Chapter 3 - Part 3 - Banishment
Submitted August 14, 2007 Updated October 19, 2007 Status Complete | i was divinely ( or should i say, abyssmally) inspired to write this, as a game, picture, song, vidoe clip and people i know all merged to create this story, just started it so may take a while to finish, any comments welcome
Category:
Fantasy » Misc. Fantasy |
Chapter 3 - Part 3 - Banishment
Chapter 3 - Part 3 - Banishment
Part 3 Banishment
We sat, among the rubble of what looked like a playground, and that was all we did for a long time; sat. Only once we had both dealt with our own personal despair, were we able to connect. It began by the two of us simply holding each other in our arms. I had desperately needed the human contact, if you could call it that. And she seemed to share the sentiment. As we sat there, a small blossom of hope began to grow, deep within me. I did not dare let it grow any larger, as at that time, I did not think my soul could deal with any more suffering, should the hope turn out false. Perhaps there were others left, others who had survived. I spoke for the first time in this new world, my voice strangely loud in the whirling air. I voiced my hopes to her, as we sat in each others arms, and thankfully, she shared my thoughts.
I stopped talking, letting the small blossom of hope grow ever so slightly. To my surprise and hers too, before us, a small, white rose began to grow. It grew as if viewed in fast forward, fully flowering in a matter of about a minute. Time froze for the rose there, staying in full bloom. The stem was very gnarled and thorny, looking very much like a wild rose. I stared at it for a long while, wondering how it came into existence in such a bleak and desolate wasteland. Returning from my reflection, I saw her clawed hand reach forward and pluck the single rose from the ground, twirling it slowly in her fingers. She then began to shred the petals with her claws, making sure that every one was torn and ruined. She then snapped the brittle stem into many little pieces and threw them to the wind, which scattered them some twenty metres away.
I sat and stared at her in shock, only to receive the full anger of her glare. The vehemence of those eyes made me release her and shuffle a few feet away. I demanded to know why she ruined such a beautiful thing when it had only just grown. She hissed at me and then informed me of the injustice and indignity of the rose growing before them. According to her, that flower had no right to grow here, be beautiful and perfect, as if to mock our current state and the world around us. I was not sure I understood where all her anger and cynicism was coming from but I did not argue with her. Partially because I almost understood what she said, but also, I was slightly ashamed to admit, I was terrified of her anger and the twinges of insanity that danced in her eyes.
Deciding to put the incident behind me, I suggested we find higher ground so as to see if we could find shelter, or at least look for other forms of life. She did not lecture me again, but her eyes still blazed. We walked, for a long time, or at least I think it was long, time remained skewed. We reached the top of what would have been a shopping centre, if my sense of direction remained true. We stood at the top of one end of it, looking outwards over the wasteland around us. There were still the remains of some of the sturdier building to be seen, although none had more than half a house. As we stared out over the vast expanse, I noticed that not all of this shopping centre (my sense of direction was with me yet) had collapsed in. Here and there, there were small pockets or holes, which rubble had not filled. I pointed some of these out to her, and we agreed that these would be as good a starting place as any, if we were to find anyone or anything else.
As we began our descent down one of the collapsed sides of the centre, holding hands to help avoid accidents, a cone of piercing white light began to break through the murky red-black clouds behind us. She noticed it first and pointed it out to me, causing me to stop to look. As we stood and stared at the light, a figure began to materialize within it. The figure at first looked like an opposite of my present appearance. He, if it was a he, too had wings, except his were the pure white I had expected mine to be. He also wore a shining suit of gold-washed chain mail, which covered every ounce of his skin and may have covered his face, but it was impossible to tell with the blinding light around him. He slowly floated downwards towards the roof of the shopping center, coming to a halt a few inches away from the ground. He simply stood, or floated, there, apparently watching us as we stared back. Even then, for some obscure reason, his face remained a blur of white light. We all stood there, watching each other.
Again the anger and insanity surfaced.
She flung herself at the shining figure, her claws aiming, presumably for his throat. Realizing the futileness of her actions, and curious about this outsider, I threw my arms around her waist, cutting her attack short so that she clawed empty air. Those claws almost swung back in my direction before she regained some sanity and realized it was me holding her back. Once I was sure she had calmed down, I released her and once more spoke, my voice again sounding louder then intended in the open air. I politely asked the figure for his (or her) name, for something about him seemed to demand respect. He oddly tilted his head to the side, as if he did not understand the question. I repeated it more slowly, but he showed no reaction at all the second time. We just stood there, watching each other, and it was during this time I realized that the howling wind had stopped, and the world around us became still.
The figure then straightened his neck and I was hit by a wave of emotion, of disgust, with just a hint of sorrow, radiating from him. I was also filled with the greatest sense that I should be ashamed of whom I was and everything I had ever thought, said or done. I came to believe this figure communicated through emotions, as it simply shook its head then distinctly turned his back on us before slowly floating upwards towards the clouds, quickly disappearing from sight, as did all remnants of the white light. This was not the last time we saw the figure, and every time we met in the future, no words were ever exchanged.
It was then a single white feather fell to the earth before us.
The world seemed to unfreeze around us, the howling wind quickly returning. Not for the last time I questioned the effects of the cataclysm on her sanity, for then she bent over and slowly picked up the feather. Expecting another outburst of rage, I took several steps back. But to my surprise, and relief, she simply stood and put the feather within what remained of her jacket, presumably for safe keeping. I stepped back closer to her and embraced her, as she was looking like, well, a lost kitten. We both stood there for a long time, both contemplating all that had happened.
It would seem we had both been judged, and were now suffering the consequences.
We sat, among the rubble of what looked like a playground, and that was all we did for a long time; sat. Only once we had both dealt with our own personal despair, were we able to connect. It began by the two of us simply holding each other in our arms. I had desperately needed the human contact, if you could call it that. And she seemed to share the sentiment. As we sat there, a small blossom of hope began to grow, deep within me. I did not dare let it grow any larger, as at that time, I did not think my soul could deal with any more suffering, should the hope turn out false. Perhaps there were others left, others who had survived. I spoke for the first time in this new world, my voice strangely loud in the whirling air. I voiced my hopes to her, as we sat in each others arms, and thankfully, she shared my thoughts.
I stopped talking, letting the small blossom of hope grow ever so slightly. To my surprise and hers too, before us, a small, white rose began to grow. It grew as if viewed in fast forward, fully flowering in a matter of about a minute. Time froze for the rose there, staying in full bloom. The stem was very gnarled and thorny, looking very much like a wild rose. I stared at it for a long while, wondering how it came into existence in such a bleak and desolate wasteland. Returning from my reflection, I saw her clawed hand reach forward and pluck the single rose from the ground, twirling it slowly in her fingers. She then began to shred the petals with her claws, making sure that every one was torn and ruined. She then snapped the brittle stem into many little pieces and threw them to the wind, which scattered them some twenty metres away.
I sat and stared at her in shock, only to receive the full anger of her glare. The vehemence of those eyes made me release her and shuffle a few feet away. I demanded to know why she ruined such a beautiful thing when it had only just grown. She hissed at me and then informed me of the injustice and indignity of the rose growing before them. According to her, that flower had no right to grow here, be beautiful and perfect, as if to mock our current state and the world around us. I was not sure I understood where all her anger and cynicism was coming from but I did not argue with her. Partially because I almost understood what she said, but also, I was slightly ashamed to admit, I was terrified of her anger and the twinges of insanity that danced in her eyes.
Deciding to put the incident behind me, I suggested we find higher ground so as to see if we could find shelter, or at least look for other forms of life. She did not lecture me again, but her eyes still blazed. We walked, for a long time, or at least I think it was long, time remained skewed. We reached the top of what would have been a shopping centre, if my sense of direction remained true. We stood at the top of one end of it, looking outwards over the wasteland around us. There were still the remains of some of the sturdier building to be seen, although none had more than half a house. As we stared out over the vast expanse, I noticed that not all of this shopping centre (my sense of direction was with me yet) had collapsed in. Here and there, there were small pockets or holes, which rubble had not filled. I pointed some of these out to her, and we agreed that these would be as good a starting place as any, if we were to find anyone or anything else.
As we began our descent down one of the collapsed sides of the centre, holding hands to help avoid accidents, a cone of piercing white light began to break through the murky red-black clouds behind us. She noticed it first and pointed it out to me, causing me to stop to look. As we stood and stared at the light, a figure began to materialize within it. The figure at first looked like an opposite of my present appearance. He, if it was a he, too had wings, except his were the pure white I had expected mine to be. He also wore a shining suit of gold-washed chain mail, which covered every ounce of his skin and may have covered his face, but it was impossible to tell with the blinding light around him. He slowly floated downwards towards the roof of the shopping center, coming to a halt a few inches away from the ground. He simply stood, or floated, there, apparently watching us as we stared back. Even then, for some obscure reason, his face remained a blur of white light. We all stood there, watching each other.
Again the anger and insanity surfaced.
She flung herself at the shining figure, her claws aiming, presumably for his throat. Realizing the futileness of her actions, and curious about this outsider, I threw my arms around her waist, cutting her attack short so that she clawed empty air. Those claws almost swung back in my direction before she regained some sanity and realized it was me holding her back. Once I was sure she had calmed down, I released her and once more spoke, my voice again sounding louder then intended in the open air. I politely asked the figure for his (or her) name, for something about him seemed to demand respect. He oddly tilted his head to the side, as if he did not understand the question. I repeated it more slowly, but he showed no reaction at all the second time. We just stood there, watching each other, and it was during this time I realized that the howling wind had stopped, and the world around us became still.
The figure then straightened his neck and I was hit by a wave of emotion, of disgust, with just a hint of sorrow, radiating from him. I was also filled with the greatest sense that I should be ashamed of whom I was and everything I had ever thought, said or done. I came to believe this figure communicated through emotions, as it simply shook its head then distinctly turned his back on us before slowly floating upwards towards the clouds, quickly disappearing from sight, as did all remnants of the white light. This was not the last time we saw the figure, and every time we met in the future, no words were ever exchanged.
It was then a single white feather fell to the earth before us.
The world seemed to unfreeze around us, the howling wind quickly returning. Not for the last time I questioned the effects of the cataclysm on her sanity, for then she bent over and slowly picked up the feather. Expecting another outburst of rage, I took several steps back. But to my surprise, and relief, she simply stood and put the feather within what remained of her jacket, presumably for safe keeping. I stepped back closer to her and embraced her, as she was looking like, well, a lost kitten. We both stood there for a long time, both contemplating all that had happened.
It would seem we had both been judged, and were now suffering the consequences.
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