AEIOUS STORIES
Read stories of adventures, mishaps, challenges, comical choices, and triumphs. Discover new places and people, unearth old legends and tales, uncover mysteries of magic and technology and the balance that keeps everything in order. Welcome to your world!
A FATHER'S TALE
OUR story begins with tears.
Tears borne out of fear.
Fear for our very lives as we ran, day and night to flee.
Flee the hatred of people.
People who believed we were lesser, who looked at us as animals.
I remember my father trembling as he held me tight. I was but a little boy. The fear in his eyes were obvious. Maybe his eyes were always like that. That's what I remember of him the most. Those big, strained, fearful eyes.
It has been several days. Days of running through the forest. Running from pursuers who never stopped, never gave up. It was many many days of hunger topped with fear. But my father kept us moving, he always tried. I remember how he labored to keep us alive. I remember his thin gangly hands pulling me, carrying me, hugging me. I remember his voice, his whispers, his songs. But his eyes always keep haunting my memories.
JUST ANOTHER DAY
I fly through the eff'ing bastard with full intent to smash his rib cage in. But the impact sends me bouncing back about fifty paces instead.
Darn. My arms hurt. What is this guy made of? I stand up and look at him. Surprised that he had already covered half the distance between us. For a tall guy, he sure is fast. And tough. I try to take a step forward and felt a blast of shock waves rip all over my body. I cover my ears instinctively. This guy is tough and fast. Oh, I think I said that already. Did I also say he is strong?
I crumple to the ground, dizzy, wobbly, but still conscious. I try to shake the effects off. I see blood dripping from my face. Darn, I think my nose is bleeding. Wait I have no nose! Not the eyes please, that would be freaking serious. Not the eyes please. I feel hands grab my hair and pull. I see the large bastard grinning. He is wearing a holographic mask that looked so weird it freaks me out. Says the guy without a nose.
ONE FRIDAY NIGHT
THE setting sun shed a large orange hue across the cityscape as the home bound rush hour traffic started to build up along the major thoroughfares, filling the business district with the usual noise and clamour.
Along the eastern end of the city, the orange light withdrew slowly from an old, forgotten, and abandoned area. The fading sunlight slowly crept away from old derelict buildings as shadows began to slowly hug the blighted structures across a section covering roughly ten square kilometers. The city's former business district now stood stolidly silent and void, staring blankly to the lively west as darkness engulfed her once again. The Bloc has been the site of an epic confrontation between a terrorist group and the nation's Special Forces some five years ago. The devastation was so severe and the experience so unnerving that the area has been cordoned off indefinitely. No one was allowed to go inside the area, no plans ever materialized for its reclamation. The memories of death permeated the place that it effectively kept most people away even with little enforcement.