Alone. Lost.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wanted to experiment with writing in.. a different kind of way? I have literally no ideas for plots, or anything like that, (except I had a really clear image of this in my mind/? I think it's partly based of My Chemical Romance's Na Na Na video, but who knows how things work in my brain) but I want to practice... the actual writing?? I don't know, I can't really explain it. This is honestly one of the best things I've ever written, grammar/technique-wise. I really tried? by the way, the beginning paragraph is a flashforward. if that wasn't clear?

Submitted: July 08, 2015

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Submitted: July 08, 2015

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His breaths were almost gasps. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins and he.. he was alone. That thought evoked more than the usual, everyday, manageable feeling of loneliness. This was something more, something bigger, something.. fatal. From where he was crouching, hidden, he could see everything. And there was nothing. Part of him thought that nothing was all there was ever going to be. All the possible solutions to his desperate situation ran through his mind at a dizzying pace. There was nothing useful in his mind, either. The ache in his shoulder grew almost parallel to his increasing difficulty to breathe. That, however, was nothing compared to his ever-present ache and hunger for hope. As the sunlight grazed the dust covered ground, he heard the sound that said it was all over.

 

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There was something oddly therapeutic about the sound of dragging feet on barren ground. Just as dusk washed away the greyish tinge that accompanied the daylight, it had also washed away all the possibility of hope in the deserted landscape, and the duo’s feet dragged more than ever in the pathetic moonlight. The sound did nothing to soften the desperate, hopeless feeling that came exclusively from being stranded in a  desolate wasteland. The fatigue had found ways to manifest itself in the form of dust and dirt that settled in the wrinkles and pores of the older man’s face; whereas the young man’s appearance was not so worn, he still wore an expression typically belonging to a man about triple his years. It had been mutually but wordlessly assured that both of them had seen better days. The silence that almost always cushioned the atmosphere between them was welcome, but not placed there by choice. The pair had nothing to converse about, besides how unbearable the ache in their feet was becoming, or how the desperate need water made them miss home.

“Home”. What a strange word for a place so unobtainable. A place so far away.

 

There was a gentle wind, which softly whipped grains of some unidentifiable yet elemental substance from the one part of the concrete ground to another, and it chilled them to the bone,. The younger man scuffed the toe of his well-loved trainers against the earth, his whole body stopping as it came into contact with something.He halted, dead, in the middle of the track, and soundlessly bent close to the ground and closed his fist around the alien object. The cold plastic pressed against the skin of his hand and the feeling of relief spread all over his mind. It appeared to be such a miracle, to find something so real, something so solid, something so sustainable in such a God-forsaken land. The young man found that his lips contorted into something that was close to a smile as he gazed upon the shard of black, shiny, seemingly useless plastic that he clenched tightly in his palm. Before the older man had a chance to look back and steal his moment of hope and sanctity, the younger man jogged to catch up, quickly protecting his treasure, concealing it in his pocket.

 

The pair grudgingly trudged along the unmarked path, keeping their eyes trained to the swirling dust around their feet. The cold bit at their fingers and noses, and the older man wiped the grit from his eyes in a systematic movement. Their bodies had become accustomed to the cruel weather, and it no longer registered in their minds. The younger man found comfort in dreaming of a time long past, a time when there wasn’t dust in his hair and black dirt under his fingernails. He kicked up clouds of dust, watching the glimpses of his hope settle back onto the concrete as he walked over it. A glance up to the sky concreted him into the landscape, the dark barrier of clouds told him that escape was virtually impossible. He sighed, earning a look of sympathy from his companion, and once again kept his gaze to his throbbing feet.

 

Without warning, a sharp, sudden sound cut through the air and the two men turned to look at each other and froze. Their eyes were wide, and they both knew what the sound meant. As the first trembles shook their bodies, they nodded at one another. The older man bolted as the other male scanned the area. There was nothing that could offer any kind of sanctuary, no matter how he strained his eyes. The empty scenery that had once looked hopeless now appeared threatening. Every gust of wind, and every leaf that detached itself from the impoverished trees to gently float towards the ground seemed malicious. The young man was aware that his partner had already disappeared. He was alone.

In a moment that ended sooner than it began, he saw the the thing he had been dreading.

 

So, he ran.

 

He ran until he saw a lone tree. He threw himself to the ground behind it. He ignored the pain of the blunt impact. His breathing became erratic. He prayed to the God he didn’t believe in. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, glad of the relief the darkness gave him. The wind affected his other senses more than was manageable and he was forced to open them again. He attempted to keep his eyes trained on where he had seen the black boot that ensured danger, but he was still searching.

 

Nothing. There was nothing. Nothing he could do, nothing he could have done, nothing that he could ever do. The situation he had been thrust into was inevitable, unavoidable and worst of all, inescapable. He felt the blood rush around his body, and that had nowhere to go either. The dust settled in his hair. A while ago, he would have cared. He attempted to shift his body weight, but the blinding pain almost made him scream out. There was nothing he could do but wait. His breathing did nothing to conceal his location. He dreamt of the past, of a time when his mundane problems meant nothing, when politics was a game and death was distant. He yearned for that. He spared a few thoughts for his partner, hoping for the best. But this was the one time he assumed it was okay to be selfish. The tears rolled down his face but he told himself it was the dust. He was strong, although he didn’t have to be. He was alone.

 

He heard it again. Strong, relentless footsteps. They sounded further away before. They were close now. Too close. He froze, again. His mind raced. What was there to do now? How could he get out? There was nothing. He braced himself for the worst, balling his hands into fists and burying them in his pockets. His fingers brushed a foreign object. He quickly pulled it out and saw the shiny fragment of plastic from earlier. He managed the same painful smile. He had placed so much trust on the one small item. He gazed at it. He imagined how the sunlight would have reflected from it. He wondered where it had come from. He focused all his attention on the man-made piece of hope. His fingers traced the edges of it. The sound of footsteps did not cease. Their owner was approaching at an alarming rate. However, the young man did not look up. He kept his eyes firmly on the tiny piece of plastic.

 

The greyish glow that the moon managed to cast over the barren wasteland was blocked by a strong figure. The young man looked up and saw the hole in the gun where the piece of plastic he was still holding onto had come from.

 


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