Wolf in the Rain
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- 16
- Years
- Age 32
- live?
- Seen Sep 13, 2024
(Hey guyz. Wolf here. Feeling depressed/bored, so thought I'd give this story I've been thinking about writing a try. Tell me what you think! Keep in mind, this is only a Prelude, so hopefully there will be more to come :3)
The Great One produces the two pole, which in turn give rise to the energies of the dark (yin) and the light (yang). These two energies then transform themselves, one rising upwards, and the other descending downwards; they merge again and give rise to form.-(Lu-sih ch'un-ch'iu - Spring and Autumn Annals)
Dust. All I can see is dust. Everything around me is dust. Was it always dust? I do not know.
The wind. That brutal force pushes against me, sending chills down my spine and freezing my existence in place. I tightly grip the tan cloak draped over my shoulders, bringing it closer to my body in a vain attempt to shield myself from the icy gale.
The crescent moon shines brightly overhead, giving the sand we walk on a white sheen. My eyes have long adjusted to seeing in the dark. The sun never rises, not anymore at least. Some say the blasts stopped the earth still, condemning one side to a brutal, world of lava, and the other, a world of darkness and ice; still, others believe they blew the sun right out of the sky. But I know that's not true. Others may not be able to see it, others may not believe me, but I can see the sun in our moon. It's alive, waiting for us- for me to escape this world of ice, to reach twilight.
What is twilight? A paradise. A place of salvation. A place where people can live freely. It's where people are not limited by the moon or the sun but are aided by both. It's where humanity can thrive. It is a perfect balance between the world of ice and the world of fire we have created.
I hold open my palm, looking into the mirror fragment which I hold, my own gold-eyes staring back at me, obscured only briefly by my black hair which dances in the wind, having grown too long at the front. I can only look into the mirror for a second more before I clench my eyes tightly, forcing back the memories it brings. Gripping it tightly, I bring my arm back, ready to throw the accursed memorabilia away.
But as always, I cannot.
I come from a settlement, hidden underground. Both me and it born after the war that made the world what it is today. What little I know about it comes from the elders, living relics to the world that used to be.
We had everything in that colony. Water, food, warmth; everything you need to survive. I know, if it was so great, then why did I leave? Two reasons actually. One: I wanted to. Two: I was exiled. That's right, kicked out of my own home.
But I'm not the first to be.
My old settlement was not meant for growth, not meant to sustain the population it had come to acquire. Worry quickly turned to chaos as food supplies began to dwindle and shortages appeared. Neighbor turned against neighbor, friend against friend, our colony soon became as harsh and unforgiving as the world above.
That is, until he took the stage.
I can still see him, his narrow face, slanted eyebrows, his toothy grin, and his orange eyes, always fixated on everyone at once. He appeared one day out of the desert. No indication where he was from, no explanation either; he just showed up. Par our custom, our elders accepted him with open arms; those idiots.
The man proposed a solution: Whenever the population became too high, we would hold a lottery. The so-called "winner" would be exiled from our village, forced to fend for themselves on the desolate world of the surface, out of the people's sight, and out of their mind. The desperate people took these words to heart, not fully knowing the consequences of this decree until they saw it firsthand. They all watched, day after day, hour after hour, as everyone, the young, the old; friends, neighbors, sons and daughters, were all taken up to the surface. Never would they be able to see them again.
And finally, as I reached my 150000th hour on this world, a benchmark for all, my name is selected. Without another word, without the ability to say goodbye to the ones I care for, the loves I have now lost, the things I have left undone, I was whisked away.
So here I am, walking against the freezing wind, guided by the crescent moon, dust flowing everywhere, everywhere is barren. I am alone. There is nowhere for me to go, except to twilight.
To be continued…
Prolouge
The Great One produces the two pole, which in turn give rise to the energies of the dark (yin) and the light (yang). These two energies then transform themselves, one rising upwards, and the other descending downwards; they merge again and give rise to form.-(Lu-sih ch'un-ch'iu - Spring and Autumn Annals)
Dust. All I can see is dust. Everything around me is dust. Was it always dust? I do not know.
The wind. That brutal force pushes against me, sending chills down my spine and freezing my existence in place. I tightly grip the tan cloak draped over my shoulders, bringing it closer to my body in a vain attempt to shield myself from the icy gale.
The crescent moon shines brightly overhead, giving the sand we walk on a white sheen. My eyes have long adjusted to seeing in the dark. The sun never rises, not anymore at least. Some say the blasts stopped the earth still, condemning one side to a brutal, world of lava, and the other, a world of darkness and ice; still, others believe they blew the sun right out of the sky. But I know that's not true. Others may not be able to see it, others may not believe me, but I can see the sun in our moon. It's alive, waiting for us- for me to escape this world of ice, to reach twilight.
What is twilight? A paradise. A place of salvation. A place where people can live freely. It's where people are not limited by the moon or the sun but are aided by both. It's where humanity can thrive. It is a perfect balance between the world of ice and the world of fire we have created.
I hold open my palm, looking into the mirror fragment which I hold, my own gold-eyes staring back at me, obscured only briefly by my black hair which dances in the wind, having grown too long at the front. I can only look into the mirror for a second more before I clench my eyes tightly, forcing back the memories it brings. Gripping it tightly, I bring my arm back, ready to throw the accursed memorabilia away.
But as always, I cannot.
I come from a settlement, hidden underground. Both me and it born after the war that made the world what it is today. What little I know about it comes from the elders, living relics to the world that used to be.
We had everything in that colony. Water, food, warmth; everything you need to survive. I know, if it was so great, then why did I leave? Two reasons actually. One: I wanted to. Two: I was exiled. That's right, kicked out of my own home.
But I'm not the first to be.
My old settlement was not meant for growth, not meant to sustain the population it had come to acquire. Worry quickly turned to chaos as food supplies began to dwindle and shortages appeared. Neighbor turned against neighbor, friend against friend, our colony soon became as harsh and unforgiving as the world above.
That is, until he took the stage.
I can still see him, his narrow face, slanted eyebrows, his toothy grin, and his orange eyes, always fixated on everyone at once. He appeared one day out of the desert. No indication where he was from, no explanation either; he just showed up. Par our custom, our elders accepted him with open arms; those idiots.
The man proposed a solution: Whenever the population became too high, we would hold a lottery. The so-called "winner" would be exiled from our village, forced to fend for themselves on the desolate world of the surface, out of the people's sight, and out of their mind. The desperate people took these words to heart, not fully knowing the consequences of this decree until they saw it firsthand. They all watched, day after day, hour after hour, as everyone, the young, the old; friends, neighbors, sons and daughters, were all taken up to the surface. Never would they be able to see them again.
And finally, as I reached my 150000th hour on this world, a benchmark for all, my name is selected. Without another word, without the ability to say goodbye to the ones I care for, the loves I have now lost, the things I have left undone, I was whisked away.
So here I am, walking against the freezing wind, guided by the crescent moon, dust flowing everywhere, everywhere is barren. I am alone. There is nowhere for me to go, except to twilight.
To be continued…