24hr story competition (vr prize)

[Infailia]

#1
This, this was everything she'd been fighting for. The city, with all of its lights and people and noise and life, sat before her, reflection glimmering upon the water.

She'd done everything wrong the first time, kept messing up and making mistake after mistake. Kept pushing on, moving forward as though there were no consequences. And when she finally stopped, finally bothered to look behind her, there was nothing left. Everything was gone. There was no one left, the world a hollowed-out husk of what once was.

But she continued forth because there was nothing else for her to do. And at the end, at that final mark on the map, the end of the story, the end of the world, was the chance to do it all again. After all, the world likes to pretend that it is kind to its heroes.

She stood there, the chance of a redo held in her hands as if it were a choice. As if there was any chance of hesitation or denial. As though the world would let her do anything but accept.

And thus re-begins the start of it all. Except, this time she lies awake each night, thoughts a maze with no exit as she runs through everything that went wrong. Everything she did wrong. She lies there, in bed, mind and body heavy and thoughts racing. Every blink takes longer, but never truly long enough. But that's okay, that's fine. It's better than what happened to everything else.

What won't happen again.

Because she's been removed from the equation. An eternal watcher of everything that could've been if she did everything right when she had the chance.

Forced to watch everything that is because she has been removed from the equation.

Stuck on the other side of this river eternally, never to cross because this is what she chose, the heroic ending to the tale of tragedy she wrote and only she remembers.

But that's okay, because at the end of time, at the end of the world, this is what she chose, what she fought for. The city, the things, the people, life.

[TeknoNeko]

(Not sure if this is still open but I felt inspired so here it is anyway!)

The world is full of fickle things. People, with their thoughts and opinions; weather, with its soft breezes and earthshaking storms. The very ground itself is unpredictable and ready to quake and collapse at a moment's notice. Then why is it that the nature of humans always seems the same? And it was this thought that troubled a young mind tonight.

Looking out across the channel it wasn't the cityscape that drew their eyes' attention. No, the reflection in the water was much more enticing. Lights that moved and flickered in a joyful dance with the current, reveling in their brief existence as they did every night. Much like us, the young mind thought. What made a person different to these lights? We dance and stumble and brighten the world while we are here. And yet when our night is over, our moon sets and the last stars whisper their goodnights, we don't have the comfort of returning the next evening. Our light burns dim, running out, never to illuminate again.

A furrowed brow and a huff; it was a cold midnight and yet it left no winter fog. Typical. The skyline was lucky with its promise to itself to forever be bright. How tiring that must be! But then another thought entered the young mind: humans had been around much longer than these lights had. And though there were different lights - fluorescent bulbs, oil lamps, and torches before these "LEDs" (was that what they were called now? It was taxing to remember the names of things.) - humanity largely remained the same. In a tale older than what's written we'd played out the same dramas and pitfalls, the loves and tragedies, the lives and deaths of our predecessors.

Each time has been a little better, they thought, opting to walk along the river rather than standing idly. We've grown kinder, and wiser. Eyes soft and old scanned the ground looking for - a flat rock that knocked their shoe, picked up and deposited into a pocket. The old illnesses are a bad dream for most of us now; influenza isn't the boogeyman it was. A small shudder. It felt colder all the sudden. It'd been so long since it felt cold.

Deep down they knew what they felt was jealousy; even deeper they knew it was irrational. Jealous, of an inanimate object no less! But oh, to be one of the lights. Beautiful, effervescent. To be warm again, to bring light to others. To be alive once more.

Their cemetery had long been forgotten, left in ruins with most grave markers broken or missing. Not that many had been laid to rest here; it had been used by a select few, and even fewer spirits remained. The young spirit had watched this city grow from the small gold mining settlement it once was - though they'd been here even before the settlement was. The postmortem passage of time had first been distressing, then boring, and now was a point of interest. It had been what, at least a century? Many more birthdays than they had thought to count, obviously.

Plip, plip, plop.

The stone didn't skip very far. Turbulent waters tonight; might make for a stormy morning thought the spirit, bemused. They'd rather spend the rainy day in the nearby bookstore, or the cafe a 5 minute walk from the overgrown resting place. It wouldn't do to be outside, even if the elements were no longer a concern to them. Besides, they smiled to themselves, there will always be lights to admire indoors too.

As the moon crept lower on its celestial arc, and night creatures settled down in burrows and crevices, the city's lights dimmed to give the day her due. Our young spirit settled as well, tranquil and at rest. The dawn would soon rouse all the city's diurnal inhabitants, and the spirit would make time later in the day to enjoy some of the local shops' offerings.

And when they day inevitably drew to a close, they'd once again ponder the lights of the skyline.