Just a short quick prologue to get started. So Poison Ivy might be disturbing in some points, it might not, but there are many categories for this story. I hope you all enjoy this and want more!
The sun gave almost no light or faith to the vast land area. There were houses planted right next to each other, yet each one was severely damaged in one way or another. There were no trees growing, no plants except for the occasional weed sticking out of the cracked pavement. The wind blew a soft, uneasy breeze, believing someone will feel it, yet not a single soul was around that moment. It was rare to see a person, or a person with crystal eyes or chocolate ones to be specific. Yes, people were still around, but not the kind of people you'd expect.
The sun was setting, almost an end to another day. Again, a soft whistle from the wind but no reply or a comment like, "Oh, it's chilly," or, "The wind's picking up." It was dead silent in the abandoned town. A black sparrow landed on a broken pipe, and other's followed. Someone was coming.
A little boy's feet galloped across the damp soil below, into the town. He tried to remain as quiet as possible, but his deep breathing made it harder to do so. Was he scared? No, he was terrified. Because all this young child no older than seven could hope for was that every deep, ragged breath he took wouldn't be his last.
His eyes wide, scoping for danger, he crawled under the remains of a burnt house. His heart was racing at an amazing speed, and he swallowed with difficulty as he tried to squeeze himself under a broken three-legged table. He heard them coming, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. His breathing increased, and he closed his eyes as he heard footsteps.
A crack, smash, and a click. The boy believed it was a gun aimed at his face. He felt breathing on his bruised face. He bit his lip, expecting to die as he began to wonder, 'What's that special place my mommy told me about when you die? And you see a man and his son taking your hands?' He didn't want to die. He wasn't ready to leave the world, he's only seven! His heart pounded inside his chest like it was going to burst. Why didn't they just get it over with?
"Open your eyes," ordered a soft, feminine voice. So he did. And what he saw made him smile for the first time since he got lost from his mother. It was a little girl about the age of six. Her hair was light brown and curly, similar to his. Her left eye was bruised, and there was a small cut on her grinning lips. "You don't have purple eyes," she whispered. It was true, he had hazel. She had a mix of blue and green. "You don't either," the boy agreed.
"Have you seen my mommy?" the little girl said as her smile disappeared, "I lost her when we were being chased by the Villias. The boy cringed at the thought of the Villias. "No," he replied, but looked hopeful, "Have you seen mine? She has curly, blonde hair and wears a dress with roses on it." The little girl shook her head. Her eyes glanced down, and she rose to her feet. Slowly, she turned around and began to walk away. "No, wait!" the boy shouted a bit too loud. He pricked his ears and listened. The sound of multiple footsteps made his eyes widen. "Villias! Run!" he shouted. The little girl sprinted with the boy right behind her farther down the chipped road. The boy gazed behind him to find the shadows of soldiers walking right behind them like mind-controlled robots. He took a sudden turn to the right to the abandoned town hall.
"This way," he said to the little girl. She stopped and hesitated to follow him inside, but as she heard the Villias approach, she lunged right in. The boy was already halfway up the stairs. "Hurry! They're coming!" The boy rushed the girl. She followed him to a different staircase, but he went down the narrow hall past it instead, taking the route to get inside the staircase. He's been there before.
The area behind the stairs was tiny, not able to fit both of them. "Stay here, and be quiet," he ordered the little girl again as he draped a torn blanket over her. "But where will you hide?" she asked. The boy shushed and stifled a gasp as the doors smashed opened. The Villias were inside. He didn't have much time.
He tip-toed slowly out of the hiding spot and went up the different set of stairs. He raced down the hall, dashing into the third room to his right. An office. He tried the room next door. The ceiling was missing, but it had been a storage room. Perfect. He opened a random box, farther down to the back of the room and hopped inside. He covered himself with the dirty clothes insideand closed the lid.
Seconds seemed like hours, but the Villias were already on his floor. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. His eyes shot wide open. How could he relax at a time like this? Footsteps came into the room. "They're probably here," a monotoned voice suggested. The footsteps began to edge closer as he heard boxes being open. 'They're going to open my box,' he thought. The footsteps were even closer. 'They're going to find me,' he continued to think.
He saw the lights from cracks through the clothing. His box had been opened. 'Maybe they won't see me,' he wondered. "I think I see something," a different voice said. 'Nope, they saw me.' He felt a hand on his stomach. Busted. 'I'm going to die,' was his final thought before he was tugged forward and staring into the purple eyes of a Villia.
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