Medias of Destruction

I am living in a world controlled by corporations and industry, nothing is quite clear, nothing is okay. The choices that have been made by our forefathers are the spark of our demise. I'm left in this world to make what little difference I can, something I wish I could so do, but my one voice is powerless to the hypocrisy of our leaders. So I am a boy, a young child, lost in the smog and ashes of confusion and pain.

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1. After-Party

Issac had spent many hours as he'd been told cleaning his room, a common pastime for the child given his brother was always out and about and his parents were never home. Left with his somewhat insane and maniacal sister he was forced to behave at threat of a knife, which didn't even scare him at this point since it'd been done so many times before. As he rummaged through everything in his room he found things he'd forgotten he had due to his nature of collecting things that either held no importance or just random articles. His room was a collage of colours and varying shapes, an atrocious amalgam of absolutely ridiculous proportions. It was as if he'd found a way to contain a whole other universe in the confines of his room strictly made up of toys and blankets and pillows.

 Issac found a stuffed animal, the animal his mother had given to him three years ago on his birthday, the one missing and eye and had crude stitching down its back, but it was still his favourite. Issac found a small pouch filled with black rocks that clung to metal if they came in contact, they were shiny and always exciting to him. It was just a normal day for him, finding things he'd so frequently forget he'd had but greeting these objects with the same joy at which he'd received them. 

"Issac?" a small voice spoke from behind his bedroom door.

Issac looked up from his cleaning, he clutched the stuffed animal to his chest in all its ragged glory, his small body getting up and shuffling over to the oak door. Before he made it there he said with a cute smirk, "Who is it?"

There was a sigh behind a door followed by, " You know exactly who it is, just open the door Issac."

Issac rolled his eyes, keeping one hand clutching the mock-taxidermy to his torso, and opened the door slowly, "What is it you want sister?"

The girl standing before him wasn't ugly, in fact she was quite pretty. Her chestnut hair fell in slight waves draping over her shoulders. Her skin was near flawless save the riddled scars on her left arm and left leg. She had a playful smile on her face, her blue eyes surged with excited energy. Even though she was fourteen, almost three times Issac's age, she only stood about a foot higher than the boy and weighed even less. She asked him, "What do you want to do today?"

Issac's eyebrow raised in slight confusion, something he'd seen his brother do in similar situations, this was not a question she usually asked, in fact, had only been asked once before. Issac cocked his head, looking at her with oddity, the animal's ears tickling his chin, "I don't know, what do you want to do today?"

She rolled her eyes irritably, and muttered, "This is why you're no fun Issac, you don't know how to respond to a question, you're an idiot."

Her brow furrowed with disappointment and annoyance, she was an impatient person and Issac did truly have a fear of this small, chestnut-haired girl. So her quickly made up his mind, blurting out, "Hide and go seek."

Her face of disappointment became excited once more, her mouth curling into a smile, revealing a neat row of white teeth between two very red lips, "Okay, you go hide and I'll seek," she beamed.

He went over to his bed and carefully placed the animal on the quilted blankets, then Issac turned back to his sister and said, "Count to fifty, then come find me."

She nodded enthusiastically and then went over to a corner, closed her eyes and began to count.

"One, two, three, four, five..."

Issac had made it down the hall from his bedroom and paused to think briefly about where he should go and become invisible.

"Six, seven, eight, nine, ten..."

Issac realised he was taking too much time thinking and ran for a doorway next to the water closet which led to the attic.

"Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen..."

Issac ran up the stairs and pulled a string, turning on the dim yellowed light so he could see.

"Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty..."

Issac's eyes scanned over the vast storage space, he looked over towards the back of the room to where the boxes of his dad's old war stuff was kept, he sprinted lightly in that direction.

"Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five..."

Issace nestled himself in an alcove between two large boxes, one labelled Uniforms and the other labelled Arms.

"Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty..."

Issac jerked a bit, his arm got caught behind a box, and he struggled to get it out, his small body pushing and tugging away forcefully.

"Thirty-one, thirty two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five..."

His whole body tensed as he felt something, his arm that was caught behind the box felt something oddly like hair, something too real to be fake.

"Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty..."

Issac continued feeling about when he touched something slimy and sticky in the hair, a fly buzzed by his head and he heard the sound of a rat squeaking, "Rubee! Rubee!" he called for his sister frantically as she reached forty eight.

There was a sound of the rat and the fly as his hand stayed where it was and his whole body was frozen, then her heard her yell, "What in the hell could it be Issac?!"

There were a few more flies, their sounds gradually growing louder and louder, he responded, "Rubee, please!? Just come up to the attic, I need help!"

He assumed she groaned impatiently like she usually did when asked for help, but as the past had shown she came trudging up the stairs in a very begrudging manner. Her immediate reaction was, "What the hell is that sound Issac?!"

"Flies! They're everywhere over here!" he called out full of fear.

"Flies? Let me see." she said with disbelief.

She walked over loudly to where he was and looked at him, then asked, "Why is your arm back there?"

"I don't know, move some of these boxes, I touched something." Issac whimpered.

She impatiently moved a few boxes and Issac's arm was free, he moved his arm and looked at his hand, slick with a maroon-coloured substance, viscous and sticky. It stank of age.

Rubee's eyes widened as she saw what was behind the box, the ordinarily sadistic girl was confined with shock, her jaw dropped, mouth agape and blue eyes stricken with terror.

"Rubee, what is it?" Issac asked terrified.

In her sudden silence she pointed behind Issac, and he turned to look, his eyes widened, his pupils shrank and his entire body shuddered and cringed. What lay there was gruesome, what lay there was something seen in nightmares, what lay there was not something good at all.  "Mother... Father?" Issac moaned fearfully.

There, crumpled on the floor, maimed, deformed were the parents of Rubee and Issac. Maggots rolling out of the wounds, the many stinking wounds white with pus and slick with blood and dirt. The signs of pain evident, their mouths twisted and cut in many ways, the lips stretched beyond normal human capabilities. Their eyes were closed and stitched shut. And atop this pile, this pile of maggots, flies, rats and bodies there was a neatly wrapped parcel with a red ribbon. A note-tag attached read After-Party... Sobbing of the two children ensued... Issac cried... Rubee cried... And off in the distance somewhere a great clock struck the hour, Dong-ding-ding-dong...

(This was the beginning, my childhood interrupted by the death of my caretakers... My family... This was October 19, 2067; London, UK. And only the beginning.)

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