UNCLAIMED

NOTE: This was a short, random piece of fiction I wrote during the 2014 A to Z Challenge at The Cryton Chronicles. Feel free to check out it’s original posting here. Being it was specifically a fiction piece, I thought it made sense to also display it here as well.

Samantha — or Sammy as her parent’s called her by, despite the pleas against it — trudged down the hallway, each footstep lightly emphasized by a soft echo. Her head was hung low. The flowery sundress she wore swayed with her movements, now and again obscuring the view of her cute, pink-sparkling, princess shoes. They were brand new and she had begged her mother to purchase them solely for today’s event. To show them off. To show all the other six-year-olds that she was somebody too. That Samantha was important.

There was no need to pay attention to where she was going, she had been here before, and knew the layout of the house; where the bathroom was. Samantha drifted away in her thoughts, the muffled clamor of the birthday party being celebrated in the backyard fading. All the other children were playing games together. Ones that required you to have a partner. She was certain that with her new shoes and dress that someone would take notice. There was no way she would be the odd person out. Not this time.

AFTER ARMAGEDDON - 3 -

- Run -

In those first moments, when you came to learn the world was erupting in chaos, you couldn’t help but be stunned motionless. Nothing made sense, nothing seemed real. It was like watching a movie. Explosions, the Earth trembled from unseen forces. God was angry. You couldn’t help but watch it play out.

And then, people were running. Running and screaming.

For the better part of my adult life, I had always felt the inherit urgency to be prepared to run. It was nothing I could explain, beyond that. Just the knowledge that I had to be ready for something to come. That and that I was falling behind. Facts; they just simply were.

I don’t know what kind of source created such an intense base of knowing, but it was inaccurate. No amount of preparation could have conditioned myself, or anyone, for what was to come. That little voice in the back of my head was a little too optimistic; offering some semblance of hope. Had I known that it would have meant the difference between life and death, perhaps I would have taken it a little more seriously.

Like I said, though, nothing could have prepared you. Once the nightmare became a reality, the rest was tossed to the wind. It became a matter of luck.

And as everyone knows, Lady Luck can be a fickle bitch.

FIREFLIES

(A Flash Fiction)

Jer sat alone, on the stone bench, in the park. This late in the evening, it was devoid of life. She wasn’t coming. He knew this, because he hadn’t told her. But he wasn’t alone. He had someone, or something—or both—with him. He kept it in an imaginary, glass jar. One kept close to his heart; In his heart, he liked to believe. Intertwined.

A nameless firefly.

“Love,” he resolved, at that moment.

He raised a hand to his chest. Jer could feel it pulsing, glowing rhythmically with his heartbeat. Thump thump; a beacon shining through his soul. Dimmer now, though, than just hours before. Dying.

Love never belonged to him. It was her’s to give, not his to take. A lesson of grave importance: Love deserved to be free, not caged in fear. Free to explore, learn, and experience as it may.

He took a deep breath, reached inside, and slowly twisted the lid. Thump thump; the anticipation! Love knew what was to come.

A solitary tear streamed down Jer’s cheek, as Love burst forth from what it certainly thought its demise. He sat entranced, as Love exploded and split into millions of duplicate fireflies. Dancing, lighting the night sky, each pulsed and glowed in unison; to him, the Universe.

Connected. Beautiful.

Eyes closed, star-bound, he watched them surge around the world. Her Love, his Love—their Love—free to leave footprints where it may.

More tears flowed. His beacon to the infinite illuminated anew.

THE BLACK OMEN: BETRAYALS - PROLOGUE -

(A FFXI Fanfic)

- Beginnings -

When all is said and done, people still ask: Did we do the right thing? Was there more that we could have done? What if...

“What if...” That single phrase is capable of being the dismantling of one’s inner self; in the matter of a heartbeat. It is unavoidable. It lurks there in the darkest recesses of the mind, waiting. Yearning to be set free and let loose. To unleash its unstoppable, corrosive disease of guilt.

AFTER ARMAGEDDON - 2 -

- Countdown -

Immediately after the event–Armageddon as many refer to it as–all the worries of the past seemed pointless. Whatever hardships you faced, your loved ones faced, complete strangers faced seemed null and void. The world, and most everyone in it, was tossed into the same hellish shitstorm challenge; survival.

Not just in loose terms; getting by paycheck to paycheck, being homeless on the streets begging for money, food, and booze. Literal life and death survival. The world sprung into chaos, and everything you thought you knew no longer applied. The game had changed; a game everyone was forced to participate in.

AFTER ARMAGEDDON - 1 -

- They Came in the Day -

The world was already a cesspool of corruption, greed, and scum. Governments sending us overseas to fight in propagandic wars to fill the coffers of the already filthy rich. The freedom of the people systematically stripped in bits and pieces, under the radar when able; masked bills passed in the dead of night. Those who bothered to warn the people or fight for our rights as citizens were drowned out by the horrors taking place around the world. Always fear mongering; the true new epidemic. Though, not new at all. The fine art of controlling the masses with fear has been used by those in power as far back as can be remembered. Advancements in technology and media just made it all the easier.

The majority of the world was continually left in distraught, following commands blindly. The most fucked up part, I always thought, was while people were being forced to kill others that so many of the human race willingly did so of their own merit. Population control. Even now, after everything that occurred; so easily we turn on one another.

AFTER ARMAGEDDON - PROLOGUE

- Forsaken -

I am uncertain if someday this will be looked upon as actually shedding light on the transpiring of certain events. It’s hard to discern how society will view things years from now, decades from now; centuries from now. That is assuming there even exists a human civilization; someone alive for this to fall into the hands of.

Perhaps it will be uncovered thousands of years from now and be inadvertently worshiped as gospel. A testament to the creation, or death rather, of life and the world we knew as Earth.

Fuck, that would be hilarious. At this point, though, it wouldn’t surprise me. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit. Out of all the fucken bullshit our race has chosen to believe and worship, why not my ramblings? It has got to be more entertaining than a book.

AFTER ARMAGEDDON - PREFACE

- Never Forget -

They came in the night.

That’s how all of those fancy, mainstream horror novels seem to start. Dark and stormy. They are then turned into even fancier, over the top movies; a medium where part of our imagination dies, but other senses stimulated. Monstrosities, darker than the shadows they maneuver through, looming over their prey. Never seen, or heard, until it is already too late. You are lucky to get out a scream before you are shred to pieces, brutally mauled, or subjected to some other manner of sick, twisted macabre imagined. I was never much for horror films; I could barely stomach them, even knowing it was all fake. I believe now it would be a cakewalk. It is amazing how the mind can adapt.