Apocalypse Fair

My mother once called me her little angel, a moniker of the possessive love she had for me, her only daughter, her treasure. Now they call me "creature", expressing their remorse and curiousity as they call out my name.


They have come. Not the zombies, or the aliens, or the monsters we heard of in tales past. The Verum. The supernatural humans that fell victim of the devastating apocalypse, and have now turned against us. Modernised and superior, they do not remember who we are, nor where we come from. We are the mysteries, the animals: they cage us up, look into our gaze with their piercing, amber eyes, and treat us as entertainment.

Then one day, they take me to a circus. That's where I meet Dedrick.

If you can't deal with a strange amount of sci-fi, this novel isn't going to be for you.


1. The Apocalypse


It was all a blur. Waves of lights hissing around me, colours hazing in front of my unbeknowing eyes. I stood still, holding onto the sweat-drenched, frail arms of my mother, clinging quite literally for life. Tiles fell from our roof as we hid under the staircase, encased by rows upon rows of building materials: cement, bricks, flagstones - Dad was always a bit of a DIY man. He was at work right now, probably surrounded by his workmates, holding onto desks with computers above his head and shelves of paperwork falling right on top of him. Ava wasn't at home either, she was in school, spending her last, dying moments in the place she despised most in the world.       "It's going to be alright," whispered Mother, her voice crackling like the tiles from the roof as they hit the concrete floor. "We'll survive."    I clenched by eyelids shut to block out the world around me. If I could die, just right now, things would be so much easier. None of us ever thought this moment was going to come. And we weren't going to be alright, we were going to be anything but that.   "I know," I whispered back, lifting up the corners of my lips and forcing a smile. She concentrated her cocoa-brown eyes on mine.    "I love you." I nodded, mouthing it back at her.        We'd been in here for weeks. The walls were caked in dirt and the whole room smelled like urine. Our food samples were running dramatically low and we'd been forced onto one slice of bread a day, no jam, no butter. It wasn't even the bread you bought from bakery shops, it was made from grains we'd been given by the government in our ration hamper just before the Apocalypse began. It was greyish-brown and stuck in your teeth hours after you'd eaten it, clinging to the roof of your mouth and refusing to move as you swallowed, just to remind you that it tasted foul and all but the crusts were rotten. The room couldn't have been more than two metres wide and 3 metres long, and we didn't have room for any toiletries in here: we did our business in a huge glass jam jar before storing it in a plastic bag when we were finished. Vulgar, I know.       A bomb went off over the other side of the street. It was a good job our windows were boarded and the room structures supported, or else the nuclear waste and noise pollution definitely would have killed us. The bombs didn't affect me any more, I was so used to them. Just about every country was hitting another with their supply of nuclear weapons, driving down populations and killing innocent victim. Oh, and of course, there was famine. There were wars and riots going on right now. How else can a stroppy, hormonal teenager describe the end of the world?        Mother shook as the bomb vibrated through the foundations of the house and held me closer. She was bitterly cold and thin. Her chapped lips bled as she picked at the scabs and licked the blood with her tongue. I wiped a tear from her sodden face with a used tissue and hugged her tight, her lifeless body draping over mind. It was clear she'd given up hope.       The world was a wasteland, even the sky was a monochrome grey, only adding to the lifeless feeling of the world. Humans had no chance. We were just lying there, waiting to die. Mother prayed and prayed, rocking back and forth with her pearl rosary beads fumbling through her fingers. She whispered passages from the Bible into the musty air. I switched on my mobile, prepared to sacrifice its last few minutes of battery life to listen to the news. Stations were mostly offline, the same governmental message playing:   'Citizens of the United Kingdom, the world is currently under threat. At present, six volcanic eruptions have taken places, dispersing smoldering hot ash into the atmosphere. There are famines, particularly in third world countries where starvation has killed the majority; there are wars, and there are riots. Please prepare yourselves for the worst. We are curently doing everything we can to protect the human race. Board up your windows and do whatever you an to secure your house. If your children are at a place of public learning, please leave them there to ensure their safety. Nuclear weapons are being detonated, refrain from walking outside into the fresh air. We will update you as soon as more information is availab--"   The phone went dead, vibrating and showing its shutdown message before switching off onto the blank screen all together. We'd no longer be able to recieve any information from the outside world.   ***   I slept well that night. I remember trudging through a never-ending forest, following a minute particle of light through the trees. I wish death would have knocked at my doorstep a little later, because I never did quite reach my destination.   It was three a.m. when the world shook the entire population awake. I woke to find an fast-moving room, side to side, up and down. Mother held onto the handle of the door as she cried. The acid of her tears had eaten away at her face, making it red and swollen. For twelve whole minutes, we shook. Cars honked their horns; burglar alarms went off; sirens around the country sounded. This is what they called the Apocalypse. The End. Our final hours.    Building materials around the room thrashed about the cupboards, until the storage space gave in and spewed out its contents. Only seconds later, I saw it. The huge, concrete slab heading straight in the direction of my Mother's head. I tried to break its full, but the ground pulled be back, and with the brief halt I turned, only to see it smash straight into her skull. Thick lahars of blood teemed down her face and onto her neck, her skull was clearly broken. Her eyeballs rolled back and the lids flickered before she took her final breath. I knew she was dead. But I felt no emotion. It's pretty difficult to, when you know that in a few more seconds, you'll be dead with her. Our bodies lying in a pool of blood, never to be discovered. I was lucky I made it home from school to be with her.   An ear-blasting boom. Thick, hot lave came spewing in through the gaps underneath the slighly ajar door. I wanted to hurry to the corner of the room, hide from the produce of the Earth's mantle, but I knew it would bever work. Here it was. Knock, knock. This was death coming to visit me, but I wasn't prepared to twist the door knob and welcome him in.

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