The Fall of Us

©Molly Looby CampNaNoWriMo '14 !

Enter the world of Tye. The Fall has devastated much of the world as we know it but Tye knows nothing else. He and his best friend Eeli are ready to leave their home as soon as they reach thirteen years so that they can be off on their own and be who they want to be and do what they want to do. At last.

Tye and Eeli could never have imagined how dangerous the real world was going to be.

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Eeli falls asleep soon after that. I stay where I am so I can feel her next to me. Phee crawls closer half asleep soon after an they’re almost curled up together. Yesterday I would’a done somfink about it but today I wanna leave em be. Nimmo wakes up an comes to lay next to me, closer to the fire. There we all are, four in a row, lookin like the best friends in the world. We could be. Maybe soon we will be.

I start fiddlin wiff my swift nife as I stare into the fire, pullin it outta my pocket to look at. I flip out the corkscrew an start tryin to rite my name in the ground. I can do the first letter. The strate line an the line across the top of it but I can’t remember what the other letters looked like. I stare down at the weird shape I’ve made an I realise I don’t even know what it means. Not that it matters.

I run my fingers along the grains of my swift nife. It must be old cause nuffin’s made of wood no more, not really. Not small fings like this. Everyfin was plastic. Almost. Essept buildins o’course which were brick an steel. Plastic lasted better after The Fall.

Nat had always said the nife probably belonged to my father an was passed from father to son thru the generations, even before The Fall. I wunder how long somefink can get passed from one person to another. I weren’t even sure this nife had bin my father’s. There was no way of knowin. It dint matter. I dint know him an I never would know him. I remember nuffink about him whatsoever. Not a damn thing. I musta had a dad but I ain’t never spent much fort over it. When me an Eeli was little she was always goin on about her mother so I tried my hardest to remember mine. She ain’t never mentioned havin a father. But she musta had one too.

Why give a baby a nife? That’s what I most wanna know. The man who’d rescued me who I can never find to fank fort to pick up the swift nife an give it to me. It mite notta belonged to anyone. It could’a bin lost. It could’a bin his. Sometimes I wunder if it was meant fer me at all. I fink it just happened to be lyin next to where I was when I was rescued.

I fink if I was savin a baby I would’a taken the nife fer myself. Adults got more use fer stuff like that. What’s a baby supposed to do wiff a nife?

It was big of Nat to keep it all them years while I was growin up. But now I got it I dunno what I’m supposed to do wiff it. So far I just look at it an flick the blade in an out. There’s a bottle opener that’s useless now there’s no bottle tops on nuffink no more. A corkscrew which is better fer ritin in the dirt wiff, there not being many corks neither. There’s all these bits an pieces that got no use at all.

Just the nife part which I’ve used a coupla times. That’s the reason I keep the stoopid fing. That an you never know when you mite need stuff like this.

But sometimes, when I’m sittin like this, runnin my fingers down the ridges I can feel my dad wiff me, tellin me what to do. Stopid as that is considerin this probably weren’t even his.

At least I know the truth in it. It’s nuffink special an it’ll never make me closer to him.

Not like Eeli an her song.

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