Global Warming - Blog Posts
The beginning of February, and it's 70 degrees. I fall back on it like a blessing from Apollo, knowing that when it ends I'll be more lost than before.
Help Nature Breathe Again
We call ourselves the best of creatures,
Yet what have we done?
Except lead destruction and chaos,
And blindly kill with our gun,
The world was once a beautiful place,
Where wild animals roamed free,
And the plants didn’t require permission to grow,
For Earth to be paradise this is key,
Yet the human’s urge for more is too strong,
So they chain up the helpless animal souls,
And chop down their precious dwellings,
We fill their joy with gaping holes,
The world was once a beautiful place,
Where constant was the climate,
And the sky shone clear and blue,
This was before the human’s heart began to split,
Into worthless pairs of two,
We continue our trail of murder,
From the plants and animals to the atmosphere,
With weapons such as our cars or litter,
We tightly suffocate the Earth year by year,
If this isn’t enough,
We mercilessly kill our own kind,
With wars over pointless wealth,
Or plots constructed by cunning minds,
We continue to crowd every acre of nature,
And add on our pressure to Earth’s fragile land,
But we never feel remorse,
We should no longer be considered grand,
With all the problems we have caused,
With all the animals we have imprisoned,
With all the plants we have cursed to thrive,
With all of our hideous crimes,
Do we still live in the illusion that we are great, and continue to remain oblivious to the suffering we have caused, or do we step up our game, and rid the Earth and its eldest inhabitants of our heavy burden? Together, we can make a difference, and help the Earth breathe again.
If you're feeling anxious or depressed about the climate and want to do something to help right now, from your bed, for free...
Start helping with citizen science projects
What's a citizen science project? Basically, it's crowdsourced science. In this case, crowdsourced climate science, that you can help with!
You don't need qualifications or any training besides the slideshow at the start of a project. There are a lot of things that humans can do way better than machines can, even with only minimal training, that are vital to science - especially digitizing records and building searchable databases
Like labeling trees in aerial photos so that scientists have better datasets to use for restoration.
Or counting cells in fossilized plants to track the impacts of climate change.
Or digitizing old atmospheric data to help scientists track the warming effects of El Niño.
Or counting penguins to help scientists better protect them.
Those are all on one of the most prominent citizen science platforms, called Zooniverse, but there are a ton of others, too.
Oh, and btw, you don't have to worry about messing up, because several people see each image. Studies show that if you pool the opinions of however many regular people (different by field), it matches the accuracy rate of a trained scientist in the field.
--
I spent a lot of time doing this when I was really badly injured and housebound, and it was so good for me to be able to HELP and DO SOMETHING, even when I was in too much pain to leave my bed. So if you are chronically ill/disabled/for whatever reason can't participate or volunteer for things in person, I highly highly recommend.
Next time you wish you could do something - anything - to help
Remember that actually, you can. And help with some science.
Sharpshooter - Only the Strongest will Survive
Chapter 10
Word count: 2.2k
Warnings: Violence, death, blood, profanity, injuries
The howl of an animal wakes me from my light sleep. They're out again. It takes me a few moments to gain my bearings, but my hand stuffs the middle parting of the golden hairpin into my belt automatically. The metal has gone dull from blood and acid rain.
I take a drink from one of the water packets and a bite out of my half-eaten ration bar. My stomach growls in protest, wanting more. I'm eating even less that I usually did back in North America, and for a short time, in the city. We usually had some dead fish or something from scavenging to eat besides those ration bars.
I look out from the mouth of the cave, my cybernetic eye scanning the area. There's no clouds today. That's new. The past few days have been plagued with storms. Acid rain had been spilling into my cave non-stop. Yesterday, I woke up in knee-deep water and had to clear it out with my bare hands.
Occasionally, I hear the faint sound of an explosion going off. Poor kids. Dying to a mine. So much more dishonarable than dying in real combat.
I haven't seen any animals since I found one of its bodies right outside my cave. Right before you killed an innocent, injured boy. I haven't encountered anyone either. I've spent days alone in my cave, plotting out my next move.
The sniper is too heavy for me to use like a pistol. The only thing it's good for in my hands is smashing people's faces in. "So uncivilized," Mayday would say. I chuckle to myself at the thought. I hope he's still alive. Focus.
I'm running low on water packets too. Dehydration's a bitch, so if I don't get more water, I'll probably die. Can't have that. I found the sniper, ration bars and water packets buried in the ground. I don't know how I'll find more, considering the only way I found them was seeing the butt of the sniper stick out from the ground.
If I encounter a person without a gun, I'll just tackle them and stab them in the neck with my hairpin. As usual. If the person has a gun, I'm fucked. Usually I'd say it's not worth the risk, but I'd rather go out fighting than of dehydration.
After pacing the perimeter of my cave, I head back inside, taking the golden hairpin out from my belt. Running my finger across its dull surface, I notice that some of the outer layer of gold has peeled off, revealing a shiny silver underneath.
So this isn't real gold, huh. What a scam.
It doesn't seem like there are any animals near my cave. For now. They're only out hunting for what I assume are a few hours every day. When the howls stop, they're gone. That's my chance to get more supplies.
I can't see the green lights tonight. It's probably too cloudy. That also means there might be a storm coming. I won't have much time if I have to wait out the animals.
Soon, the silence returns, no longer punctuated by the sounds of feral animals. I wonder how many victims they claimed tonight. The more, the better. "Until a hundred million remain," the man in the suit said. The faster they die, the faster this nightmare ends.
Now's my time to find more supplies. I head out of my cave, hairpin clutched tightly in my hand. If I'm out looking for supplies and in the open, I can't bring my sniper. It's too heavy and bulky to drag along, so I leave the barrel sticking out of the mouth of the cave as a marker.
The sky is brighter today. The almost blinding lights of the city probably contribute to that. The clouds almost seem like they're lit up. Visibility is good. There's no better time to go.
Walking down the slope of the base of the mountain where my cave is, I look around, trying to find any trace of water packets or ration bars in the ground. I tread carefully, making sure to avoid the little bumps in the gravel that are probably mines.
I also make sure to avoid the bodies scattered across the ground. Seeing them from my cave was no big deal, but up close...oops. Accidentally stepped on the body of a toddler. The crack of its bones shattering under my weight echoes through the night.
Shit shit shit everyone's gonna know I'm out here. I have to make this quick.
The scent of rotting flesh, blood and gunpowder fills my senses, and I resist the urge to throw up as I continue my careful dance across the gravel plane. Some areas in the ground have been dug up, leaving holes in the gravel. There were probably supplies or weapons there that people dug up.
How am I supposed to find anything?
All I can do is keep walking and cling onto the hope that there are still some supplies that no one has dug up yet. Occasionally, I hear the sound of gravel crunching. I immediately switch my cybernetic eye settings to show heat signatures, but whoever's there is fast.
It feels like my heart is in my throat. Someone's there. They might be following me. They probably want to kill me. But why follow in the darkness? Unless they want to strike at just the right moment...My hand tightens around the hairpin. I can't afford to let my guard down. My steps are barely audible without the heavy ass sniper on my back.
Are there even any supplies left?
I keep walking on, clinging to the sliver of hope that there will somehow be rations left. Even with my guard up, my mind still drifts to Mayday. I don't even know if he's alive.
Don't be silly. Of course he's alive.
But what if he isn't? What if he's one of these bodies on the ground? What if he's bleeding out somewhere from the wound on his head and I can't help him? What if-
Shut up. Focus.
I walk on in the same direction for what seems like eternity. Every step I take, I brace myself for an explosion beneath my feet and the excruciating pain that will probably come along with it. The sound of footsteps fades in and out, but they never get close enough for me to draw my hairpin.
Suddenly, a mine goes off right behind me, throwing me face-first to the ground. My heart leaps into my throat as I cover my head. My ears feel like they're burning. A high pitched ringing fills my senses, making my head hurt.
I look down and notice a bump in the gravel right under my chest. My eyes widen as my body tenses up. A mine. I curl up into a ball, bracing myself for the impact of the explosion.
I'm going to die. I'm sorry daddy, mummy, ah kong, ah ma...Mayday...
But nothing happens. After a few moments, I uncurl from my little ball and look around, confused. I should be dead. I should be like the others, just body parts scattered on the ground. I stepped on a mine, didn't I? Unless...
I kneel onto the ground and start digging around the bump in the gravel. My knees are scraped from the fall, the tiny rocks on the ground digging into the raw flesh, but I can't be bothered to care about that right now. I keep digging, my fingertips getting red and raw, until my hand finds what feels like fabric. I pull it out, before opening it and looking inside.
There's what looks like 4 ration bars, a few big packs of water, and a bottle of something I can't quite recognise. I'll see what it is when I get back to my cave, when I'm not out in the open. I grab the bag, slinging it over my shoulder, before turning around and walking in what I hope is the direction of my cave.
That mine that went off next to me...there was someone there. I can see what remains of their severed body, fresh blood spilling out and staining the gravel. I try to ignore the way it seeps into my boots, making them squelch with every step I take.
That's not good. Enemies will be able to hear me.
But I can't run either. Too much noise. All I can do is keep walking and pray that no one comes for me. I can feel my heart pounding in my throat. My hand instinctively reaches for the hairpin on my belt. The cool metal against my fingers feels strangely comforting.
I can still see my footprints in the gravel from my journey. I take care to follow them as accurately as possible, not wanting to set off any mines right after I got some supplies.
The way back is much faster than the walk to get the bag. I can just about make out the mouth of my cave from here, without having my cybernetic eye zoom in. Maybe I will make it back.
Then I hear footsteps behind me. I whip around, fists raised to protect my face, hairpin clutched tightly in one. A sharp pain shoots through my the back of my palm and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying out in pain. Warm liquid trickles down my forearm. Blood.
A large mass suddenly pounces onto me, pinning me to the ground with its weight. I put my hands out, trying to push it off, but to no avail. The knife in my attacker's hand hovers dangerously close to my neck, only held off by my hand grabbing its wrist.
I can barely breathe. The weight is suffocating, and the hand trying to drive the knife into my neck is persistent. My arm burns from the effort of holding it off. My other hand, sandwiched between our bodies, slips out and drives the hairpin into my attacker's neck.
Or at least, that's what I try to do. The hairpin won't go in. It isn't sharp enough anymore. Panic shoots through me as my arm feels like it's about to give way.
No. No! I can't die here. I can't!
My attacker now grabs my hand that's holding the hairpin, twisting and forcing it to drop my weapon. The hairpin falls to the gravel with a "crunch". No no no no NO NO. I squirm around under the weight of the enemy, panic flooding my senses. I can't breathe.
But I'm not going down without a fight. I twist the wrist of the enemy, forcing the hand to drop the knife. I grab it by the blade, quickly shifting my grip down to the handle, before driving it into their neck.
A scream of pain barely escapes the person before I clamp their mouth shut with my hand, pulling the knife out and driving it back into their neck for good measure. Warm, crimson liquid soaks my hands, some of it spurting out of the dead body. I take the knife with me but leave the hairpin, quickly fleeing before any more enemies come for me.
Panicked thoughts fill the silence of the night. The hairpin wasn't sharp enough. The acid rain dulled it too much. I'll have to use the knife now. But what if that dulls too? I can't keep relying on melee or I'll die. Getting up close and personal is too much of a risk anyways, you saw what just happened.
As the adrenaline from the fight fades, my legs start to feel heavier and heavier. Each step takes more effort than the last. There's a dull ache on my right palm, where I grabbed the blade of the knife. I'll deal with that later. All I have to do is just get back to my cave. To safety.
The way back is calm. No more fights, not even the howls of animals yet. I reach my cave and stumble to my favourite corner, the one with the thickest layer of gravel and a smooth rock for a pillow.
Lowering myself down onto the bed of gravel,I set my bag down, opening it up and laying out my supplies, my hands staining the fabric with blood.
Now that I can afford to read what's on the unfamiliar bottle, I can just make out the words "healing paste" on it. Perfect for the wounds on my hands, which are still slowly dripping thick, red liquid.
I open the bottle, scooping out some of the paste onto my fingers and applying it to the gashes. I let out a soft sigh of relief, the cooling paste soothing the aches.
Can't use too much of this. Have to save it for future wounds.
I turn my head to look at the sniper that had been waiting patiently for my return all this time. I almost feel bad for leaving it behind.
Heh. Look at you. Feeling something for a fucking gun.
Of course I feel bad for leaving it behind. The fight would've been much easier with it. Maybe there wouldn't have been a fight at all if I had just shot the enemy from a distance. Maybe the sniper is worth more than just a sledgehammer to smash people's faces in.
I lay my head on the hard, smooth rock that I now call my pillow, trying to get comfortable. I'll figure things out in the morning. For now, I need to rest.
Sharpshooter - Only the Strongest will Survive
Chapter 9
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings: Child death, violence, blood, weapons
The storm rages on for a while. I don't keep track of time as I stay curled up in a pathetic little ball in the corner of the cave with my supplies. Thunder crashes outside, leaving a ringing sound in my ears. Rainwater sprays in ever so often, helping me wash off the blood in my hair.
The girl. The hairpin.
I almost gag at the memory of her body, blood spurting out of her carotid artery and into my face. The metallic taste of the liquid in my mouth as I continued to pierce her already lifeless body.
Her family will burn because of me.
The toddler she killed. He could barely walk. Of course he couldn't survive. Better to get killed by her than die of thirst or starvation.
I don't use the rainwater to wash the hairpin. It could corrode the metal and dull it.
Stupid antique hairpins.
I hear the crunching of gravel from outside the cave, slow and inconsistent. I uncurl from the ball and ready the hairpin. Heading to the mouth of the cave, being careful not to slip out, I look down, seeing the silhouette of a tall boy climbing up the base of the mountain, clutching his leg like he's wounded. There's a knife in his hand. It's not Mayday's knife.
If he sees me he's going to try and kill me.
My body tenses up as my hand around the hairpin tightens. A lump rises in my throat, restricting my breath, my throat tightening.
Steeling myself for another kill, I hide just behind the entrance to the cave, waiting for the stranger to enter, my head spinning as I ready myself to kill another person if necessary.
No. It is necessary. They'll do whatever they must to survive. No alliances.
As the figure approaches the mouth of the cave, I tackle it to the ground, kicking it in between the legs. I hear a pained scream and I shut it up by stabbing it in the neck, the blood spilling out as its body goes limp.
I know it's not Mayday. He'd put up more of a fight.
I wipe the blood on my hands on the boy's face. His eyes are still open, the fear in his eyes visible, his mouth open with a silent scream. Dragging the boy by the legs, my muscles straining, I push him out of the cave to roll down the mountain.
He would have killed me had I not killed him first.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead, staining my face with crimson liquid. The clap of thunder that follows the "thump" of the body hitting the ground leaves a ringing sound in my ears.
I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, my eyes darting around, ears perked up in case of the faintest sound of footsteps. The sound of mines going off continues. Every "boom" reminds me of the girl that blew up right next to me. The intestines spilling out of her severed torso, her limbs blown clean off their joints...it sends shivers through my body, a sickening feeling rising up in my gut.
The hairpin, still clutched tightly in my hand, feels like lead. I've taken two lives with this, which leads to around ten more lost. I slump against the wall of the cave as water from the storm sprays inside.
I can't sleep. Someone could kill me.
Taking a small drink from the water packet next to my rations and sniper, I hear the crunch of footsteps on gravel. Hurriedly picking myself up from the cave floor, my cybernetic eye whirls around in its socket whilst my real one darts around frantically. My breathing quickens, my legs ready to carry me while I stab my hairpin into the attacker.
The sound of footsteps gets louder and louder.
Where is it? WHERE IS I T?!
I look out the mouth of the cave, searching for the source of the sound. My cybernetic eye doesn't display any heat signatures nearby. But how could this be? I swear I heard something. It was so L O U D.
It could be above me. Maybe taking shelter. Now's the time to strike, but the storm...I can't make a move now. I'll find the person later.
The sound doesn't stop. It's too loud. It sounds like it's right next to me.
What if it is?
It isn't. If my cybernetic eye can't find anything, then there's no one there.
What if there is?
Shut up!
Time crawls by slowly. The storm stops after what seems like an eternity, but the sound of footsteps doesn't. Climbing out of the cave, I scan the area for any heat signatures. Nothing shows up, no matter where I look.
Then the sound suddenly stops. Are they dead? Resting?
My hand trembles, a tingling feeling in my legs as my breathing starts to get erratic again. I dart back into the cave, hairpin clutched tightly in my hand.
The sound of footsteps comes back.
"Shut up!" I scream as I clutch my head, grabbing fistfuls of my short hair in hopes that it'll stop the sounds.
I curl up against the wall of the cave, the gravel on the floor digging into the fabric of my pants, my grip loosening around the hairpin. It drops to the floor with a soft "thud".
My eyelids start to droop, my head falling against my knees. Then the sound of footsteps fades in again, causing my head to jolt right back up. Then it fades back out, as if taunting me.
Shut up, or I'll kill you.
I toss and turn on the gravel floor, my hands covering my ears, fading in and out of sleep.
I can't sleep. Someone could catch me off-guard and kill me.
Yet, despite my protests, I eventually find myself passed out on the rough floor of the cave.
When I wake up, my hand immediately darts out to find the hairpin, grabbing fistfuls of gravel, searching frantically for the cool metal that somewhat reassures me. When my hand closes around the golden hairpin, the tension in my shoulders melts away and I find myself clutching the hairpin to my chest like it's my lifeline.
It's strangely silent. The sound of footsteps is gone. Maybe they took the chance to run away.
But they could still be there. Waiting for the perfect time to strike. Or worse. They could be dead. That means there's more out there.
It's dark outside. It always is. But when I look out this time, the night is clear and blinking lights illuminate the night sky. The sky isn't black, it's navy, peppered with little white dots. There's a patch that's particularly bright, clusters of stars forming big bright clumps in the sky.
Then my eyes catch a glimpse of green. Floating through the sky like very big, long snakes. They cast the slightest green glow on the ground, showing the silhouettes of dismembered bodies strewn over the floor, my cybernetic eye zooming in to one with the legs severed from the torso, intestines spilling out of the body, the lights casting a sickly green glow on it, outlining every ridge of the exposed tissue, glossy from rainwater. I feel the vomit rise up in my throat at the sight, slapping the side of my head to get the eye back to its original state.
I can't vomit. I can't waste water. Or food. Who knows how long I'll have to survive off of my limited supplies.
I couldn't look at the face. I know I'll only see fear in its eyes, frozen in time. Like the girl who I killed. Heh. I say it so casually now.
The sound of gravel shifting breaks the peaceful silence. When I peek my head to look outside, I see the silhouette of a body sliding down the slope of the base of the mountain. I freeze. Every muscle in my body tenses up. My hand tightens around the hairpin in my hand. I can almost feel the scars on my face hurting at the sight.
It's the animal that attacked me when I went out of the shield. Its blood spills down the slope of the mountain.
That could've been me. If the animal was somewhere above the cave...
My legs tense, ready to run should the monster wake up. Its body is lifeless, but I don't want another cybernetic eye. My breath stills. Everything's silent. Too silent. Someone must've injured or killed the animal. And they must be good with a knife.
I head back inside my cave to take the sniper. I try to lift it so that it won't make a sound on the gravel, but my heavy footsteps do that anyways.
My cybernetic eye scans up the mountain. The starlight makes it a little easier to see. My shoulders strain as I hug the sniper close, it seems to be the easiest way to carry it. Before I can see any heat signatures, I hear muttered curses and coughs. Gravel slides down the slope as I follow the sound to an area with a few rocks clustered together. Dark blood spills down the slope, coating the gravel. Holding my sniper up by the front like an axe, I turn the corner only to find a teenage boy, around my age, lying on his back, blood spilling out of a slash wound in his chest, his hand clutched tightly around a bloodstained knife.
My first instincts are to save him. To press my hands on the wound to stop the bleeding. But my first instincts could get me killed. He won't make it anyways. There's no medical attention for these kinds of injuries. Besides, from past experiences, everyone wants to kill me.
The boy's eyes widen. As a silent threat or plead for mercy, I don't know. But I see the subtle shift in his legs, the way his hand clenches around the knife, and I swing the sniper, the rear end crashing into his face, sending blood splattering into mine.
I don't care. I keep swinging the sniper into his face, again and again, until his hand goes limp around the knife. I then flip him over onto his back, before swinging the sniper at the back of his head.
Blood pools around my boots. I press two fingers to the side of his neck, and I'm very relieved to feel no pulse. I leave his body there, before carefully making my way back down the slope. Everything's silent again, besides the occasional sound of a mine going off a distance away.
He wouldn't have made it. I was giving him mercy.
But my intention wasn't to give him mercy. I was just scared. You can never be too careful. Everyone wants to kill you. Even stupid injured teenage boys who just killed an animal.
Thankfully, the animal's body is still in its original position, lifeless right outside my cave. Just for good measure, I push my hairpin into its neck, not daring to watch as blood spurts out and flows down the mountain.
I head back into my cave, throwing my sniper down to the ground, its rear grip stained with blood. An enemy's blood. I close my eyes for a moment, hoping to find some peace, but all I see is the slash wounds across the boy's chest and the blood caked on his face.
I look out at the stars illuminating the navy blue sky, the green lights that exposed the bodies of the dead. It's beautiful. But it's a constant reminder that people are dying out here. People are getting killed.
And whose fault is that?
The Mars Council's. It's not mine. It's not mine. IT'S NOT MINE.
I had no choice. Everyone here wants to kill me.
Under different circumstances, the stars, the lights...they would bring me comfort. But not now. Here...in Control...there is no peace. There is no comfort.
Sharpshooter - Only the Strongest will Survive
Chapter 8
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: Murder, child death, violence, profanity, blood
The inside of the transport lights up with a faint red glow. Welp. I can actually see shit now. I'm crammed alongside at least a thousand people. I tower over the younger kids. The older ones are as tall as Mayday. Those are the dangerous ones. They'll do anything to survive and keep their family alive.
The people up on Mars are lucky, I think. None of them have to go through this.
Out there, in the "transantarctic" mountains and valleys, we'll be exposed to the storms. Out in the open, there's not a high chance that any of us will survive the them. That is, if the mines in the ground don't kill me first.
I try to laugh it off as I have an argument with myself. "Stay positive, at least there's no more ice." If Antarctica was just like the stories my parents told me, it would be a lot worse. "Positive? We're going to die! Haha..."
As I push past a group of tall teenagers, I hear a girl shout, "Hey! Watch it. Fucking bitch...". I ignore her. In a few minutes she'll probably be dead.
Stupid Mayday. What was he thinking, volunteering for his family? I'm the only child. I've got no choice. But Mayday? He's got five brothers to enter the Games. But no, he had to be all heroic and volunteer.
I glance at the wristband displaying my information. My age, name, birth country...all to be a "player" in this "survival competition". The man in the suit said it was for "population control". Killing children for population control?! Sending their families back to North America to burn to death while they're still grieving over their dead child?! Eh, who cares. As long as it isn't me. Or Mayday...
The transport shakes as it lands. The door opens and troopers force everyone out. A few more transports land alongside us; children and teenagers streaming out, some of their faces frozen in fear, others trying to calm themselves, and then there's those like me, with a deadpan expression on my face, prepared to die.
All I need to do is find a knife, pistol or a blaster. Maybe I'll survive. Remember what Mayday said about how to detect the mines. The smell, the slight depression in the ground where they're buried.
The transports take off and we're left standing on the gravel surface of the ground. Be positive, I think. Be thankful it's pleasantly cool here in Antarctica.
The disgustingly smooth voice of the man in the suit booms over the speakers somewhere buried in the ground.
"Welcome to this year's Control. Good luck, and remember: Only the strongest survive."
The countdown on our watches starts. I assume we're not supposed to do anything until it hits zero, because it's a fucking countdown.
The countdown seems to take an eternity. I can feel the tension in the air. When the countdown hits one, a kid right next to me, looking around 9 years old, her skin chocolate brown, loses her balance and stumbles forwards. I don't know what to expect. Maybe nothing happens. Then sound of an explosion causes my ears to ring before everything goes silent. I feel warm liquid splatter onto my face. A bloodied leg hits my face and I flinch, taking a step back. The countdown is over by now, and I quickly start to shove my way through the mass of people, keeping an eye on the ground while frantically wiping the blood out of my eyes.
So that's what happens when you step before zero. No time to mourn. Where's Mayday?
I start to hear explosions in the distance, and the sound of blasters firing. Some people have already gotten their hands on weapons. The younger kids are screaming and crying whilst the older ones are desperately trying to keep it together like me. I run in a different direction than the majority of panicked children; uphill to the mountains. Well, not really running. More like a cautious dance. The smell of mines is so strong but I have no choice except to breathe it in. I avoid the small depressions in the ground as best as I can so as to not trigger them. I try to ignore the force of explosions behind me. I can feel the blood splattering against my back and into my hair.
My cybernetic eye scans the area, and sees a small cave carved out into the rock. The wind starts to pick up.
Another storm. No time to find Mayday. Shelter is the priority.
Everyone starts to spread out, trying to find shelter from the storms. In the distance, my cybernetic eye spots a girl, looking a few years older than me, stabbing a child struggling to even walk. The child was almost a baby, probably a few years old.
I look away as I continue the careful dance across the mines. That's when I look back and see the girl heading towards me.
My eyes widen as panic flares up in my gut. I look around desperately for any weapon, my cybernetic eye scanning the area. It zooms into the barrel of a blaster just sticking out of the gravel. I carefully make my way to the blaster as fast as I can, trying not to let panic overtake my senses.
Just as I reach the blaster, I'm tackled to the ground by the girl, the antique metal hairpin in her hand threateningly hovering just above my neck as I struggle to hold her arm up. My leg kicks up against her shin and she grunts in pain, her grip loosening for a second. I flip her over and grab the hairpin from her hands. Without thinking, I step on the girl's stomach, stabbing the hairpin into her throat, blood spraying out of the wound and into my face. I keep stabbing even as her body goes limp, my breathing heavy and shaking.
As I finally calm down, I drop the hairpin to the ground and fall to my knees right next to her, the blood on my hands staining the gravel. The adrenaline rush starts to fade as I glance at the body of the girl. Her eyes are open, the fear in them frozen in time.
I...I just killed her.
I hear the first crash of thunder in the distance. I'll have time to break down later. I grab the hairpin and carefully head to the barrel of the gun sticking out of the ground, digging through the gravel to reveal its shape.
A sniper. I've never handled one before, but at least I won't have to go up close and stab people in the neck and risk dying. There's a few ration bars and packets of water in a small bag.
I grab the bag and drag along the gun, barely able to lift it as I clamber and force my way up into the small cave at the base of the mountain. By the time the lightning starts striking the ground, at least ten times a minute, I'm in the cave, soaking wet from the rain but alive. At least some of the blood from my face is gone. But not from my clothes...and definitely not from my mind...
I put my supplies as deep as I can into the cave and curl up into a ball in the corner, trying to keep myself together.
I'm alive. I'm alive!
I try to focus on my current situation. How many people are left? Is Mayday still alive?
Tears well up in my eyes at the thought of Mayday dying. No. He can handle himself. I just need to survive until the end. I have to.
Sharpshooter - Only the Strongest will Survive
Chapter 6
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: Blood, violence, injuries (cleaning wounds)
I can't move.
The creature's advancing fast, claw raised to strike the other side of my face. My legs aren't listening to my brain. They're rooted to the ground. My hand reaches for the hilt of my knife but it's nowhere to be found. Blood's still dripping from my eye.
I see the glint of its claws under the moonlight, poised to strike. Sharp knives digging into the other side of my face. And then my chest, blood spilling out from the wounds and dripping to the ground as my legs give out under me. I can barely breathe, the blood from my face flowing into my mouth and down my throat as I try to cough it up, but only more blood comes out.
Everything's blurry now, my vision a red haze of pain. I blink the blood out of my eyes, only to be met with the creature standing above me, claws to my throat. I can't even squirm under the weight of the animal.
My vision slowly starts to fade as the pain at the side of my face intensifies.
I'm gonna die. That's totally fine.
Humor isn't exactly working out right now. I feel the sharp claws press against my throat, and the intensity of my coughs increase as I try desperately to breathe and calm my nerves.
The creature raises its claws to strike, and all I can do is watch as its claws descend to my throat and slice through it like a knife through butter. I want to scream, but it's muffled by the blood in my mouth.
That's when I wake up on the bed of my empty apartment, coughing violently, my hand instinctively shooting up to the left side of my face where I still feel the claw marks indented into my skin. My heart pounds wildly in my chest as I frantically scan the area for signs of any movement in the darkness of my apartment. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I try to regain control of my breathing. My hands now grip the bed tightly, almost as if it could protect me from any danger.
Bed is safe.
My breathing steadies slightly so that I'm not gasping for air anymore, but my hands are trembling, clutching onto the sheets of the bed for dear life.
I press a hand to my forehead. It's sticky and warm. My breath hitches in my throat as I remove my hand from my forehead and put it to eye level. My eye scans for any signs of the sticky red liquid that makes my stomach sick, but there's no trace of it. I lay my head back against the pillow again, and stare up at the ceiling, its white paint coat slowly peeling off of it.
It reminds me of how the skin on Mayday's back was peeling off after he got whipped. I feel a lump start to rise in my throat when I think about it.
It's unfair. He got punished and I didn't. When he told me about it, I could tell that he did something to get me out of punishment. I've known him long enough to know.
I can almost see the blood oozing out of Mayday's wounds, the angry red skin surrounding the deep gashes in his back, the way he winced when I put the bandages there. It must've hurt.
I am grateful to Mayday for getting me out of punishment, who wouldn't? No one wants to get whipped on the back like that. But maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if I was right beside him, taking the same punishment. Maybe he wouldn't have that dead look in his eyes that I saw yesterday.
I just want to hug him, to comfort him, to tell him that everything is going to be okay. He doesn't deserve what he got.
After a few minutes of overthinking, I snap back to reality and get out of bed. There's some noise coming from the streets below, but not a lot. I assume it's about 6 or 7 in the morning from the amount of people downstairs.
I head over to Mayday's apartment with a roll of fresh bandages. I knock on the door.
"The door's unlocked." I hear a muffled voice from inside. I open the door to see Mayday lying on the couch on his stomach. When he hears my footsteps, he looks up at me with those eyes that have been haunting me all night.
I sit down next to him.
"Sit up," I pat his shoulder gently.
Mayday shakes his head, his face pressed against the sofa.
"I said sit up." I pull him by the shoulders and force him to sit up. "Now take off your goddamn shirt so I can rebandage those fucking wounds."
Mayday groans. "Fine." He takes off his shirt, his back facing me so that the bandages that I put on him yesterday are visible. They're soaked through with blood, staining them a dark crimson.
I inhale sharply through my teeth.
"What?" Mayday asks, annoyed.
"It doesn't look good," I reply as I start unravelling the bandages around his torso, revealing the cuts on his back.
I cringe at the sight of it. There's some patches of dried blood clumped together, but there's blood all over his back. There's some bruising at the areas where his skin isn't cut open, and his back is swelling slightly. I always hated the sight of wounds. I can deal with death, sure, but not injuries. Those make me sick.
I hear Mayday wince as the wounds hit fresh air. Not really fresh, considering the air in the apartment isn't that well-ventilated.
"I...might have to wash that..." I tell him.
"WHAT?!" Mayday shouts, turning around to face me, but winces again at the pain in his back. It's the reaction I expected.
"If you want it to get infected, swell up even more, have pus in it, have to be taken to the hospital and pay more for treatment and maybe even surgery, go ahead," I say with a hint of sarcasm in my voice.
I head to the toilet where there's an old cloth on the sink, I assume it's one of Mayday's brothers'. I quickly wash it with water, trying to clean it as well as I can, getting most of the dirt off of it.
With the cloth still dripping wet, I head over to Mayday.
"Lie on your stomach and stay still, or I'm going to press this cloth onto your back even harder," I order. Mayday rolls his eyes but reluctantly complies with the order. I then place the wet cloth onto his back, the blood almost soaking through it immediately.
Mayday inhales sharply as a shudder runs through his back. He presses his face into the sofa to muffle his shouts of pain, but I can still hear them. I gently press the cloth down onto his back, and he starts shaking. I can hear him breathing heavily, and almost what sounds like crying, muffled by the sofa.
"Sit up," I tell him after I finish cleaning his wounds, and wrap fresh bandages around his torso to cover the cuts, which are still bleeding, but slower. I catch a glimpse of Mayday wiping a few tears from his eyes but I don't mention it to make sure he doesn't die of embarrassment.
"There. Done." I look up at him. Mayday grits his teeth. "Thanks," he says. I can hear the sarcasm in his voice. I roll my eyes and bring the cloth back to the toilet, soaking it with water and trying to squeeze the blood out from it. By the time I'm done, most of the blood from the cloth is gone and I return it to its original position on the sink.
For the next few days, I help Mayday with his wounds. They've become scabs by now and he's no longer staining the chair in his apartment with his blood. This is the fourth day I've cleaned the area around Mayday's back. It's still bruised but slightly less now, and I make sure to be careful and avoid accidentally peeling the scabs off and reopening the wounds.
As usual, Mayday takes off his shirt and lays down on the couch, his bruised back facing up. That's when I hear a knock on the door. Mayday and I both stand up and open the door ever so slightly to see who's outside. Then five bodies come crashing down on us, and we all fall to the floor in one massive pile.
It's Mayday's brothers. Great. Mayday sighs and lets himself get tackled to the floor by his brothers while I squirm my way out of the pile and head to my apartment to find my own family.
When I open the door, I see my parents and grandparents waiting at the door for me. I immediately run into their arms and hug them as tightly as I can.
"I missed you," I mumble, my arms tightening around them.
My grandfather pats my head, and my father replies, "Missed you too Potato." It's the nickname he gave me when I was younger.
After a moment, I let go of them, but they don't let go of me.
They're not usually this clingy. Something's wrong.
"What happened?" I ask.
They have a solemn look on their faces, my mother and grandparents seem to be holding back tears. While their faces may not show it, I know them too well. My father's got no tears to cry. His tear ducts were damaged from the heat on a trip outside the ray shield in the early days back in North America.
They remain silent.
I hear sobbing and crying from the apartment next to us. Mayday's apartment. It's either tears of joy, or the same tears that my family's holding back.
I've got a feeling it's not tears of joy.
Sharpshooter - Only the Strongest will Survive
Chapter 5
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings: Hospital, injuries, blood
Everything hurts. The side of my face. My left eye.
It stings.
The knives digging into the side of my face, warm red liquid pouring out. My hand instinctively reaching for my knife, finding nothing.
I wake up with a gasp. Everything around me's white, it's so vibrant that it's almost blinding. I squint a little to calm the throbbing in my head. Still can't see anything out of my left eye. My hand moves to the side of my face, only to feel 3 deep gashes there. They're not bleeding anymore.
How long have I been out for?
Soldiers. Pointing guns at my head. Handcuffs clicking. Dragging someone away.
Mayday.
I scan my surroundings as the vision in my right eye starts to clear, and I can see weird machines around me. A tube is connected to my arm, the other end of the tube connected to a bag of clear liquid which I assume is water.
"Hello?" I call out, the hesitation in my voice is evident. A metal thing which I can only assume is a droid floats over and does some scans on me.
"Your vitals are stable and your wounds have healed, " the droid says.
I roll over to the side of the bed, using my arms to push myself up into a sitting position. My hand instinctively moves to the side of my face again as I try to stand up, my legs shaking slightly as my other hand moves to the side of my head to support myself. The droid just floats on my left, observing my efforts to walk out of the blinding white room, expressionless, but saying, "Hey! Wait! You're not discharged yet!" I ignore it.
I put my hand on the walls to support myself, staggering through the empty hallways and through the glowing blue door which opens up when I get near it, into what I expect to be the cool Antarctic air. Instead I'm met with a warm blast of air to my face as something whizzes past me, moving too fast for me to make out what it is. I stumble backwards, into the white wall. I look upwards, there's a sign saying "Antarctic Hospital" on top.
Sounds come from all directions, flooding my senses with images of a busy street, crowds, people brisk-walking across roads to rush to work, cars honking at each other as they wait impatiently for traffic lights to turn green.
Great. The exact place where I didn't want to be.
The hand on the side of my face moves to my temple, where it feels like fingers are knocking against it, just like how I tap the hilt of my knife when I'm bored.
Mayday.
I scan the surroundings for any visible signs to show directions on where my apartment is. From the sounds around me, I assume I'm in the central area of the city. Which means the big screen should be near.
I break into a run, my steps light although the legs under me feel like lead, following the direction of the pavements until I reach a large area devoid of buildings, and people. Which also means not much noise. I sit down in the clearing, and then rest my back against the floor so that I'm looking up at the black sky, the moon behind me. A sense of calm comes over me and my eyelids feel heavy, threatening to close again.
Got to find my house.
I decide to lie down in the clearing, just staring up at the sky for a bit longer. The vision in my left eye starts to clear up, and I find myself staring at information that's displayed in front of me. My heart rate, different commands like "show heat signatures" and "zoom in", are all in front of my eyes. The words are a light blue, contrasting against the dark night sky.
What the hell do these things do? What did they do to my eyes? What the fuck does "show heat signatures" mean?
As if on cue, the black sky turns blue, and the lights from the buildings at the corner of my eye turn red. Thermal vision. That's...actually not bad.
Switch back to normal vision.
My eye complies. The vision in my cybernetic eye is no better than that in my regular one. Standing up, I look for any sign of the big screen that's always so obvious from anywhere in the city.
Just buildings. They block my view. I gotta get up to higher ground to find the screen. From there I could possibly try to find my way home.
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I flinch, whipping around as my fists clench, ready to give my attacker a punch to the face.
"Aris."
My vision is still slightly distorted from whatever the people in the hospital did to me, but I can recognize the voice, no matter how tired it sounds.
"M-Mayday?"
He nods, and I follow behind him as he walks away, giving me that small nod which I take as a "Come on. We're going home".
As we walk, I notice that the back of his black hoodie is darker in color than the sleeves. That's not right.
"Mayday?" I ask, my voice coming out softer than expected, and cracking slightly. It's only now that I notice that my throat is dry. Drier than the trees back home. I cough a little, and Mayday hands me one of those water packets. I nod, signaling a "thanks" as I take the water packet and put it in my mouth, biting down and letting the cold, sweet, refreshing liquid calm my senses and wet my throat as I swallow the water and spit out the packet.
My attention goes back to the back of Mayday's hoodie. I put my hand there, feeling Mayday flinch from the touch. I smirk. "Now you know how it feels."
"Don't. Touch. It," Mayday says through gritted teeth. I laugh slightly and remove my hand, only to see my hand stained crimson.
Blood.
I look up at Mayday again, who keeps walking, expressionless.
"What happened?" I asked, the concern in my voice obvious.
"It's fine," Mayday replies, staring forwards, still walking.
"You're bleeding. It's soaked through your hoodie. You're not fine. If you lose too much blood-"
"I said I'm fine," Mayday snaps, and I inhale sharply, surprised by the sudden annoyed tone in his voice.
He's not usually like this. Something's wrong.
We walk for a few more hours through the city, the streets slowly getting quieter and quieter as we reach the outskirts. We stay silent. I occasionally glance at him, but he doesn't return the gesture.
We reach my apartment. Mayday heads into his and shuts the door behind him. I stand there staring at the door for a few moments before heading into my own apartment. The door's unlocked. There's no one inside.
I call out my grandparents' names, they should be here, my parents are probably at work. I don't get a reply. I stare around the empty room, calling out my grandparents' names again, and get the same result. Nothing.
There's an unsettling feeling in my stomach. I head out of my apartment and to Mayday's, knocking on the door. Mayday opens the door, his face showing the slightest hint of excitement, before it returns to its expressionless stare.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice monotone. I look behind him and his apartment's empty as well.
Something's definitely not right.
"Have you seen my grandparents anywhere?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
"They went with my family to the central area, interrogations and stuff," Mayday says casually.
"What?! Why?!"
Mayday shrugs, but then winces slightly, which I notice. "About us going through the ray shield and stuff, breaking rules."
I look behind him again and see blood on the floor.
"You're not okay. I'm gonna go get bandages from my house and patch you up."
"I said I'm fine!" Mayday protests, but I've already run into my house to find some bandages, coming out a few moments later carrying a roll of the white gauze.
Mayday's eyes widen. "How did you get that?"
I shrug. "Just found it in my parents' drawer."
I head into Mayday's apartment and sit on the floor, motioning for him to come sit next to me. He does so, glaring at me every now and then. I know he's bleeding from the back.
"Take off your hoodie and your shirt," I say, an authoritative tone in my voice.
"Are you serious right now, Aris?"
"Yes. Now do it."
Mayday sighs and takes off his hoodie, and then his shirt. I look away, for obvious reasons.
"You can look now."
I look back at Mayday, who has his back facing me. I can see 5 deep gashes across his back, starting from his shoulder. Blood oozes out from the wounds, dripping down onto the floor.
"Holy shit. What happened?" I ask as I start putting the gauze across his back, passing it in front of his chest and then back to his back, tightening it slightly.
Mayday winces, but still stares forwards, remaining silent.
I finish patching up his back, the blood almost instantly soaking through the gauze.
"Done."
Mayday just sits there for a while, staring into space, not bothering to put his shirt back on.
"They arrested me after I brought you back in," Mayday says, his voice quiet. "They whipped me. But I handled it fine."
I sit down next to him. "I'm sorry."
Mayday glances at me. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault."
"Why haven't you been sent to the hospital? The bleeding's pretty bad, it's almost as bad as mine?" I ask.
"You seriously thought that they would give medical attention to a criminal?"
"They gave it to me."
"Because they don't think you're one."
I stare at Mayday, not expecting him to elaborate but still wondering what he means.
We sit there in silence for a bit and Mayday puts his bloodstained shirt back on.
"How's your face?" Mayday suddenly asks, and my hand instinctively moves to the 3 slice marks on my face, and to my left eye. A look of concern flashes over his face. "The medical droid said they replaced your eye with a cybernetic one, but it might take time to adjust."
I nod, staring out the door. "I know. So what do we do now?"
"I don't know. We just have to...hope for the best, I guess."
"We'll figure it out. Like we always do."
Sharpshooter - Only the Strongest will Survive
Chapter 4
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: Blood, weapons, profanity, violence (may be graphic)
I run towards the mountain. I can feel the wind in my hair as I pass Mayday, and I can hear him shout, "BRUH" from behind me. I grin as I reach the base of the mountain and look up. I can barely see the top.
I wonder if there's even any stuff to look for here. My grandparents told me that Antarctica used to be a cold desert, uninhabitable for humans. There isn't a high possibility that there could be anything here.
Mayday catches up to me and stands next to me, breathing heavily from the run.
"Sorry, did I run too fast for you?" I ask with a smirk. Mayday rolls his eyes. "In your dreams." He then looks up at the mountain, his eyes widening slightly. "Damn that's a big one."
"That's what she said," I reply, chuckling slightly.
"Bruh."
"What? You asked for it."
"Whatever. Just...see if you can find anything around here."
We split up, Mayday walking in one direction while I walk in the other. My eyes are more used to the darkness, it's almost comforting without the bright lights. I'm quite used to this level of darkness since Mayday and I usually scavenge during night time.
"First thing you needa know while you're out here, is when there's stuff buried in the ground. You see that patch of uneven mud? Go dig there for a bit, there's gotta be something there."
I find a few coins, their shiny silver dulled from probably years of being buried in the mud. Mayday crosses his arms. "Good."
Out here it's a layer of rock, then dirt, and then probably more rock. Patches of uneven dirt would be hard to spot under the pebbles covering it. Oh look, there's one right there, I should-
I hear an explosion in the distance.
My body tenses up, a sharp inhale through my nose breaks the silence of the night.
A part of the ray shield opens. Soldiers run out, flashlights on both sides of their helmets, heading towards the sound of the explosion, I stand there, frozen as they run in front of me, off towards more mountains in the distance.
I feel someone's hand grip my wrist and I instinctively shove my elbow backwards. Instead of hitting that plastoid armor that the soldiers wear, it hits a soft fabric hoodie and the person who's wearing it, aka Mayday.
"Let's go you fucking idiot!" Mayday hisses as he grabs my wrist and drags me behind a large rock.
I'm breathing heavily as I rest my back against the rock. Mayday rubs the area where I elbowed him, wincing slightly.
"Sorry," I say quietly. Mayday rolls his eyes. "Didn't know you were that sensitive to touch. Should I do it again?"
"I swear if you fucking touch me one more time I will fucking carve your eyeballs out with a kitchen spoon and then throw you feet first into a meat grinder."
"Yea right."
I turn around and look out from the rock, the last of the soldiers are moving out from the shield, and it closes up.
"Did you find anything?" I ask Mayday. He shakes his head. "Explosion. Don't know what triggered it. There shouldn't be explosives here. This place wasn't even populated before we came."
"Let's just wait until the guards head back. I think I found something in the ground just now, before you triggered my killer instinct."
We hide behind that large rock for a while before I hear the sound of people running back into the ray shield and the sound of plastoid plates knocking against one another. I look out from behind the rock and see soldiers running into the ray shield, and I wait for the last of them to enter and the shield to close up before standing up and leading Mayday to the place where I assume there's something.
It's kinda far away from the shield, and my walking turns into a slow jog, with Mayday reluctantly following my pace, brisk walking.
We reach the place where I saw that patch of uneven rock and dirt, and Mayday nods. I move the pebbles on the ground aside, revealing the dirt underneath. As I'm about to put my hands into the dirt to see what I found, Mayday stops me with a hand on my shoulder. I flinch and look up at him. "What?"
"Wait."
He digs around the object in the ground and then carefully takes it out from the bottom. "It's an explosive. Triggered by pressure."
"How'd you know-" I ask, and then Mayday cuts me off before I can finish my sentence.
"My bros told me, they said they hoped I'd run into some and trigger one by accident. Mom taught me how to recognize one in the ground, she was scared I would run into some back home."
Mayday carefully sets the explosive on the ground and backs away slightly, now standing next to me.
"These things always have this smell, you'll recognize it after a while."
"I don't smell anything," I say.
"You'll be able to eventually. Just make sure to tell me if you run into any more stuff in the ground. Don't want you blowing up or anything, I heard that's a painful way to die." Then he walks off in another direction.
I nod and then look at the explosive on the ground. It's almost completely camouflaged in the ground, colored grey, just like the pebbles on the surface it's on. The only thing giving away is its glint in the moonlight.
Don't step on it.
Wait, why the fuck are there explosives buried in the ground out here? Are they for the animals?
I remember hearing an explosion just now, was that from another explosive? There could be countless explosives buried in the ground, just waiting to be triggered. The thought sends a shiver down my spine. Hopefully Mayday can recognize them well, because I definitely can't.
I'm still staring at the explosive, lost in my thoughts. A shadow stands over the explosive, blocking the moonlight from shining down on it.
"Okay okay Mayday, I'm coming," I say without looking up at him, sheathing my knife and holstering my blaster before I stand up.
I step cautiously over the explosive, still not looking up, more focused on the ground for any more explosives possibly buried there.
I'm met with what feels like a slap to the side of my face and knives digging into my skin. My left eye goes dark. My right eye blinking though the blood. The shock lasts for only a moment before the pain starts to set in. I stumble backwards, falling to the ground, right next to the explosive, the jagged pebbles on the ground digging into my hands.
I glance up at my attacker, my right eye trying to blink away tears so that I can see clearly. All I can make out is a black figure on all fours, it's eyes glowing yellow in the darkness. I scramble backwards, my hand moving to the left side of my face as I move. Warm, red liquid is left on my palm as I try to get to my feet, not daring to look back.
I trip. Fall. Try to get up again, failing. My stomach clenches, my throat closes up, my legs trying to get a good grip on the ground so that I can run. The side of my face stings. A lot. Cool air blowing against it. Making it worse.
My right hand, with a few rocks embedded in it, reaches desperately for the knife in the sheath clipped to my belt, but the familiar hilt isn't there. Or at least, that's what I think for now. I swear I sheathed it in there just now.
I manage to get to my feet and run. Best to get cover before I can shoot the damn thing that just slashed me across the face.
I reach the rock where Mayday and I hid just now, and I hide behind it, waiting for the black figure to enter my line of sight, breathing heavily. There's an unsettling feeling in my gut as all I see is the mountains ahead. No sign of the yellow glowing eyes. I find a foothold on the rock and use it to climb on top of the rock. I use my hand to wipe away the blood and tears from my good eye, pulling out my blaster pistol and scanning the area.
My face still stings. Crimson blood drips onto my black hoodie. I don't dare to touch my face in danger of causing whatever wounds are there to be worse. My breaths come in short, sharp exhales, almost hyperventilating. The anticipation is worse than the actual thing.
I hear a knife getting thrown, and a louder growl from somewhere I can't pinpoint. Then an explosion. I jump down from the rock, knees almost buckling from the fall, and hide behind the rock, shutting my eyes tightly, hands pressing against my forehead.
Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic.
Blood continues to drip down onto the ground, my hoodie, my pants. Still breathing heavily.
It's coming. It's coming. It's coming.
The hand holding my blaster pistol shakes. My finger's on the trigger, and I'm so tempted to pull it, to break the silence of the night, to bring the danger here so I can shoot it.
Not practical.
"Just do it," I whisper to myself.
"Don't do it," I reply back.
"Why not? Get what you want."
"It's not practical."
"Aris!"
Mayday.
I stand up and look around frantically, blood splattering into my hair. I can make out the silhouette of a human not too far in the distance.
Mayday.
I lift up an arm and wave to him, signaling that I'm here. The adrenaline starts to drain from my body and my hand drops to my side, my knees threatening to buckle as I lean my back against the rock, clinging onto its side to keep myself standing.
After what feels like eternity, I can feel warm hands on my shoulders, and Mayday's voice calling my name, asking whether I'm alright. Everything is blurry. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground.
Mayday catches me, and slings one of my arms over his shoulder, walking back to the hole in the ray shield, basically carrying me as I try to stagger forwards.
"It's gonna be okay Aris, it's gonna be okay," I hear Mayday's strained voice. Glowing red in front of us is the ray shield.
What happens next, it's all a blur. I know I make it through the shield somehow without getting burned, and soldiers circle us as I grab Mayday for support, who's slightly unsteady himself. The soldiers point their blasters at us, and my pistol slips from my hand.
My knees buckle again and I drop to the ground, the side of my face that's bleeding hits the ground, sending a sharp pain through my face and the rest of my body. I stare forwards blankly as the blood starts to pool under me.
So tired.
My already heavy eyelids start to close as another wave of fatigue washes over me. I can feel a warm hand on my back, it's definitely Mayday's. I want to get up, to run home, to get away from the crowd of soldiers, but I can't. I can't move. the adrenaline rush is gone.
Right before I lose consciousness, I hear the sound of handcuffs clicking and someone being dragged away.
To anyone who is able to vote this year, please listen!
I know I haven't been posting much art lately. Sorry about that. I have been having some burn out and my mental health has been shit.
Anyways, I figured I would post what's been on my mind today.
I know many of us who currently live or are born in The States/USA have felt pretty hopeless with everything going on in the country at the moment. Especially because of the whole Biden V Trump shit that has been going on for a long while.
We have felt like that no matter who we vote for it's honestly pointless because either Biden or Trump will win. Well, honestly I would HIGHLY recommend checking out Mrs. Marianne Williamson.
Marianne Williamson is the only person in the Democratic party who has been calling for a ceasefire over in Gaza since the very beginning.
She stated that if she becomes the president she is going to be negoiating with the Ukraine and going to try and do as much as she can to help.
She, if she becomes president, wants to establish a Department of Peace because she believes that we need to better target and discuss peace just as much as we do war.
She wants to fight climate change.
She wants to make healthcare and college universal and free.
She wants to help disabled communities.
She wants to give land back to Indigenous tribes.
She wants to create more gun safety laws.
She wants to make jobs and homes more accessable.
She wants to help protect reproductive rights.
She wants to target mental health and make it more accessable to the people.
She wants to put more POC, LGBTQIA+, and disabled people into our government to be certain that when they are discussing matters that personally target those communities, people who represent those communities can speak their minds on it.
She wants to provide funding over the span of two decades to the black communities for the years of slavery that our country has put them through.
She wants to target poverty and the economy as a whole.
And lots more.
If you'd like to read up on her and what she stands for, you can find that -> here
Please spread this around as much as possible! We need a president who stands with Gaza, the LGBTQIA+ Community, the POC community, the Disabled Community, etc. She is that. She is just aaa. I checked out here site and was not disappointed. You can find her main site -> here
I just wanted to say that there's hope!!!! I know who has my vote this year. Please make sure you vote this year!
(Sorry for typos-)
I love drinking warm water- it brings out the taste of the chemicals in the tap water