|Out of the Fire
Author: TheBlazingOptimist PM
Mastema was born into a apocolyptic world where death greeted her at every turn, but she had the soul of a survivor, and would never give up. One-shot originally written for a writing class, please read and review!Rated: Fiction T - English - Family/Drama - Words: 634 - Published: 11-29-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3078570
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I've never been heralded as an average girl, but then again, why should I have been? It's not like I was ever brought up to live an average lifestyle.
My birthplace was so desolate that it didn't even have a proper name, so we called it Dystopia, just like all the other citizens of all the other provinces had. Besides, there was no reason for it to stand out. After the beating it had took during all the wars, the battles, and the endless screams of pain that filled the air and drove others to madness, we all knew we'd like most if it just sunk away into the abyss.
Despite this, once I was grown, my parents released me into the world, along with my brothers and sisters. They stayed, as the centuries-old protocol had told.
As we had been instructed to, by the same set of rules, we formed a sibling alliance. But, in this world, so hopeless, so isolated, so desperately Satanic in structure, they fell, one by one.
I remember well how I grieved when my youngest sister Lilith was taken. I screamed and cried and was inconsolable for days, but the night after, I had an epiphany of sorts.
Why exert so much time and effort mourning, when there are better ways to go about life in general?
The next morning, the middle brother Fenris fell. I could see it disturbed my bawling siblings when I simply stood, emotionless, before moving on.
I maintained this composure, even to the second when my youngest brother Milcom, passed. He was the last, and the look in his eyes will stay with me forever. He said to me with his dying breath: "Massie…"
"My name is Mastema." I corrected coldly. As far as I was concerned, we weren't on friendly terms any more. We were comrades.
"M-Mastema…I want to ask you a question."
I nodded without speaking, showing my approval.
"Why have you changed? I know you have."
What he said was true; I had cut my hair, and, using the ash, turned it black. My clothes had been fashioned out of rubble and rags, and we already know about my personality.
"It's better for me." I answered, unwaveringly strong. "For everyone."
He opened his mouth to speak again, but I motioned for him to close it, as I saw the lava creeping closer to him. In a few seconds, his words would be useless.
"Just breathe. It'll be over soon."
I found comfort in seeing that my words seemed to calm him.
Breaking character for just a moment, I turned away as the lava crept over him.
"Seeya, little bro."
And then he was gone.
And I was alone.
For a brief moment, it drew m to insanity, which I hadn't felt since the day Lilith had died.
But I managed to move on. I knew that I did best when other people weren't holding me back.
I trekked around, not particularly looking to find anyone, or anything. Even if I did find some undiscovered sweet spot that somehow hadn't been touched by the destruction, even if I did by chance find a person, curled up in a ball, completely unharmed, I doubted my ability to start a revolution with them without one crushing the other.
The fires were blazing, jumping higher and higher.
There were, and still are, screams of long gone citizens haunting the air.
Every so often, I'd put my life on the line against a vicious hellbeast.
But I survived every time.
I was an outcast, for the way I acted. I was the first to face other peoples' death with a smile, and I'll be damned if I don't face my own demise the very same way.
You never know…it may be a lot of fun.