Our home is a shallow image of what it once was. Leaving everything behind to flee fills me with great shame, but what else was I supposed to do? Die there?
Sand was the last thing we thought would tear us apart. Being a planet of primarily snow and ice, sand and heat were the last thing that could show up. But God is a cruel, cruel man.
I remember it like it was yesterday. Scientists begged us to listen, to stop our elemental studies. But why would we listen to them? We had a vision, and by God we were going to achieve that vision. All we had to do was condense the radioactive mess underneath our feet. But of course, it went wrong. And of course, people think its my fault. Of course, of course.
And as I sit on this spaceship, cold to the bone, I loath everything about the future. Everyone wants me dead. But those people are dead, swallowed by the shifting sea of sand. And as I hold my five-month-old daughter close to my chest, I have to wonder.
How am I going to explain her missing mother?
Take up! Take sail! Take way to the land of sand and debris and everyone's fallen dreams.
Take one! Take two! Take all that you need when everything settles among you.
Take all! Take none! Take what you need, but know someone needs it more than you.
Take under! Take shelter! Take protection against the sweltering sun.
Take one! Take two! Take a movie or two, and pretend it's all just a scene.
Take up! And take sail! Because you'll never be able to breathe the air of the home you once claimed your own.
-This is my original story, I accidentally uploaded it to another account because I signed in with my email instead of my apple id-
Joel couldn't even begin to wonder why Maise asked him to watch her dad. An old, dementia-ridden sap who never shuts up about the tons of plants in his house. Joel wasn't into plants. Joel was into picking fights with people and laughing when they recoil back. But Maise is his friend, and Maise would probably kill him if he did anything to her father. But even if he were to do anything mean, well, he doesn't really think ol' John would even notice. Joel could call him something rude, and he would recoil, but then he would forget about it the very next moment. But he's on babysitting duty for the next eight hours, and he won't let this old man die.
"So, young man, what do you like to do for fun?"
Joel scoffed. Small talk much? Whatever.
"Me? I like to playfight my siblings."
"That sounds like fun. I like to tend to my plants," John smiled. "And I like it when dear Maise talks me on a walk."
"Sounds fun." Joel rolled his eyes. Kind of a lame response, he thinks. But, older people never really have hobbies do they?
"And I like to play Magic the Gathering with Maise, sometimes."
Joel stuttered for a second. Magic? The Gathering? An old dementia ridden geezer plays Magic the Gathering? Joel chuckled lightly. Yeah, he may have in the past. But no way in hell he does now. He didn't even know Maise played that.
"Magic, huh? What's your team like?"
"Mostly just a bunch of over time damage dealers."
"Hey, nice, that's fun. I personally got a lot of dark and fire-heavy hitters."
John snorted, and the long plants gently blew next to him. The sun circled his face, highlighting the aged wrinkles in his skin. He looked at his hands and grinned.
"So young man, what do you like to do for fun?"
"Testing... Testing... Okay! I hope this thing works. It'd be great if it did so I can use it in my English class... Oh! It's going. Okay, uh, uh, hi! My name is Piper, and this is my vocal diary. Mine. So if you have it, give it back! I live on the white dome near the park dome thing. I knowwwww whoooooo youuuuu areeeeee...
Just kidding.
Hmm... What to talk about. Oh! Paper. Haven't heard that word in a long time, have we? Oooooh, spooky. Paper. Paper. Paper. Paper. Paper. Paper. Paper. Paper. Paper. Paper. Paper. Okay, I'll stop.
I found this recorder thing in the basement of my house. I think this will be way better than trying to draw pictures. I can't draw to save my life. Pictionary is a bitch. Teaching children how to talk is hard when you can't draw the image associated with it very well. My mum is a great artist but bollocks, I suck. Dad's real good at it too. But not me, art is hard. The colors are dumb and the new floating pens that were released barely keep a charge. Whatever, I guess. I'm better vocally.
Uhm. I guess a diary is where you keep your big ol secrets, right? I guess old diaries were. Old paper books with written words on it. Sheesh, that feels kind of impossible. I've never seen a written surface, or text on a screen, or whatever the heck its called. That changed though. That changed today. I saw my Dad's old diaries. Okay, okay, they weren't diaries. But they were like, journals. That our great great grandfather wrote in. It was... weird. It talked about war and stuff. I didn't know what war meant until reading those journals. It was described pretty graphically. I've never heard of blood before. I knew it was in our body, but I didn't know it could be outside our body. I think that'd hurt. You know what else I learned? There are other languages to speak in! Yeah, and they look weird. My great great grandfather wrote something he called "Deutsch". He wrote some stuff like "Ich werde hier sterben. Hilf mir." Something like that. Must mean something about war and stuff. That's what the rest of it was about. War. War about, something about "Bücher" or whatever. Maybe its a place? I would ask Dad about it, but I'm scared. He could lose his job, I think, if his boss found out about this word stuff. His boss is mean. Ugly and mean. I should be careful what I say though, I don't know who could listen to this recording.
But, that's all I have to say, uh, diary thing. Gosh, I love old tech.
Uhhhh... Well, bye! Piper out!"
A fairytale character, that's what they call me. A fantastical, interesting character. Surrounded by flying unicorns and shapeshifting fae, but I was fantastical? The last human in that world was the most interesting thing they'd ever seen? I saw a squirrel morph into a dragon, but no, I am the most interesting thing. Sure. Humans aren't interesting. Humans don't have cool powers, though I know the sentient piece of candy thought my internal organs were pretty interesting. "You have bones! That's so cool!" Those bitter things? My bones, which have broken three times trying to keep up with the insanity of your world? But I am fantastic. Right.
But everyone else around me has that same issue. No powers. My shapeshifting accountant brother fae is missing. Instead its just. An old guy with a cane. Or the black-haired college woman, furiously pounding at the vending machine. Or the child wailing loudly, a bloody scrape of skin on his knee, just as fragile as me. I couldn't help but stutter.
Where the hell am I?
The room was illuminated with the dim flickering of cheap, Walmart-brand candles. Giant bowls of candy and chips were littered across the coffee table. A couple of beer bottles lay on their side, motionless on the floor. The screaming could be heard from two dorm rooms down, but very rarely did Finn have his friends over long enough to play a round of Smash Brothers.
It was tense- Adam was Duck Hunt, tossing frisbees like it was nothing. Michael was Mario, nailing out combos, whacking everyone off the stage, Cedric was Luigi, using luck on his side to ruin our day. Shane was Ike, swinging his gigantic sword and countering even faster. Finn was Ness, knocking out PK Fires like the annoying little shit he was. And Jarod, well he was Isabelle, using her fishing pole to fish off the edge. But hey, still fun!
The competition was tense. Five straight minutes of random grunts and screams from the 2014 TV, the TV with one busted left speaker, because Jarod refuses to replace it. The crackling sounded a lot like an old, busted Wii Remote. Finally, a loud noise was heard and a flashing red and white light appeared in the corner of the screen.
"Player 3, defeated."
Adam was out! He chuckled and flopped onto the couch, tossing the controller onto his lap. The fighting continued.
Shane went to target Cedric, walking towards his character. Cedric ran around Shane fast, tricking the location of his sword. Luigi charged his side B before realizing the grave mistake he made. Shane quickly unleashed his down B, a counter. Everyone's eyes widened watching Ike swing his hammer down, sending Cedric out with a blast of red and white, and the announcer once again blaring over the glitchy screen.
"Player 5, defeated."
"Man," Cedric sighed. "Good one, Shane."
"Shane does nothing but counter," Jarod barked back. "I don't think he even knows how to swing that sword."
Shane didn't say a word but wore a massive grin on his face. Finn could see Ike waltzing towards him, and he gripped his controller tighter.
"Hey, hey, hey," Finn warned. "Michael is the pro player, why are you coming after me?"
"Because I am tired of your PK Fires," Shane laughed, his character now running towards Ness. Finn flicked the joysticks around, spamming buttons to get the hell away from Ike. Shane all of a sudden became eerily aggressive, and Finn resorted to playing defense. Shane knocked Finn's character off the ledge, and as Finn charged up his PK Thunder to recover, Shane charged his sword.
"Don't do it," Finn muttered.
"Oh, I'm doing it."
Ness barreled to the stage, and with a sudden thwack, a large swing of the sword, Ike sent Ness shooting off the stage, with bright red and white flash.
"Player 1, defeated."
"Damnit," Finn hissed. "You suck."
"I suck?" Shane asked. "I'm still on the stage!"
This was it. Adam sat up from his lying position and the group had their eyes peeled to the screen. Shane started to do his gentle walk towards Michael, who was bouncing back and forth in the same spot.
"Are we going to get Jarod?" Michael asked. Shane shook his head.
"No way, Mr. I Won Second Place at my State's Super Smash Bros competition," Shane sneered. "I'm going to knock you off this stage."
"You can try."
Everyone's eyes were locked on the pair, Ike the heavyweight versus Mario the relatively speedy mediumweight. Michael stormed in, trying to land a couple of combos in. Shane smirked and countered, pretty much missing all of them. Michael didn't break a sweat, he backed away from Shane and began to toss some fireballs. Shane jumped, but being a slow character, he couldn't dodge them all. With a gentle hit of the fireball, it was enough to stun Ike, making him easy target for a relatively simple Mario combo, balancing him in the air. Michael sent Shane flying, juggling him for roughly twenty seconds before Shane did an Up-Air. Ike swung down, and landed Mario around 20% of damage. The fight was intense. There was no shouting, just the blare of this old TV and the flicks and rapid presses of controller buttons. Finn broke the silence, muttering, "Kick his ass, Shane," and everyone followed through. The room was rooting for Shane, chanting his name. The stage chanted too, "We like Ike, we like Ike," and the room joined in. "We like Ike! We like Ike!" Shane could feel the adrenaline rushing through his body. But he missed a step. Michael knocked Shane off the edge, and as he was recovering, Mario released a saved FLUDD from earlier. Ike flew back where he came, where he gently descended to the void below. Another flash of red and white.
"Player 2, defeated."
The room erupted in sorrow, cheers turned to boos, and then erupted laughter. Michael was undefeatable, even to this day. But the match wasn't over yet. Michael looked at Jarod.
"Hey, uh, are we going to fight?" Michael asked. Jarod didn't look away from the screen.
"Nope," he said, immediately making Isabelle fall off the cliff. The game faded to the victory screen, showing Mario as the winner. The rest of the player characters were clapping.
“There is something… Odd about him.”
I barely heard what the teacher was prattling on about. I was too focused on what my friend had whispered in my ear. Mr. Todd was… odd? Was this some kind of joke Liam was trying to pull again? Todd and odd did rhyme…
“Haha, very funny,” I sneered. “You’re so clever.”
“Okay dude, for once I am dead serious.”
“Dead serious huh? Am I supposed to believe that too?”
“Dude, come on, I—“
Before Liam could utter another word, Mr. Todd glanced at us. Without saying a word, he pointed at Liam and then pointed at the ground. As if mind controlled, Liam scrambled back down in his desk chair and put his wrists on his desk. I stared, dumbfounded. Liam isn’t the kind of guy to just… listen. Especially to an old, balding, math teacher. I couldn’t help but stare at Liam, thinking “dude what the heck are you doing?” But of course that didn’t matter. Because Liam couldn’t read minds. Nobody could read minds. Right?
“Jeremiah,” Mr. Todd quietly scolded. I felt my shoulders stiffen up.
“Liam is fine, now please stop talking before I send you down to in house detention.”
When I look in the mirror, I see my past.
My past is a silent killer, stalking me. I cannot remember a thing, but everyone seems to remember it all. People come up to me and clamber on, “Do you remember?”
I do not.
I do not remember what you look like, I don’t remember who you are. Do you really remember this? Or are you making it up too?
I stare at myself in the mirror, I see the Devil himself. His grin stabs me, and that is when I ask.
Am I the Devil? Or a child who made mistakes?
Clean air. Clean water. Clean environment. That was the slogan for EERP, the Environmental Educational Research Program. They were promising a cleaner environment by 2050. And well, they did it.
It was a simple solution really. Start allocating money to protecting our wildlife. Start using plants as a more eco-friendly method of achieving things. Filter the air out and circulate it back in. The world was bright blue and green again, and it took people taking climate change seriously. So what was the downside?
The dome, maybe.
