This is my first original story that i have ever written sucessfully, though there have been many failures and i have written alot of fanfictions that are posted on . This story was born from an essay that my high school english teacher assigned that is also postered here as 'My Justice'.
The sky is overcast and the dirt is swirling in the wind that is bringing the darker storm clouds in from the east. A lone boy is walking down a dirt road, kicking the dark pebbles that would crack and spark like lighting when were struck against each other.
"Cain, wait up!" a black-haired boy is running down the track, tripping over donated combat boots that are two sizes too big. The running boy doesn't seem to notice or care. He will never be caught complaining about what he has. He and his friend know too many children whose bare feet leave bloody footprints on the tiles at school and the faint whimpers they try to suppress during class as they clean the sharp, electrically- charged rocks out of their slowly corroding flesh always made him cringe. The memories are like a movie in his mind, slipping by in crooked frames and sepia colors.
"What do you want?" Cain asks, forcing the black-haired boy out of the memories that clatter across his mind's eye like one of the antique roll-tape films that people stopped making a hundred years ago. Cain's voice is rough and there is a chance that soon he will stop being able to speak at all. Neither of them has had water in so long and the dust from the east has gotten worse every year of the dry season. The thought sends more memories into his consciousness and he tries to suppress them as he nears his best friend.
"When are we going to the base?" the boy says, glad that he can change the subject so easily. Anything to get away from the memories of a better life before-
Cain grinned, cutting of his thoughts and distracting him with that rare smile of perfect white teeth.
"We can go now; there is nothing for me to do at home anyway. My dad is still out with his unit." Cain turns his head aside when he is done speaking, letting the dark mahogany and teak colored locks hide his eyes. The black-haired boy is immediately cautious, remembering the pedigree that his friend carries in his veins. Another memory, this time the frame is frozen on a file three inches thick, the presidential seal stamped onto official documents, the ink running like blood, blood, blood, blo-
He faintly registers another thought; his own family isn't that different. None of them however is as good, as successful, as cunning, as deadly and as old as Cain's is. More memories. He looks to the skies, desperate for a distraction. His memories are rising again and he clings to his first coherent thought he can come up with before they flood his mind completely.
"The sky-" he is trying to say, to make an intelligent observation; to throw off the lingering thoughts of suffocating while breathing. Cain looks up at him with well- concealed surprise and he is comforted by the fact that maybe his friend was drowning too. Then he feels nothing but guilt and disgust that he would have such thoughts about the boy he saw as his own brother. Cain looks up, realization dawning in his eyes as he observes the darkening skies.
"If we are going to go we need to leave now, the acid will soon be falling." Cain jumps the three feet to the ground off the edge of the raised road, stirring up a cloud of gray ashes where his feet hit the dried ground. He looks up to his friend, slipping his hands into his pockets to reduce the amount of skin exposed the particles. The black- haired boy watches him, his green eyes observing the soon to be young man in front of him. Tomorrow will be their sixteenth birthday.
"Yea," he says, "lets go." He jumps to the ground and now they are both running, leaving only a cloud of ash that is quickly dispersing, covering the impression of boots left behind.