by Rooster Cult » Thu Feb 20, 2014 1:21 pm
It was actually in the year 3036 when this all started. The town where this started is not heard of or even mentioned beyond its county. It was a small town in the middle of exactly nowhere and there were no other towns with fifty miles of this one. It was the kind of town that you never had to leave. The kind that had all the stores necessary to survive in it and enough fast food places to satisfy anyone without agoraphobia. Since no one ever needed to leave this town, no one ever really did. But even if someone was to leave this small town, they would find that it looked just like all the others. With a collection of snowdrifts covering the sidewalks, a lack of anything that may resemble a living plant, and a horrid gloom of low black clouds that seemed to block out any light or warmth from the sun. Now, my dear reader, you may feel that these conditions and inhabitable and just plain wrong. How could anyone bare to live in such a state? I must assure you that no one has lived long enough to remember a time where everything green wasn’t crushed by ice, the blue sky wasn’t just a myth and everyone wasn’t afraid to be out of their own homes. And so, no one can miss the Earth that you all know and love.
The hero of our story isn’t the kind of hero you would be expecting. He stood around 5 feet 5 inches and was as scrawny as a twig. He always wore black clothes adorned with buckles and had at least one throwing knife hidden in his pockets. His hair was naturally black, falling a little above his shoulders and accompanied by a silver piece of fabric which he tied around his head. His skin was pale and his eyes were a golden color. Everything about him seemed cold, dark and angry, exactly the opposite of the hero of reality that you might expect to see. This hero’s name was Ahzzya, and he was barely even 15 years old when his reality crumbled around him.
Ahzzya could literally feel the tension between him and his mom. It seemed to make the very world hold its breath, expecting someone to start yelling at any moment. They sat across from each other in the car, Ahzzya at the passenger side and his mom at the driver’s side. While Ahzzya’s head was practically out of the window and listening to screamo; his mom, however, stared ahead, her gaze seemed distant and not totally focused on reality.
“Ahzzya.” Even with the music blaring in his ears, Ahzzya could hear his mom’s stern voice eventually break through the tension. He took out one of his earbuds and grunted “what?” In reply. “Why did you stab someone in the arm?”
This happened at least once every week, someone picked on Ahzzya at school and he made use of one of his hidden knives. Of course he never really injured anyone, he just gave them a nice cut on their upper arm, nothing that would need stitches and just deep enough to give them a scar that they wouldn’t forget. Of course he was always sent to the principal’s office afterwards. He was given a stern warning, a nice talk about how cold and lonely prison was, and his mom was called to go pick him up; and not to come back until “this little psychopath calms down.” Or something like that. Honestly, Ahzzya was surprised he hadn’t been expelled by now.
“Ahzzya?” His mom asked, breaking through Ahzzya’s thoughts. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah.” Ahzzya muttered, “’course I did.”
“And?”
“I did it because he deserved it, same as all the other times.” He bent down and made a show of turning up his music. It was his way of ending the conversation. He felt something pull his earbuds out and the music in his left ear stopped. Ahzzya turned out and saw his mom glaring at him with the earbud in her hand. “What did you do that for?” he asked, pausing for a moment to make sure his mom wasn’t going to crash into anything. Fortunately, she had just stopped at a stoplight.
“Because this conversation is not over.” Now Ahzzya was looking right into his mother’s face. Her eyes were hard and cold, sunken into a thin and almost skeletal face. Her hair was haggard and her skin was pale from lack of sun. She hadn’t eaten much since her husband and his dad left, so she was extremely skinny and she was always exhausted. “What do you want me to do, huh?” Ahzzya asked, he had now turned off his music. “Do you want me to just say, ‘oh I’m sorry I stood up for myself, here, I won't ever stop you from picking on me again.’?”
“I want you to stop using violence.” Ahzzya’s mom replied, turning half her attention to the road ahead as the light changed. “The principal might not have been right when she called you a psychopath, but no one else will know that. I may be able to put up with your anger issues, but no one else will, not if they don’t have to. Ahzzya, you may know this, but the only reason we even have a house is because I have friends here. And my friends support me when I need financial help. They won’t help us if you end up being increasingly violent. No one will.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” The question came out with a tone of annoyance. “You know I’m not someone who lets themselves be pushed around. How do I stop someone without hurting them?”
“You can always ask for help, report it to a teacher or something-”
“yeah right, me? Ask for help? That’s hilarious. I don’t need help I can handle things on my own.” Ahzzya crossed his arms and went back to staring out the window.
“Maybe that’s why you have no friends.” The words cut Ahzzya deep, deeper than anything else. He bit his lip to keep from insulting his mom or crying and stared out the window again. This time he wasn’t listening to music.
The moment they got home, Ahzzya walked on into the house. He usually stayed with his mom and waited for her to get out, but this time he went on ahead of her. He stepped through the door and into the warm interior of the house. He started walking up the steps to his room. He needed to alone, just for a little bit. He needed time to calm down. His mom’s words kept revolving in his mind, cutting him a little deeper each time he mentally repeated them.
“Ahzzya.” He heard his mom call as she entered the house. “Remember to do your school.”
Ahzzya’s mom had signed him up for online school the third time that Ahzzya was sent home early. She didn’t want him missing any study time. She was actually considering doing online school fulltime by now.
“Fine.” He called after her and slammed the door to his room. But once he got in, he flopped face first on his bed and let out a muffled sound which was a mixture between a sob and a groan. He couldn’t study now. He needed to stop thinking, he just needed to relax. His hand felt his pockets for a knife and pulled it out. He started repeatedly stabbing his pillow until its guts were strewn across his bed and his knife punctured into his bed. The silence that followed was amazing, sometimes the absence of sound was a miracle in itself. Ahzzya closed his eyes for a few moments, reveling in the moment of his own solitude. He took a deep breath before using his last remaining strength to roll onto his back and stare at the ceiling. He wasn’t planning on moving anytime soon. He watched as the room began to blur, his sight ruined by unspent tears. He angrily wiped them away and sat up. He wanted to get angry at something, to stab something, well, other than his pillow at least. And then he saw it, it was just a flicker of movement in the corner of his vision, but he had trained his eyes to be able to pick out those kinds of things. He grabbed his knife and a small remote from his bedside table. With a thumb on the button, he started to make his walls clear until they were see through. Smart glass; that was what the main building substance was now-a-days. It was a glass that altered between being dim and clear. The more dim it was, the harder it was, at the maximum setting it was harder than steel and completely airproof, when it was completely clear, it was about as hard as a bubble and could be stepped through easily. After the black fog came every building was made out of this stuff. Ahzzya could feel the temperature in his room plummet as the walls almost disappeared. He got his wish. In front of him, on top of his neighbor’s house was a dark figure. A Zver, that’s what they were called. They were the creatures that came with the black fog. It was a Russian that first shot the thing a hundred years ago, so he had the honor of naming it. Zver; that was the name the hunter chose, and the thing had been called that throughout the ages. Ahzzya let out a breath of relief, Finally something he could stab. Ahzzya clutched his dagger and stepped forward slowly, watching the creature intently. It’s black, silhouetted form stood out against the white snow, but it was crouching down, leaning over the edge, silent and unseen from ground level. He followed the Zver’s gaze and sat a middle aged man, he was overweight and his greasy head was starting to bald. Ahzzya’s mouth opened in an O of understanding. This Zver was hunting. And the man was his victim. Before Ahzzya could react, the Zver had launched itself at the man. There was a scream, a splatter of red against the snow and then silence. Ahzzya flinched back, he never liked death. He claimed he didn’t care, but still felt something deep in him that was unsettled by the sight. Ahzzya lifted his knife into the air and, with a quick flick of his wrist, he sent the knife spiraling into the air and sticking the creature in the back. A thrill of triumph went through him as he watched the creature fall. Ahzzya turned around and raced down the steps and around the corner. Then he hit something. There was a moment of confusion as he fell to the ground and heard his mother’s protest.
“Mom?” he asked. “What are you doing?”
“Well I was trying to get the mail.” She said and grabbed some letters that gad scattered along the ground. “But then I was plowed over by a maniac.”
“Yeah, love you too, Mom.” He muttered, he had heard the teasing in her voice and tried to ignore it. His mom ruffled his black hair with a hand and Ahzzya started to help clean up the mess. He started to place one card at a time on the table, taking in whose it was at a glance. And then Ahzzya stopped. The envelope was plain, with a USA flag stamp on it, but it was the sender I.D. that stopped Ahzzya. That address was where his dad worked. His dad didn’t leave like other dads, not dying, or divorce or even just walking out. No, he went to a work assignment across the country and never came back. He kept sending letters, though, each saying the same thing and printed on a computer. It was saying something about how work had come up again and he wouldn’t be able to come home yet. It had been nine years. Ahzzya’s dad wasn’t coming back. The letters had been the main reason for his mom’s depression. He took the unopened letter and dropped it into the trash.
“Why are you throwing that one away?” He heard his mom ask.
“It’s a stupid advertisement.” He lied simply, “from a credit card company.”
There was no answer as his mom picked through the rest of the mail and Ahzzya stared at his dad’s letter. He wondered vaguely if Dad actually had written something other than his usual excuse. He frowned, his dad didn’t deserve the chance of an apology. Ahzzya stuffed the letter as deep as he could into the trash and walked outside. So much for his sudden burst of happiness.
The temperature was at least 20 degrees Fahrenheit outside. Most people wouldn’t be caught dead out here wearing a sleeveless shirt and shorts, but Ahzzya wasn’t like most people. He had a high tolerance of the cold, of pain in general to be exact. Some people call it Sensory Processing Disorder, Ahzzya didn’t really care. The cold was probably the most catastrophic event that came with the black fog, not the Zvers. At first the cold wasn’t that bad. Humans were used to, and prepared for extreme weather. But the wildlife was not. Most of the creatures started to stuff themselves with as much food as they could find and started hibernation by the first snowfall. But a week wasn’t enough time to prepare for the winter, especially if the “winter” appeared in June and never stopped for the next 100 years. Most creatures died instantly, any animal without thick fur or feathers was immediately extinct. The herbivores died out more slowly, however, as their food supply withered off. And then The Zvers started to hunt not only humans, but animals, trying their best to starve humans off. Now most foods were made out of some random chemicals, as most of the animals were protected by a bunch of hippies. That was also why when Ahzzya wanted something alive to stab, he was forced to go with a Zver; because killing even a mouse with rabies was considered a federal offense nowadays.
Ahzzya reached the dead bodies of the Zver and the man within minutes. He tried to ignore the body on the ground and the crimson stained snow. It wasn’t his job to do anything about the man, someone would come get the body within a few hours. Plus, his mom didn’t allow him to mess with death. It wasn’t something a child should even be introduced to, that’s what she always said. But it didn’t matter now. So many years of living in this broken down little world where death was as normal as a hobo asking for handouts at the local Walmart had left Ahzzya cold and calloused. Had left everyone cold and calloused. The only difference between him and other people, was that he killed the Zvers. That he wouldn’t stand for the death. That was the only thing that set him apart. And people didn’t seem to like him because of that. Maybe it was because of his temper problems, or the fact that he could kill in the blink of an eye. Whatever the problem was, people hated him for it. And that, he could never understand. He ripped himself from his thoughts again as he leaned down to grab his dagger. Staying outside for too long could be fatal. This middle aged man found that out the hard way. Ahzzya grabbed the hilt and pulled it out of the creature’s back. The Zver was humanoid in appearance, but that was where the similarities ended. It was covered completely with small black feathers and had molted in several places, leaving pink wrinkly skin covered in little bumps. These feathers were bullet proof and as hard as a rock, the only weak point being the molted parts of their body and their eyes. A Zver’s eyes were read and beady, with no pupils or eye whites. Their teeth were sharp and pointed, and covered in venom and their fingernails were deadly claws. A voice sounded from the house, disrupting Ahzzya’s thought’s again.
“AHZZYA.” The voice called, it was his mom’s voice that called him. “YOU GOT A LETTER.”
Ahzzya scowled slightly and turned on his heels, walking back to his house.
When he got back home, the last of the letters were either opened or thrown in the trash. He looked through the letters quickly and back at his mom, making sure she hadn’t seen his dad’s letter. A quick examination of his mom’s expression told him that she was just fine, well, as fine as she had been before she got the mail. He grabbed the last unopened letter and turned it over, like there may be something incredibly interesting on the back. There wasn’t.
“Hey Mom?” Ahzzya asked. “Is this it.”
His mom let out a distracted “mmhhmm.” As she flipped through the pages of a book that she got from the mail. He shrugged and opened it, pulling out a piece of paper and studying it for a second. When he reached the middle of the letter, he let out a curse and dropped it like the letter was about to self-destruct. The letter said:
Dear Ahzzya Colson
Your abilities with taking care of the Zver have been noted, and due to lack of Hunters, you have been summoned to become one of the Hunters. You will come immediately, do not resist, if you do, your defiance will be noted and dealt with.
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Last edited by
Rooster Cult on Tue Nov 18, 2014 11:49 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Rooster or Ruce // Autistic // any pronouns
