Before we began, I want to make sure everyone is reading this for free because I surely want it to be so.
So if you paid even a single coin for this then you must be at the wrong website.
Well. Let's jump into the story.
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Crackle Crackle
" To push me this far. You must surely be a good fighter my friend. How about joining me instead?"
Standing on a tower that has pierced through the skies, two people standing opposite eachother on two corners, sitting over a ledge.
The one who suggested was skinny old man with a skin as bright as paper, a cane in his hand while he gazed over the horizon from high above.
The other was man with no name, no age and no face, for all he once was is already lost. Now he is nothing more than prisoner, a prisoner who couldn't die even if he wanted.
The faceless man slowly raised his hollow abyss like eyes, Looking at the Old man with one last glance before flipping over the ledge.
" Another failure." He muttered.
The man showed no emotion but disappointment, like a puppet with a goal that seemed close yet unachievable at all.
Like a falling rock. The man had plunged himself to death, yet he showed no fear because as far as he was concerned, death wasn't the death of journey and nor of his suffering.
???: Reset no. 1129. Maybe it will end next time.
And then the man was splattered into the ground, reduced to a bloody mess on a lowly floor of a ruined city that the man himself had thrown into chaos.
This is a story of man who became a prisoner of eternity and his journey to go beyond and end it all just for a moment of peace and silence that he wished for.
~
Over a thousand resets ago.
-Reset no.1-
A single boy was watching over the endless desert of sand ahead of him. Hungry, starving and skinny beyond normal, the child was waiting for someone.
However the boy wasn't alone, there were hundreds like him there. The old, the young and even the half-dead and the sick.
These people are called outcasts for they dwell in lands long abandoned by most. Citizens of a resourceless land that had neither food nor minerals to fed them.
To these people, there was no survival on their own. So instead they turned to working for others, taking jobs that nobody else wanted to all for the same of people who owned the rich lands they could only think about.
Now one must ask a question, wh--
"Shut up. It's the damn skies alright! Those bastards live in the f***ing skies." The kid beside me said to me.
That was very rude of you to interrupt me.
"Shut up and hand me the pen you geezer. I will write a story worth writting in your place instead."
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Ah. So this is the feeling of being the narrator eh? I wonder if someone will even read this story but who cares. In the end it's the characters that matter that make it up.
Umm. So where was I anyway? Ah right. I am Dugen.
Born in these pathetic village, surrounded by nothing but these hopeless slaves, I have always hated everything around-. Wahh.
" You really like ruining my book don't you? I guess I will have add your name to the dialogue now." I said as I sighed, reluctantly adding his name to the text now.
"What's that?" He asked me. Confusion visible on his face.
"You see these words I write before I write your words? That's dialogue." I pointed out the text to him
" It feels funky."*He turns me with a smile* ,"I like it!"
" Now leave me alone for a moment. I will go take a look at the contractors this time."
"Ye ye Whatever. Just go lick the toes of those cocky guys in their giant cities." Dugen said to me and left.
Then we both left my house. Maybe I will write about this next time.
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"But he never wrote a word in it again. For a corpse needs neither a pen not a paper. But since I have come this far and if someday someone reads this book. I will write in it everything I see."
I halt for a second, a tear falling from eye to the paper as i write a single phrase as a title on the next page.
DUGEN. THE LAST OF THE OUTCASTS
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" It has been three days since the incident...and here I am writing this shamelessly while munching on some wild scorpions." I recited as i wrote.
My hands are swollen, my feet are bleeding in pain. I am hungry like hell and there is dozens of people behind me.
I found a cave after three days of running, a cave beneath a mountain of trash that the people of the city have piled all over the wastelands.
There is nothing but plastic and something that the city folk cement down here. Yet here is the only shelter I found from those bastards.
"They killed everyone. From the village's famous snitcher taboo to the old geezer Thams. Everyone died. All except me."
I began talking to myself, only to hear rustling voices above as the heaps of waste began moving, flooding into the cave like a tsunami as I jumped away and escaped deeper.
" Why am I even writing this on death's door? I just escaped being crushed to a pulp for god's sake." I thought out loud.
Right now i felt like I was going to die anyway. But in case i lived, I decided to mark the book with plastic cap and pocketed it before moving deeper.
Page 12
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" I died. I fu***n died! Then why the hell am I still alive? I remember how I got crushed into a bloody paste. How I got turned to fertilizer underneath a mountain of rubble. Then why am I here?" I asked myself this question.
I had opened my eyes again, finding myself staring at my book once more as if I never left to began with.
The same cave entrance, the save collapsed exit that blocked my way out. However for some reason I knew what was going to happen if I went down this path.
There was a pond underneath, a real pond with a tree growing in it. I have only heard of them in stories but here it was hiding in plain sight.
Yet I felt a fear like no other, for there was two headed beast with shiny grey claws that had already tore me apart to be his meal.
I didn't knew how I got back here. I didn't knew what brought me back. However for all I care, I want that tree to myself even if it's the last thing I do.
Starving and injured, I turned to the pile of trash blocking my way. Gathering specks within it whether they be broken glass or half rotten wood, everything is valuable for me, everything is a potential weapon.