674
Time - A Spin-off to Blight
A timid adolescent boy had survived a fiery apocalypse. Before him the remains of a once lush, vibrant valley bled out its precious remnants of ecosystems and plant life – crumbled dry earth dotted with dark stumps and ashen spruce trees engulfed in flames. The skies overhead were shrouded and blanketed. The hazy air veiling his vision also constricted his small puffs of breath. The watch he wore was stuck at 12:00 with the date unreadable. He feared night was infinite; there was no way to wake up, nothing to hope for and no memories to embrace.
He couldn't remember how he had got here alive. No matter how hard he forced his empty mind to revitalise his past life, he did not have any idea of who he was besides his christened name Steve. The only memorable features about himself were a torn turquoise shirt, ripped denims and scruffy brown hair. Without his memories, he had no purpose to live the second chance that was plucked away from the rest of his kind; he was no human.
Steve remained still and gradually closed his eyes. As long as he continued his monotonous breathing, he would remember the depths of this short life. He concentrated hard through shutting down all his bodily systems. He endured the radiation melting his heart only to reflect. He betrayed his sole survival to live in the past.
Let the hellfire consume him. All he needed was time.
The faint red glow on his eyelids faded to a blurry image of a man and a woman – his parents? They had an amalgamation of warm, wrinkled smiles and streaming tears. Upon the sight, all of Steve's memories returned to him like wildfire – his childhood years spent with his family. He was so happy. Why was he happy all of sudden? Now he couldn't remember what would happen in the end, but the instinct was still there as if a fraction of his lethargic consciousness held on. He continued staring up and noticed an actinium-blue digital clock reading 20:58, circa 2044. Something bad would happen in two minutes.
Steve was encased in a pod away from his grieving parents by its side who leaned and weeped on the glass roof. It was 20:59 and some form of sedative gas seeped in from his head side. His movement was tightly restricted. He wriggled and writhed. He screamed at his parents, hoping they would hear a slight crack in the air. They just sat there mourning. His vision was blurred once more; his energy was sapped within seconds; his will to break free fumbled by closing time. He was slipping away from this moment back to the unknown he had always feared: the endless night.
He slept in a gravestone. Bedtime had control.
Steve recovered freshly seated in a wide, dim room reinforced with steel beams and low hanging lamps. He looked around to see all of his friends and family surrounding him amidst a soft, quiet atmosphere. With his memories intact, he was in the middle of his eighth birthday party, adorned with party hats, confetti and colourful presents hidden underneath the glass table that presented a scrumptious rich, vanilla-frosted chocolate cake.. He examined what he wore – a turquoise shirt and jeans, but he noticed a new digital watch. It claimed the time to be 11:42 pm, 2040. He observed the silence and figured they were waiting for him to blow the lit candles out.
He felt confusion and proud at the same time. Why did he feel awkward at his birthday party, which he had waited for four years now? There was no problem with anything in the world so why would he be worried? Will something terrible happen?
Just before he began to extinguish the candles, by the tip of his ear did he notice a murmur behind. He intentionally kicked at the one of the presents before slumping to return back its position. He eavesdropped closely. His father was on the phone.
'...Another missile? How long till... but what about my brother...' He paused in distress.
He then hissed out, '...Encrypted code? Twelve digits? But he carried it... He was kill-?'
Steve sat up straight and shot a brief glance at him who grasped his forehead with his left palm. He settled quickly and pulled a smile in reply, gesturing Steve to continue on his party. Steve turned to see the rest who didn't bother. They were impatiently focused on recording him finishing off the candles.
The watch struck 11:50. He suddenly chose to fight back the distractions of tragedy and inconvenience of his father. Something would happen in the end, and he couldn't change that. Even with his memories reassured, he felt this was his last birthday to celebrate with everyone he loved, for happiness in the present mattered the most.
Poignantly, the candles were blown. Midnight had darkened.
From a deep sleep, he woke up. A small clock on a birch end table read one twenty-three, and the only light Steve could see was a dim bedside lamp, for beyond the satin curtains was a new moon. He found himself lying down on his parent's bed with a large blanket and pillows hugging him late at night. However, his mother and father weren't there sleeping with him. He could see a tabletop monthly calendar with crossed out dates. February 29, 2036 was left unchecked – his birthday.
Suddenly, the bedside lamp shut off with the air conditioning, making the room completely dark and silent. Immediately he screamed out for mom and dad, shuddering in the safe confines of the large bed. No one answered.
He couldn't fall back asleep for he feared the shadows lurking. It didn't take a while before he felt quite warm and short of air underneath the covers. If he gave up and exposed his stiff body to the cooler space, he would face the unimaginable apparitions that would frighten him to death. Otherwise, he could suffocate as it was getting harder to breathe. He had no choice other than to search for his parents outside. With closed, tearful eyes he flipped his comfort wildly.
Walking around blind while shouting out their names was horrible. He could hear phantoms and ticking everywhere once the echoes died down. He trod on the verge between panic and retreat, intermittently tripping or painfully stubbing into large objects. Surely there would be no way to navigate back.
The journey ended with Steve bumping into what seemed like a metal wall. At once, the darkness enlightened. He opened his eyes to see the ceiling light spotlighting papers clinging to a refrigerator. He couldn't understand some titles, including a few which were transfers of his uncle to the nuclear logistics unit, some news of soldiers burning their old uniforms in response to some ceasefire, and a grocery list. There also laid a marker whiteboard that wrote “Reserve Steve's party at 2 AM.”.
Then the front door opened with a heavenly light. Dawn had arrived.
Steve opened his fragile eyes to his loving mother who rocked him side to side. He was aware but unable to speak or think clearly. There were no memories left; he was at the beginning. He curiously observed everything indescribably new around him. There was a circular thing on a pinkish-red wall with two lines, the longer pointing up and shorter down.
He noticed his father and another standing at an open door, both wearing the same thing. They were teasing each other, putting arms around the other. Then the latter picked Steve up, who examined some text integrated into his shirt, “MARKUS181111”. What could they mean? He decided to imprint them closely. Perhaps they were important in the future.
For hours, he was tenderly cared for until he dozed off. Throughout Steve understood the meaning to love and to be loved as an infant. He learned how to be just as human as the rest of his kind. He had been blind for so long – he lost his humanity to recover memories he lost. In the reality he faced now, he learned to fight towards freedom, to fight in happiness and to fight with courage.
His survival was for all the new-found love of his family. Morning had passed.
Steve opened his eyes to the sun shining over the lush, vibrant valley congregated by all the animals and birds he had ever seen. Cracks on the ground were restored pristine. The skies were revived back to blue. By reflecting the past, he had transfigured the future. He was grinning in rapture after saving his memories and humanity. All he needed was time.
However, he turned around to find the pod of his vision; its glass roof was broken. Beyond that, he witnessed the mossy ruins of his home city. Noon had won.
Hello! Sorry I haven't been posting because of my studies. I wanted to create more projects but artist's block is getting the best of me... This blog is just another local competition entry (not from PMC, but related to my other blogs.) which I won't disclose. I felt I wanted to share this, but with a few changed words not to match the actual entry for safety reasons.
Actually noticed I wasn't supposed to put jukebox music in a PMC blog contest, and I got disqualified for that, awwww.
Welp enjoy the story :O
If you liked this story, give it a diamond! If you want to see more of my work, subscribe!
Jukebox Music
A timid adolescent boy had survived a fiery apocalypse. Before him the remains of a once lush, vibrant valley bled out its precious remnants of ecosystems and plant life – crumbled dry earth dotted with dark stumps and ashen spruce trees engulfed in flames. The skies overhead were shrouded and blanketed. The hazy air veiling his vision also constricted his small puffs of breath. The watch he wore was stuck at 12:00 with the date unreadable. He feared night was infinite; there was no way to wake up, nothing to hope for and no memories to embrace.
He couldn't remember how he had got here alive. No matter how hard he forced his empty mind to revitalise his past life, he did not have any idea of who he was besides his christened name Steve. The only memorable features about himself were a torn turquoise shirt, ripped denims and scruffy brown hair. Without his memories, he had no purpose to live the second chance that was plucked away from the rest of his kind; he was no human.
Steve remained still and gradually closed his eyes. As long as he continued his monotonous breathing, he would remember the depths of this short life. He concentrated hard through shutting down all his bodily systems. He endured the radiation melting his heart only to reflect. He betrayed his sole survival to live in the past.
Let the hellfire consume him. All he needed was time.
The faint red glow on his eyelids faded to a blurry image of a man and a woman – his parents? They had an amalgamation of warm, wrinkled smiles and streaming tears. Upon the sight, all of Steve's memories returned to him like wildfire – his childhood years spent with his family. He was so happy. Why was he happy all of sudden? Now he couldn't remember what would happen in the end, but the instinct was still there as if a fraction of his lethargic consciousness held on. He continued staring up and noticed an actinium-blue digital clock reading 20:58, circa 2044. Something bad would happen in two minutes.
Steve was encased in a pod away from his grieving parents by its side who leaned and weeped on the glass roof. It was 20:59 and some form of sedative gas seeped in from his head side. His movement was tightly restricted. He wriggled and writhed. He screamed at his parents, hoping they would hear a slight crack in the air. They just sat there mourning. His vision was blurred once more; his energy was sapped within seconds; his will to break free fumbled by closing time. He was slipping away from this moment back to the unknown he had always feared: the endless night.
He slept in a gravestone. Bedtime had control.
Steve recovered freshly seated in a wide, dim room reinforced with steel beams and low hanging lamps. He looked around to see all of his friends and family surrounding him amidst a soft, quiet atmosphere. With his memories intact, he was in the middle of his eighth birthday party, adorned with party hats, confetti and colourful presents hidden underneath the glass table that presented a scrumptious rich, vanilla-frosted chocolate cake.. He examined what he wore – a turquoise shirt and jeans, but he noticed a new digital watch. It claimed the time to be 11:42 pm, 2040. He observed the silence and figured they were waiting for him to blow the lit candles out.
He felt confusion and proud at the same time. Why did he feel awkward at his birthday party, which he had waited for four years now? There was no problem with anything in the world so why would he be worried? Will something terrible happen?
Just before he began to extinguish the candles, by the tip of his ear did he notice a murmur behind. He intentionally kicked at the one of the presents before slumping to return back its position. He eavesdropped closely. His father was on the phone.
'...Another missile? How long till... but what about my brother...' He paused in distress.
He then hissed out, '...Encrypted code? Twelve digits? But he carried it... He was kill-?'
Steve sat up straight and shot a brief glance at him who grasped his forehead with his left palm. He settled quickly and pulled a smile in reply, gesturing Steve to continue on his party. Steve turned to see the rest who didn't bother. They were impatiently focused on recording him finishing off the candles.
The watch struck 11:50. He suddenly chose to fight back the distractions of tragedy and inconvenience of his father. Something would happen in the end, and he couldn't change that. Even with his memories reassured, he felt this was his last birthday to celebrate with everyone he loved, for happiness in the present mattered the most.
Poignantly, the candles were blown. Midnight had darkened.
From a deep sleep, he woke up. A small clock on a birch end table read one twenty-three, and the only light Steve could see was a dim bedside lamp, for beyond the satin curtains was a new moon. He found himself lying down on his parent's bed with a large blanket and pillows hugging him late at night. However, his mother and father weren't there sleeping with him. He could see a tabletop monthly calendar with crossed out dates. February 29, 2036 was left unchecked – his birthday.
Suddenly, the bedside lamp shut off with the air conditioning, making the room completely dark and silent. Immediately he screamed out for mom and dad, shuddering in the safe confines of the large bed. No one answered.
He couldn't fall back asleep for he feared the shadows lurking. It didn't take a while before he felt quite warm and short of air underneath the covers. If he gave up and exposed his stiff body to the cooler space, he would face the unimaginable apparitions that would frighten him to death. Otherwise, he could suffocate as it was getting harder to breathe. He had no choice other than to search for his parents outside. With closed, tearful eyes he flipped his comfort wildly.
Walking around blind while shouting out their names was horrible. He could hear phantoms and ticking everywhere once the echoes died down. He trod on the verge between panic and retreat, intermittently tripping or painfully stubbing into large objects. Surely there would be no way to navigate back.
The journey ended with Steve bumping into what seemed like a metal wall. At once, the darkness enlightened. He opened his eyes to see the ceiling light spotlighting papers clinging to a refrigerator. He couldn't understand some titles, including a few which were transfers of his uncle to the nuclear logistics unit, some news of soldiers burning their old uniforms in response to some ceasefire, and a grocery list. There also laid a marker whiteboard that wrote “Reserve Steve's party at 2 AM.”.
Then the front door opened with a heavenly light. Dawn had arrived.
Steve opened his fragile eyes to his loving mother who rocked him side to side. He was aware but unable to speak or think clearly. There were no memories left; he was at the beginning. He curiously observed everything indescribably new around him. There was a circular thing on a pinkish-red wall with two lines, the longer pointing up and shorter down.
He noticed his father and another standing at an open door, both wearing the same thing. They were teasing each other, putting arms around the other. Then the latter picked Steve up, who examined some text integrated into his shirt, “MARKUS181111”. What could they mean? He decided to imprint them closely. Perhaps they were important in the future.
For hours, he was tenderly cared for until he dozed off. Throughout Steve understood the meaning to love and to be loved as an infant. He learned how to be just as human as the rest of his kind. He had been blind for so long – he lost his humanity to recover memories he lost. In the reality he faced now, he learned to fight towards freedom, to fight in happiness and to fight with courage.
His survival was for all the new-found love of his family. Morning had passed.
Steve opened his eyes to the sun shining over the lush, vibrant valley congregated by all the animals and birds he had ever seen. Cracks on the ground were restored pristine. The skies were revived back to blue. By reflecting the past, he had transfigured the future. He was grinning in rapture after saving his memories and humanity. All he needed was time.
However, he turned around to find the pod of his vision; its glass roof was broken. Beyond that, he witnessed the mossy ruins of his home city. Noon had won.
Hello! Sorry I haven't been posting because of my studies. I wanted to create more projects but artist's block is getting the best of me... This blog is just another local competition entry (not from PMC, but related to my other blogs.) which I won't disclose. I felt I wanted to share this, but with a few changed words not to match the actual entry for safety reasons.
Actually noticed I wasn't supposed to put jukebox music in a PMC blog contest, and I got disqualified for that, awwww.
Welp enjoy the story :O
If you liked this story, give it a diamond! If you want to see more of my work, subscribe!
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BTW its rad here xD