they might run, and wherever they might hide they will always be within deaths shadow. There is no escape from this. more shots were fired and more shouts were made, Jacob rolled over, his back against the wall, its roughness scratching his flesh, tearing at his back while the walls warmth burned with a furiousness even greater than the sun. He watched the chaos around him. There were three parties in this event, those that sought to escape, those that sought to survive, and those that sought to control.
Those that sought to escape gave little thought to anything other than fleeing. There were no bonds to hold them together, and no goal other than to survive, and it was strange none thought to pick up the fallen's rifle, laying on the ground a couple inches beyond Jacobs foot, and a couple inches in front of the dead mans face, his eyes staring at him, a pool of blood forming from a wound Jacob never cared to locate. He was fixated on the mans eyes. Don't look at me like that, he thought. Were it up to me I'd of gladly taken your place amongst the dead.
Those that sought to survive were the ones that had made the first shot, no doubt raiders looking to take whatever food and supplies might be stashed here. Another bullet impacted the wall, again very near Jacob's head. Stop teasing me, he thought. I'm just sitting right here, take me already. His eyes shifted form the dead, to those about to be. They struck at each other with all sorts of makeshift weapons, and were protected from blows by the same sort of makeshift armors. Jacob reached forward, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and dragged it toward himself. If death seems so reluctant to visit him, he'll go to death.
Those that sought to control were perhaps the most deluded. This world could never be brought to kneel before any power lesser than what had forged it. This battle was proof of their misguided efforts, as man shed the blood of fellow man. he stood the rifle up, examining it. He remembered this exact rifle from the posters and the films, and in the hands of men trying to protect their lands. It was in near perfect condition, its owner must have been a soldier. Jacob put his thumb on the trigger and placed the muzzle in his mouth, and without time enough to think had pressed the trigger, letting lose the firing pin inside to at last deliver him a sweet demise.
The delivery, however, was incomplete. while there most certainly was a click, there was no satisfying boom. Jacob's other hand grabbed the charging handle, cycling the action slowly. he watched the ejected bullet fly brilliantly through the air, the sun reflecting off its gleaming surface. Once more, Jacob thought, staring down the barrel of the rifle and pulling the trigger. is efforts were to no avail however as once again, the cartridge refused to fire. Furiously Jacob cycled it again, this time shouldering the rifle, and aiming at whoever was unfortunate enough to be within his range. He squeezed the trigger and as if the rifle could feel its masters intent, it fired.
Jacob was not amused. Foolish contraption, how dare you deny me your death-delivering abilities but so freely share them amongst others. What makes them so deserving of your attentions and leave me neglected? Fair enough, you devilish entity, I'll play your game. I'll carry you until you find me worth of your gift, I'll live until my life is ripped from my hands. I'll fight with you until we come across a being we cannot fell, a fortress we cannot breach, a life we cannot steal. Fair enough, you twisted spirit. I'll bear you like the curse you are.
My point being, this sort of story would gain a great deal more power... more umph if you will, if it was something that sounded plausible factually and scientifically. It's easier to dismiss a story about unicorns and dragons than it is to dismiss something like a futuristic apocalypse. This story sounds to me like it could easily be up to par with things like Handmaid's Tale or Fahrenheit 451... a harsh examination of the darker side of humanity, beyond heroism and chivalry. All it needs is the plausibility... the thing that will give it that shock factor and make readers think with a shiver down their spine, "This could really happen".