Bonds of Life in Guns
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Hello,fellow readers. I apologize if my grammaring isn't that great, but it's how I write. Again sorry.
I offer you a short story seen through the eyes by the main character(in other words everything is told in first-person PoV) placed in an apocalyptic world setting (not zombies.) featuring a little young master and his maid.
This is part 1. Give me about two weeks to finish part two. Meanwhile enjoy the first half of their story.
Okay so it took my nearly 2 fucking months. What's wrong with me.....
Well, I plan on finishing this short story so enjoy the 2 parts so far.
Edit:Turns the last half was much lengthier than I anticipated. Instead of the a two part, I'll make it into a three part story.
Part 1:
Part 2:
I offer you a short story seen through the eyes by the main character(in other words everything is told in first-person PoV) placed in an apocalyptic world setting (not zombies.) featuring a little young master and his maid.
This is part 1. Give me about two weeks to finish part two. Meanwhile enjoy the first half of their story.
Okay so it took my nearly 2 fucking months. What's wrong with me.....
Well, I plan on finishing this short story so enjoy the 2 parts so far.
Edit:Turns the last half was much lengthier than I anticipated. Instead of the a two part, I'll make it into a three part story.
Part 1:
Spoiler:
“Taria! You damn useless piece of trash!!”
“Yes! I’m sorry!’
The sounds of my suede boots and my black maid clothing flapping exponential sped up, closing the distance to my master. Tireless pants channeled through my mouth as I open a majestically designed wooden door. A pillar to light blinds my eyes for a second then expands to a greater length. A shadow, at the center of the blinding light, takes shape to a human standing upfront. I would say about two feet wide, and about 5 feet high. I know this shadow; this shadow resembles a chair, not a chair more of a throne, padded with the softest and bloody red cushion with golden carved frame. This is my master’s favorite chair. Without a second thought, I imaged a well-dressed boy with pure white collar shirt accompanied with a striped blue tie and dark emerald green dress pants. I’d picture his blonde hair with hair sticking upward and then bangs flowing towards the left side with his green eyes looking at me, as if I was an eyesore. Let’s see as for his pose; his right arm would be holding up his right cheek and his right ankle dangling off his thigh.
Low and behold, he is as I imagined him to be, in the exactly same picture I had in my mind.
I step forward and bow to my knees. “What is it, Master Steir?”
“Taria. I thought I told you to stay close to me in case you’re needed.”
“Yes you did, but the Head Master had me accompany some of his acquaintances to his office.”
“Tch damn old man.” He looked left, almost leering past into the many walls into his father’s office. “No matter. Are the preparations complete?”
“Yes. Luckily it was done just before the acquaintances arrived in the front.”
“Very good. Let’s go.”
“As you command.” I stand up and show him the way toward the door.
We both walk the long hallway, surrounding by piece of art. Vases, painting, white beautifully shaped pillars, holding the ceiling. No matter how I look into this building, I couldn’t help but still be amazed how I am inside this building by chance.
Not too long, we opened the glass doors to the outdoor back garden. Stoned walkways and an empty chair accompanied with coffee, toast, sugar box on a clear-plated table. Without haste, Master Steir walks toward the empty chair as I also hastily prepare his coffee and slice of toast. He always loved his coffee with a quarter of a cup of milk and 2 spoons of sugar and as for his toast, no butter and a sprinkle of cinnamon. ]I served his usual afternoon drink with my quick hands in a matter of seconds. He takes his mug of coffee and elegantly smells it and finally takes a small sip. He looks outside in the distance enjoying the air and the view. “A perfect day to be outside enjoying this view, don’t you think so Taria?”
I say nothing and share his view of the outside world. It disgusts me, the view, the smell, and the disaster this town took upon.
The results of a worldwide liquid-nuclear warfare. Everything we knew as a city was gone. Business buildings, homes, parks, streets, and the people are destroyed. Crumpled concrete piled up one after another, cars are no longer functional therefore abandoned filling the streets with scrap metal and half-baked engines, severely damaged homes and buildings. Everything man-made and naturally constructed is dead, aged beyond what anyone could imagine. As for the people…I’d rather not go into details after….that incident. Some are even lucky enough to have a rotting corpse. The prettiest corpse you can get in one melted to the bone. The haunting image ruined my will to look at the broken city we used to reside so I switched my view to the sky.
However that didn’t really help either. The once- beautiful blue sky that we admired now became a hideous sight as well. The murderous dark red painted the sky, giving it a nostalgic color of my past, the color of blood-stained dirt and rotting flesh.
I turn my head towards the ground, staring at the grayscale stone pavement. It’s quite strange that this mansion did not result into rubble during this liquid nuclear war. Sure, it might be at the highest hill on the town but still, the radiated pollution should’ve destroyed the mansion. Then a voice distracts my train of thought. “Look at them. Crawling around the dirt. Fighting to save their own lives, for their own survival in this mutated, corrupted and destroyed world we’re in now.” A chuckled smirk. “Wouldn’t say so, Taria?”
I stare into his amused expression, his eyes looking at other people as if they’re nothing more than maggots.
Fucking brat, don’t know shit about survival. Don’t even know what’s it is like to live every second in fear.
“I’d watch what you say there Taria. I know plenty about survival. Little do you know, I’ve survived living alone in the jungle, without any supplies but just one hunting knife. I've been to warzones myself, fighting against the Special Forces of another country with only a pistol at hand. The Battle in the Conflagration was such a great battle.”
Shit, I must’ve spoke my mind without knowing it. But, I’m surprised. The punk here knows a few little tricks here and there. The next thing I’m going to say might endanger my occupation here but my boiling blood could not stay still; it races through every vein and artery in my body in excitement. It hungers to release the war-like instincts like the good old days. “Shall we put that to the test?”
“Let’s not. Instead, I am going to put you to the test. Fulfill your job as a maid.”
I let out a sigh. This kid…I don’t know if he’s bluffing or actually stating the facts. Either way this is going to be a disappointment. My hunter’s blood calms down as I carry out my orders. I lift up my boot and kick the chair’s leg my son-of-a-bitch master is sitting on. As the chair skid about 4 feet away in a fraction of a second, the sound of air whip its way through my black maid skirt along with the maid apron, leaving 4 holes into my attire. It’s just a shame that the chair didn’t tip over as I intended it to and the little master sat there carefully maneuvering his body to that he doesn't spill his coffee. "Do be gentle next time please."
"Shut up."
Point sixty-five caliber sniper rifle. Too easy. Judging from the angle it was shot from, it was rather easy to locate the sniper. The asshole was about 370 meters away in a crumbled building high enough to aim at the young master. With my remaining standing foot, I spin with grace and elegance. All the while, I pull out a M79 grenade launcher under my maid skirt. My aim is perfect with my arm straighten out aiming at the dark red sky. Not even a smile, or the joy of hunting a pathetic mutated human was shown in my face; only the cold murderous glare and a disappointed frown is shown as I quickly pull the trigger. A small Thonk. The grenade bullet flies into the distance, up to the point where it disappeared for a short while.
“I think you missed.” Then a loud sip came through the obnoxious rich boy.
“Hmph. Nonsense.” An explosion with a diameter of about an inch and a half was seen from our distance. “Tch.” Turns out the bastard is crawling away from the smoke after that blast. All bloody and covered in cement dust and crawling away with his right arm and his remaining left leg. I miscalculated; I didn’t expect him to move that fast in the span of two second of me firing a grenade. An exhausted sigh escapes my mouth as I drop the launcher and pull out a simple silver-coated Desert Eagle from the apron and fired three rounds. Only a small barely audible death cry then silence remains.
“Heh~. They’re all safety kill shots. One for his remaining leg so he doesn’t get away, one for his head, and the last shot was aimed for the nec- no the spinal cord to ensure his death.” He crossed his legs and he takes another long sip of his cream coffee. “As expected from my lovely maid.”
I turn and walk away from him, back inside the mansion. “I have duties to attend to, so call me whenever you need me.” Even with my back facing toward him, I can picture him holding up a smirk, almost as if mocking my entire being. I close the glass doors behind me and continue to walk away.
A small sip once again. Steir looks at the blast smoke, examining the smoke. He then pulls out a silencer pistol under the table and shoots a few rounds in at the smoke. A small burst of blood squirts out from the smoke, leaving a shadow of some life form, something that no man seen before the liquid nuclear war. ”My naïve little maid,” He blows off the the tip of silencer.”Your old ways isn’t gonna work here. The essence of life is always evolving, always striving for survival. Whether it be beautiful as us non-mutant humans, or grotesque as those, every single being strive to live out their life fully and beautifully until they die.” He places the silencer flat on the table and grabs the crunchy toast and munches on its crust. “Ahh. Today is a beautiful day outside. I wonder how about tonight? Hehe I could hardly wait.”
“Yes! I’m sorry!’
The sounds of my suede boots and my black maid clothing flapping exponential sped up, closing the distance to my master. Tireless pants channeled through my mouth as I open a majestically designed wooden door. A pillar to light blinds my eyes for a second then expands to a greater length. A shadow, at the center of the blinding light, takes shape to a human standing upfront. I would say about two feet wide, and about 5 feet high. I know this shadow; this shadow resembles a chair, not a chair more of a throne, padded with the softest and bloody red cushion with golden carved frame. This is my master’s favorite chair. Without a second thought, I imaged a well-dressed boy with pure white collar shirt accompanied with a striped blue tie and dark emerald green dress pants. I’d picture his blonde hair with hair sticking upward and then bangs flowing towards the left side with his green eyes looking at me, as if I was an eyesore. Let’s see as for his pose; his right arm would be holding up his right cheek and his right ankle dangling off his thigh.
Low and behold, he is as I imagined him to be, in the exactly same picture I had in my mind.
I step forward and bow to my knees. “What is it, Master Steir?”
“Taria. I thought I told you to stay close to me in case you’re needed.”
“Yes you did, but the Head Master had me accompany some of his acquaintances to his office.”
“Tch damn old man.” He looked left, almost leering past into the many walls into his father’s office. “No matter. Are the preparations complete?”
“Yes. Luckily it was done just before the acquaintances arrived in the front.”
“Very good. Let’s go.”
“As you command.” I stand up and show him the way toward the door.
We both walk the long hallway, surrounding by piece of art. Vases, painting, white beautifully shaped pillars, holding the ceiling. No matter how I look into this building, I couldn’t help but still be amazed how I am inside this building by chance.
Not too long, we opened the glass doors to the outdoor back garden. Stoned walkways and an empty chair accompanied with coffee, toast, sugar box on a clear-plated table. Without haste, Master Steir walks toward the empty chair as I also hastily prepare his coffee and slice of toast. He always loved his coffee with a quarter of a cup of milk and 2 spoons of sugar and as for his toast, no butter and a sprinkle of cinnamon. ]I served his usual afternoon drink with my quick hands in a matter of seconds. He takes his mug of coffee and elegantly smells it and finally takes a small sip. He looks outside in the distance enjoying the air and the view. “A perfect day to be outside enjoying this view, don’t you think so Taria?”
I say nothing and share his view of the outside world. It disgusts me, the view, the smell, and the disaster this town took upon.
The results of a worldwide liquid-nuclear warfare. Everything we knew as a city was gone. Business buildings, homes, parks, streets, and the people are destroyed. Crumpled concrete piled up one after another, cars are no longer functional therefore abandoned filling the streets with scrap metal and half-baked engines, severely damaged homes and buildings. Everything man-made and naturally constructed is dead, aged beyond what anyone could imagine. As for the people…I’d rather not go into details after….that incident. Some are even lucky enough to have a rotting corpse. The prettiest corpse you can get in one melted to the bone. The haunting image ruined my will to look at the broken city we used to reside so I switched my view to the sky.
However that didn’t really help either. The once- beautiful blue sky that we admired now became a hideous sight as well. The murderous dark red painted the sky, giving it a nostalgic color of my past, the color of blood-stained dirt and rotting flesh.
I turn my head towards the ground, staring at the grayscale stone pavement. It’s quite strange that this mansion did not result into rubble during this liquid nuclear war. Sure, it might be at the highest hill on the town but still, the radiated pollution should’ve destroyed the mansion. Then a voice distracts my train of thought. “Look at them. Crawling around the dirt. Fighting to save their own lives, for their own survival in this mutated, corrupted and destroyed world we’re in now.” A chuckled smirk. “Wouldn’t say so, Taria?”
I stare into his amused expression, his eyes looking at other people as if they’re nothing more than maggots.
Fucking brat, don’t know shit about survival. Don’t even know what’s it is like to live every second in fear.
“I’d watch what you say there Taria. I know plenty about survival. Little do you know, I’ve survived living alone in the jungle, without any supplies but just one hunting knife. I've been to warzones myself, fighting against the Special Forces of another country with only a pistol at hand. The Battle in the Conflagration was such a great battle.”
Shit, I must’ve spoke my mind without knowing it. But, I’m surprised. The punk here knows a few little tricks here and there. The next thing I’m going to say might endanger my occupation here but my boiling blood could not stay still; it races through every vein and artery in my body in excitement. It hungers to release the war-like instincts like the good old days. “Shall we put that to the test?”
“Let’s not. Instead, I am going to put you to the test. Fulfill your job as a maid.”
I let out a sigh. This kid…I don’t know if he’s bluffing or actually stating the facts. Either way this is going to be a disappointment. My hunter’s blood calms down as I carry out my orders. I lift up my boot and kick the chair’s leg my son-of-a-bitch master is sitting on. As the chair skid about 4 feet away in a fraction of a second, the sound of air whip its way through my black maid skirt along with the maid apron, leaving 4 holes into my attire. It’s just a shame that the chair didn’t tip over as I intended it to and the little master sat there carefully maneuvering his body to that he doesn't spill his coffee. "Do be gentle next time please."
"Shut up."
Point sixty-five caliber sniper rifle. Too easy. Judging from the angle it was shot from, it was rather easy to locate the sniper. The asshole was about 370 meters away in a crumbled building high enough to aim at the young master. With my remaining standing foot, I spin with grace and elegance. All the while, I pull out a M79 grenade launcher under my maid skirt. My aim is perfect with my arm straighten out aiming at the dark red sky. Not even a smile, or the joy of hunting a pathetic mutated human was shown in my face; only the cold murderous glare and a disappointed frown is shown as I quickly pull the trigger. A small Thonk. The grenade bullet flies into the distance, up to the point where it disappeared for a short while.
“I think you missed.” Then a loud sip came through the obnoxious rich boy.
“Hmph. Nonsense.” An explosion with a diameter of about an inch and a half was seen from our distance. “Tch.” Turns out the bastard is crawling away from the smoke after that blast. All bloody and covered in cement dust and crawling away with his right arm and his remaining left leg. I miscalculated; I didn’t expect him to move that fast in the span of two second of me firing a grenade. An exhausted sigh escapes my mouth as I drop the launcher and pull out a simple silver-coated Desert Eagle from the apron and fired three rounds. Only a small barely audible death cry then silence remains.
“Heh~. They’re all safety kill shots. One for his remaining leg so he doesn’t get away, one for his head, and the last shot was aimed for the nec- no the spinal cord to ensure his death.” He crossed his legs and he takes another long sip of his cream coffee. “As expected from my lovely maid.”
I turn and walk away from him, back inside the mansion. “I have duties to attend to, so call me whenever you need me.” Even with my back facing toward him, I can picture him holding up a smirk, almost as if mocking my entire being. I close the glass doors behind me and continue to walk away.
A small sip once again. Steir looks at the blast smoke, examining the smoke. He then pulls out a silencer pistol under the table and shoots a few rounds in at the smoke. A small burst of blood squirts out from the smoke, leaving a shadow of some life form, something that no man seen before the liquid nuclear war. ”My naïve little maid,” He blows off the the tip of silencer.”Your old ways isn’t gonna work here. The essence of life is always evolving, always striving for survival. Whether it be beautiful as us non-mutant humans, or grotesque as those, every single being strive to live out their life fully and beautifully until they die.” He places the silencer flat on the table and grabs the crunchy toast and munches on its crust. “Ahh. Today is a beautiful day outside. I wonder how about tonight? Hehe I could hardly wait.”
Part 2:
Spoiler:
Stomps from my suede boots cover the silence of the hallways. A growling screech then echoes the west wing. One would be surprised that the sound came from me. The sound itself already reveals the emotions inside of me: humiliation, frustration, anger.
How dare that punk! I worked so long to keep up a straight face in front of him and now it’s all gone!! A big sigh. Even so, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that he tempted me to showing my true nature. Even if he did, how did he know? There was no way of him knowing since my occupation to this mansion was quite sudden so there wouldn’t be any time for him to do a background check of me beforehand. Even if he did a background check after, it wouldn’t be possible because I gave my profile stored inside a USB flash stick to the Head Master and seen him lock it away in a vault with 5 mutli-locks behind a bookcase, each with a different method into unlocking one tiny vault. Handprint scan, number-code, retina scan, voice recognition, and a dial. I can’t even imagine cracking the code to that vault. Besides there’s literally no point since the world has literally came to an end.
My legs continue to take me down the hall as my head is filled with thoughts and questions. I caught a hallway mirror with a golden frame almost as tall as me and a little bit wider than the ends of my skirt shown. My legs were about to take off on its own if I hadn’t gain back control and walk towards the mirror. I look at its reflection with many rays of glares cutting out parts of my body’s reflection. I take a step closer and gently place one hand onto the mirror’s face. The glares are now gone and I am standing in front of the mirror, naked of any light interference. I slightly skid my fingers across my face’s reflection. A scornful chuckle of my voice.
“Heh. How stupid was I? Thinking that my past life would be gone in a flash when I moved into this mansion paradise? I must’ve….” I couldn’t finish my sentence. The mirror’s sorrow and pitiful look forbids me to do so. Or is that sorrow and pity coming from me?
I’m…pitying myself? The mirror reveals everything about me almost as if I’m fully naked in front of this mirror. It’s showing everything about me that I’ve never want to show.
The mirror exposes my remnants of the past which is my very own body. I look into the replica of my face, and it looks hideous. Once I’ve enter the warzone, I have no privilege to keep my beauty as a woman. Many small but permanent scars left their marks across my forehead to my right cheek.
The battle scar I’ve received from the Battle Paradox embedded its mark clear as day. It’s a knife wound, however, the technique behind this knife wound was rather a unique one. It’s a technique where the enemy elite Russian soldier had me pinned down and used a knife to slice my skin off just like how a chef slice a thin piece of ham; however the cut was deep enough to cut into the flesh and rapidly leaked out blood. My face would’ve been unrecognized after the third cut if it wasn’t for my good comrade Raq.
The unremarkable battle scar of my face reflects itself to me. The two triangular scarred pillars, one longer and thinner than the other, stand side by side to each other on my left cheek. It’s been healed for quite a while, but the numerously stretched crevices of flesh and skin is darkly shown. I put two fingers on the mirror’s scars, hiding then so I can pretend I was that beautiful girl before I was sold off to be a war child. In the end, it couldn’t help after all. Once I remove my rough fingers, the two scars would show on my reflection once again, as if they’re an everlasting reminder that I can never escape my past and that I can never start a new life. I then attempt to hide my left cheek with my long bangs. No matter how I maneuver it, the two scars would still show. Looks like I can’t cover up my past either. I guess no matter what, people would look at me as if I’m some sort of crazed woman or some kind of woman who likes trouble. That thought alone made me gloom and I tilt my head downward as a sign of depression. I peek through my long bangs and noticed something black and white.
I look at my maid outfit and stretch out the skirt. I twirl around a bit, sending my three long fairly-thin braids flying in a semi-circle, landing between my left arm and breasts. A silent pause then a little smile grew. This maid outfit really helped me out didn’t it? The long-sleeved loose blouse hides away my stiff muscles; the skirt is long enough to even touch my ankles and even if my skirt is lifted up I have thick white stockings to cover up some of my burns during the Sky in Fire battle. To top of it off, I have the piano black suede combat boots received as a gift from the Head Master that took me in. This attire made me realize how fortunate I am to even possess clothes that hides away most of my battle wounds.
All this appreciation comes to an end when I hear a shout at the end of the hall. If memory serves my correct, that’s the direction to the Head Master’s office, located in the right wing.
“You won’t supply us just because you suspect us?!” A slamming sound. “That’s completely ridiculous!!”
I couldn’t help but be curious and head towards the office and eavesdrop a little bit. I approach the door and sharpen my ears’ senses.
"...You reek of them. You reek of those mutants crawling about this god-forsaken land we live in.”
The loudness of his voice already tells me he’s pretty ticked off. “Your maid did a full body check with us already! There were no signs of those mutant things growing inside of us nor does it leeching our lives away!! How dare you just accuse us being infected!! We are clearly showing no signs of it!”
“You are showing me a sign, pig. Your scent reeks strongly in this room. I will not waste our supplies on those who have the mutant beings growing inside their bodies. Now I believe our business here is done. My maid and I will see you out to the door. Taria! You may come in now.”
Just the fact that the Head Master knowing that I was eavesdropping startles me. Nonetheless I straighten out my maid skirt and open the heavily-lacquered dark wooden double doors to see the Head Master in his blazing red blazer facing outside the window and three men, one standing up with his fist on the table and two men sitting on the chairs presented to them. He has a physique of a fat, bald man wearing a dark gray collared shirt and under his left armpit I see a holster for his 6-chamber revolver. An angry police detective I assume. The other two look really similar to each other; perhaps they’re brothers. The one sitting on the left chair has an aloof aura around him, not taking the bargaining seriously. He wears a red vest and underneath a white long sleeve shirt, along with ripped jeans. He covers his yawning mouth and looks at me with lazy eyes. The last visitor adjusts his dark frame thin glasses then strokes his sharp chin, observing my presence. He wears a green dress shirt accompanied with a black and white striped tie, accompanied with black pair of slacks.
A quick scan is all I need to know. Without haste, I bow my head slightly, hanging my bangs. “Right this way, gentlemen.”
The police detective grunts and scoffs at my Head Master. “Fuck you and your petty little bullshit. I hope you’ll rot faster in this world than the rest of us.” He spits on the floor. Such disrespect to the Head Master; he deserves death now. I swiftly flinch my left arm to bring down a thin knife, hidden under the sleeve. But almost as if reading my mind, he simply called out my name. “Taria. Please escort them out the front door. I’ll follow along.”
I reluctantly keep my bowing posture and keep the thin knife hidden within my sleeve. “As you wish. Now, this way sirs.” I lift my arms to point the direction, serving as a guide to the flow of human traffic. The fat walking piece of meat grumbles then leaves with both his stubby wide hands in his pockets.
As he walks out, he shoots a short but hateful glare at me. Oh, how I would love to slit open his throat in a flash. The aloof one didn’t even show a speck of care how this turned out and just loudly yawns his way out. He shows as much disrespect as the fat lard did. I’d stick my desert eagle in his mouth and just blast away. The final guest walks by smoothly and whispers a message, “I’ll be seeing you soon, sweetie.” This one will be special... I’ll use that knife skill used on my face on his entire body, slowly stripping away his silky white smooth skin. Then smash his glasses into his eyes, blinding him for life.
The Head Master follows suit after the moment the four-eyes charmer left the room. I closed the wooden double doors and quickly follow my Head Master down the steps, finally opening the front iron doors leading those irritating men out the mansion.
The front doors are now shut, free from any outsiders. I quietly follow the Head Master up the exhaustingly long and wide grand stairs of the mansion. Before taking a step to the luscious beige carpet of the second floor, he stop and stare at a distance in the direction of his office. “Taria. How do you find this mansion after two months working here? Be honest with me please.” I couldn’t entirely see his face, only his flatten gray hair and a portion of his right side, just barely enough to not show his eyes. I still glance at the area his eye line should be, only seeing his cleaned shaved sideburns and the empty space of skin between the sideburns and his eyes.
“I’m quite fortunate to be here, Head Master.”
A dry, old hearty chuckle. “Please call me by my name, Taria. There’s no need to be formal under this mansion. After all, the age of human society has ended.”
“No, Head Master please!" Though to be honest, I never learn his name. I tried asking the young master Steir, but he just calls his grandfather "geezer." Quickly hiding the fact that I don't know his name, I blurt out"You picked me up despite how rugged and dirty I was, surviving in the world that should already be gone. Even though you went through my background, you wasted your limited supplies on someone else other than your own grandson, offered me shelter and food. You don’t know how grateful I am to live here under your services.”
I recall that day, the day when he found me in a run-down home, hiding under dirt-colored cloak. I was covered in wasteland dirt. New battle scars decorated my body even more. Living outside was literally boiling hell. The air was intoxicated with the nuclear aftermath smell. The only body of liquid was just the remains of the liquid nuclear war. Somehow, by some small glimmer of chance and hope, the Head Master was in a green Hummer car, one similarly resembling a tank without the cannon barrels. He opened the rear door, shouting an offer of an odd job: a maid. I swiftly choose the better alternative of living and accept his offer. During the car ride, he explains how he lives in a mansion on a hill, isolated from the contamination of the worldwide nuclear remains. Oddly enough, I had faith in his words and trusted my life to him. With great duty and responsibility, I performed the first few weeks to the fullest of my abilities, even though I had some stumbles with the young master Steir’s haughtiness and adapting myself to the daily maid duties.
He takes the one step to the second floor, slowly striding his steps. I follow his steps and paced myself with his movements. “Taria, this mansion doesn’t need someone like a maid but a bodyguard, a survivor. I know your war history with your profile. Battle Paradox, Friday Stalemate, Sky in Fire, Crimson Daylight, and so much more. You’ve lived through these battles, attained victory and managed to remain in one piece. I know how much blood you’ve taken away from, and the 26 comrades you’ve cherished so much—“
A sharp shriek of the word “Ah!” followed by a smashing sound of the white-painted stair rails. He stops his speech and I panic for a bit, not knowing what just happened. Several apologies of my sudden mistake streams out to the Head Master as I pile up several large pieces of wood on my arms. Only one thought multiplies in intense numbers in my head, How does he know about my family?
Normally, if anyone no matter who they are spoke of those 26 comrades I loved, they would’ve been beaten down to a pulp, spending a good amount of time in the hospital. What makes the Head Master any different? He should be on the floor bleeding and broken. Instead, I clenched my fists under the pile of wood pieces but not in anger but in sorrow and regret. Regret that I couldn’t protect them at all yet, all the time, each and every single one of them protected me. I’ve seen them die in front of me, looking at me with kindness, love and hope in their eyes. Just the image of their remaining moments in their lives broke my heart 26 times, enough to be depressed for months to come. I let my loose bangs hide my eyes and continue to follow the Head Master.
He continues on slowly striding to his office “We need that strength of love and commitment here, Taria. You loved those comrades dearly, I understand that. I can feel your sadness and pain without me looking.” He’s right. He has yet to turn his back and still head towards his office. What’s this feeling? It’s almost as if he personally knows me beyond whatever data given in the USB drive. “We need that commitment for your love, to show my grandson what you are capable of.”
I squeak out my voice, “But Head Master!” I can’t control my tears. They’ve already leak out and create two thin waterfalls. The flow of the two streams are heavy with feeling, thus streaming down my scarred cheeks. “I-…..I couldn’t do anything for them-“ Why is this happening? I shouldn’t be crying. I’m a soldier for war, straight out murdered thousands of men and yet here I am in this mansion, crying in front of the person who saved my life from the apocalyptic hell outside. I drop and pieces of the stair rails and use my white buttoned cuffs and black sleeves, alternating one and the other, to cease the flow of heavy tears. “They were the ones to did everything for-“ My voice broke. Words try to wiggle their way out of my larynx, but the overflowing sadness that suddenly appeared could not be stopped. Why is this happening to me? What’s going on with my body?
Then the unexpected happens to me. The Head Master latches himself onto me, with an aura so kind, so warm, and so gentle. What’s this feeling? His old wrinkled hands clenches onto the back of my apron, his head so close to mine with our ears almost touching. This is no sign of love. No, I’ve felt this embrace before very long ago. This is the embrace of family love, the one I share with my 26 comrade-in-arms. I let my emotions run free, no longer holding back the sudden sadness embedded in me. I wail into his chest, flooding with salty water. He held me tighter, “Its fine Taria. You did your best. I’m sure none of your comrades would’ve hated you. They love you so much and they were willing to give their lives away to save yours.”
“But still!! They left me alone! Alone in the battlefield. For someone like me, a war child sold by her own mother. Even knowing about that, they approached me.... treated me like family. Sharing laughs.... enjoying each other’s company isn’t an average veteran’s life. Raq.....He- he had a grandson waiting for him! He would tell me how cute and adorable his grandson would be, how he would wait for him to come home after each war, and how he adores and dotes on him! Raq was the only family that cared for him!! A-and now, I’ve taken Raq away from that little boy!! I let Raq die for nobody! A nobody like me! Then everyone else....Ty....Collie..Monique...everyone else...slowly……started to--” My throat wouldn’t permit any more words, but it allows a sorrowful cry.
He gently place one hand on my head, gently patting it down. “Even so, you’re here now. That’s what’s important to me, to us. You’re here now. You’re our little Taria now.”
All of this feels so familiar and so natural. Where have I-? A familiar shouting echo breaks my train of thought. “Taria!! I want my coffee, you dumb maid!”
“That boy still doesn’t understand the joy of respecting life even after going through war battles he volunteered himself into.” He shakes his head in disappointment then releases me from his grasp. “Just like my idiotic son.”
I wipe away the remaining tears with my already-wet maid cuffs and sleeves. Picking up the fallen wooden rail, I arch into a little bow, seeing him off as I return to my attending duties. “If you’ll excuse me, the young master is waiting for me.”
I turn to hallway with the still-screaming bratty voice. I quickly pace myself into jogging speed. Just as I begin to accelerate, I hear an old raspy voice of the past. “We’ll always be watching over you Taria.”
I turn my head back only to see the Head Master’s back, walking to his studies. Suggestions began to spring forth, but reality always breaks through the false illusions. Death in history can never be reversed nor revived. That is the iron truth of history. I immediately omit any lingering thoughts of the dead becoming the undead, and continue to rush down the red carpet to Steir.
I’ve reached my destination with a simple box-shaped silver cart, accompanied with a fresh pot of coffee and several half-loaves of French bread on top. Steir spins his empty mug with his index finger, bored while I was preparing his requests. With haste, I snatch away his mug and prepare his next cup of coffee with his preference of cup of milk and 2 spoonful of sugar again. As soon as I put the full coffee mug on the table, Steir immediately picks it up and takes another sip, then suddenly lets down a satisfying sigh, “This moment is such a perfect time of the day. The sun is nearly setting down, flooding this broken world with the color red and black. Just like the history of man, bloodshed painted on the surface of the dark history that man wishes to hide from.”
I’ll probably never get his sense of aesthetics from this kind of landscape. The city’s destruction obviously labels the shatter pieces of human civilization. No government to control or suppress you. The city itself died, leaving there to be no stores to retrieve food. The economy and the use of money are no longer existent. People are free from the system that contradicts their instincts to survive. However, even though this catastrophe destroyed many of their structures, these victims still plan to call themselves citizens and repairing their dumb little system once again.
What exactly does he find in this broken city? Where or even what is the beauty that he speaks of so much? I do indeed see the red sun rays stabbing the various concrete and marble buildings and their shadows. But what he speaks of is utter nonsense and seems straight out of dark poems. Connecting dark poetic lines to today’s world is like putting broken glass pieces together with a dried out glue-stick.
The bright clock does not click, but slowly descends, gradually coating over the blue sky into a decorated black sky. Now that city electricity ceases to function, the stars sparkle the night once more just like it had thousands of years ago. It is just the beginning of the young night. Yes, the beginning of the very long night.
After escorting the young master to his unnecessarily large bedroom, I walk to mine. I undress my maid uniform into a loose black tank top and green camouflaged army short shorts, however I left my braids tied as it was all day. Seems like old habit from the war days do die hard. I slowly drag myself into the brightly lit windowsill with enough space for me to lean my weight against the glass.
My forehead feels so cool against the clear surface. My eyes squint against the bright silver rays of the moon, reflecting the moonlit glow against my limbs, heavily decorated with craters the size of a bullet’s on my biceps, and crevices made by blades all over my arms and burns all over my legs. It seems that my mouth knows nothing else but to sigh in moments of silence. It’s grown into a bad habit after my first war experience. Perhaps it’s one of my few remaining qualities of a normal girl, one that worries about so much and yet there’s absolutely nothing she can do about. Long strands of my hair loosens its grip from my ear and hangs out swinging, tickling my cheek. I slowly fix my hair and continue to stare down into the darkness, out beyond the jagged night horizon. My body then tingles in reaction to the cold air. Even though it’s the end of the world, that doesn’t mean nature doesn’t apply in this broken earth. I cuddled into my bed underneath the warm blankets that tickles my scarred skin. My mind blanks everything out, shutting down my body to rest this ugly body. A few minutes into the fresh sleeping darkness shall turn into hours.
Or not. Around twenty minutes of pure sleep, a presence just entered my room. I still my body, mimicking the sleeping posture of Taria with a defenseless sleeping face, unguarded reflexes of the body, and eyes calmly shut. Unlike anyone that’ll be grouchy right after waking up, I can’t afford to live such a wonderful morning or much less a nap for that. My past trained my body to be on extreme alert for any assassination and nightly ambushes from all the outdoor war camps we set up back in the day. Looks like old habit are really hard to die after all. The presence of the shadowed figure creeps closer to my bed. A bedspring creek at the farthest corner of my bed. Another creek. The bed continues to creek
Not yet. Just a bit closer. I ready the small knife underneath my pillow.
I feel the dark figure’s body over me, panting his hot steamy breath against my left ear. I moan in order to truly make this intruder believe that I’m sound asleep. I can literally feel the heat and stench leaking from the face of the night raider. I hear intruder rustles his clothes for a bit. I can only assume the worst at he’s preparing his weapon. My right hand tightens the knife under the pillow as I am ready to strike. All is under control until I hear a zipping sound.
Instead of squealing like a girl, my rage lashes out as I knee the intruder in the testicles and without letting this man to rest, I kick the invader’s face, knocking him off the bed. Leaping off the bed and holding the knife downward, I edge my knife to slit this lowlife scum’s side of his neck. Warm blood oozes out from the fresh wound.
“You got some fucking balls to come to my room in the middle of the night and have your way with me. Think again.” The knife goes deeper centimeter by centimeter, pouring more blood by the second.
“You’re right. I do have balls to visit you during the night. I take life by my hands and gamble with Death in any situation, knowing that I’ll die marvelously pursuing my desires of life.”
I already know this voice; I’ve heard it several hundred times but even so, that doesn’t excuse sexual harassment that he gave me. If he weren’t in my life now, I’d finish this little fucker by the next second. Still quite angry, I pressure the knife to sink in a little deeper. “Life isn’t a pretty little game, punk. It’s not worth risking your one little petty life over to lose your god damn virginity. Have your way with me, I’ll guarantee you won’t bear children nor will you pleasure the pleasure of mindless sex.”
A maniacal laugh came out the boy’s mouth. “You think I’m a good little boy? My god, you really are a dumb maid after all. You’ve been to wars. You’ve seen what soldiers done to innocent civilians right? You know why they do such things? It’s †˜cause they’ve obtained victory of the battle and trophies are needed to be given.” A disgusting chuckle. “That’s right. Bloodshed. Massacre. Rape. Orgy. Are you forgetting the fact that I volunteered as a soldier to feel the thrill. To free myself from a safe, dull bullshit city I call my home. Every day during the war, I feel adrenaline rushing through my body, making me glad to even survive a rain of blood and bullets. After risking my life and my victory has been obtained, the trophies are just there waiting to be given to the ones who are victorious.” A prideful laugh. “During the Nightfall Massacre, that delicious little ass of the Korean deserved to lose her virginity with mine. Her screams was jus-“
Any second longer I would’ve made it rain blood from his throat. Steir should thank his grandfather that I couldn’t kill him off. Such a shame too, for the demolished world to have a scumbag like him to survive and live.
In a silent breath, I rapidly lifted him up by the collar and toss him against the wall, enough to bruise his entire back. A painful groan from Steir. How sweet the sound is and how long I’ve wanted to hear this kid wriggle in pain. I cast away any desires and emotions and immediately rush towards him, crashing my clenched rough fist into his chest. A rejecting gagging sound loudly accepts the painful strike. I slightly push the knife's edge to his cheek and my other free hand is strongly gripped his crotch, gradually strengthening its grip.
Silence reigns the night once again, alongside with pants and groans.
“Steir... Master Steir. This isn’t even an issue of your life or an issue about your arrogant shitty act anymore. It’s the matter of how you view life.” I sink the knife deeper enough for a shallow cut. “Yes, I’ve been to wars before, many battles I can’t even count. Not as if I wanted to, but as a war child. A slave child sold by her very own mother. Yes, I’ve lived nothing but wars, but every war I go to, lives are taken. Soldiers, enemies, comrades, people-in-command, and innocents citizens that has nothing to do with all those wars. Those innocent people had no choice! They were stuck between two armies with no weapons at hand. They were only people that wanted to live peacefully in a non-peaceful war. However, they are not trophies for us soldiers to keep or to violate.” Disgusted by grabbing onto his groin during my speech, I seize his collar with the armed hand still against his cheek.
“You have no respect for life itself. You may have your own life to care about but that’s the only thing you care about. Nothing else. You keep spewing crap like †˜beautiful life” and †˜pretty way of living’ but guess what? Your situation right now isn’t so pretty isn’t it? Your life’s beauty isn’t worth taking a pig’s shit.”
The black night cloaks his face in darkness, rendering me unable to see what face he makes. Silence pollutes the air, killing any forms of verbal communication. Huffs, and grunts of pain are the only sounds that is natural to make.
Tired and disgusted to even make physical contact with the boy, I release his collar and fling him to the door. “Find yourself out, before I find you another exit.” I glare at him stumbling to the door as he faces towards me with his shadowed pained face, making sure he doesn’t make a move.
Some rustling sounds then dim yellow pillar of light slowly grew in width. The base of the perfect erected light column becomes jagged by Steir’s shadow figure, outlined by the light’s reflection of his hair, face and clothes. The pillar slowly sinks into the dark room, closing the eventful night with a thud.
My right hand swallows my face as I sigh.
I would have to treat him but he should be able to recover quickly from those flesh wounds and bruises. He is a soldier after all. As a soldier, all should be able to clean wounds, fend off sickness and diseases, and survive out in the wilderness.
I spin my knife in the air then swiftly fling my knife to the wall. A silver gleam from the moonlight flashes during its flight. A loud stabbing noise sticks itself against the wooden wall. I sigh once again as I walk towards my bed only to lay face down onto the freshly cold sheets.
Great, the bed is now cold. I snuggle against the chilled pillow and sheets, thinking how Steir actually participated in wars. I despise the fact that wars recruit anybody regardless of their reason. People like Steir participate in it, so do people desperate go to wars for a job. Nothing to live for, yet they want to live in a warzone and still wish to continue on living their lives in society.
I guess as a war child, your life revolves around guns, bullet, murder, massacres, and following orders. It’s not something to be fun about. I never had a childhood to begin with, never living either. Always expecting to die at any moment and yet when I survived, I’d have to live expecting to die again. An endless cycle through 4 long wars I’ve been to. War is my childhood, war is my adolescence, war is my career. My life until now has revolved around war, so I’d have to go through that kind of environment with soldier’s morals, honor, and pride. Even so, it seems that multi-war veterans, war children like myself are the only one that follows through the soldiers’ code. None of the rookies know what it feels like have your life revolve around murder, bullets, and loss of your comrades. Never will I relate to those who call themselves soldier but have no pride in it.
Then I recall one of the most terrifying moments after becoming a soldier but before becoming an experienced soldier: the night where I was ten years old and almost got raped by one of the rookie soldiers from my squad. To be attacked by the enemy soldiers are one thing, but to have an ally attack you just because of lack of sex was terrifying for a ten-year-old that's almost hitting puberty. I’m relieved that Raq protected the only thing left that makes me a pure woman. That was the first time I've met the first member of my family. Raq was in his mid-50's, with gray hair combed to the back of his head and wrinkled skin but with a muscular build. He had thick white short boxed beard, connecting his beard with his sideburns and moustache. He wore the same uniform I did, camouflaged jacket and pants, with a forest green vest pockets full of ammunition. That night in the forest, he just talked to me by my side, just telling old family stories, about his grandson. He showed me a picture with him and his grandson, but I don't remember what his grandson looked like back then.
From his voice, I sensed no hostility, no ill intent to make me feel anything bad. When he asked about my past, I muttered two words, war child. The old hearty man asked no longer and just hugged me with all his might. I still remember his words, "It's alright, Taria. You have no family, so I'll be your family for those bastards of parents you got. And guess what? There's no limit to how big our family can be right? Could get as much kids we want! AHAhahahahaha!!!" Somehow, that enlightened me, giving me hope that I can trust strangers that are willing to look out for a child that's been abandoned by her parents. That hope came true, he and I gather 25 other members throughout the 15 years we've been into war together. We became one big family, fighting for a tomorrow where we can have nights where we can laugh the war off, and truly enjoy each other's company.
I loved Raq, Collie, Monique, Ty, and all the other family I've met and cherished. We've been through so many fights and battles, shared many good relaxing memories. It's just so hard to believe that they had their moment to die in the battlefield. At each of their deaths, they never blamed me even though they protected me from mines, bombs, and gunshots. That left me in so much grief, but I still had to fight for their sake, and to survive for a another tomorrow with my family. In the end, all of them gradually lost their lives in every battle with me, all protecting me just like Ty, Richard, Caddy who were the first ones to take the blow for me, thus saving my life. But during war, I had no time to grieve all of their death otherwise, I die with so much guilt and regret. At least, that's what Raq and Fayer told me.
In the final days of the last war, I was left all alone again even Raq had his time to meet Death. The superiors-in-command of multiple countries came to a conclusion of the final war, the liquid nuclear war, was a hasty decision which lead to planet in a devastating state as it is now: the use of liquid nuclear toxic waste. Luckily, I wasn't in an area where they splashed hundred of gallons of toxic waste in every country involved in the war so I survived with the remaining squad members I was in command of. The liquid nuclear war ended my war career and thus began my survival in the dead world.
My eyes unconsciously let out streams of salty water once again. How many times have I cried today? More like how much? I harshly rub my eyes against my pillow, soaking it with tears.
My body then slowly relaxes itself despite my active mental activity, numbing my body into deep sleep again. My mind still has so much things to think about, but I can’t fight it off. My wet eyes heavily blink once, twice, three times. The fourth blink was the heaviest, shutting off my field of vision. By then, a silent thought slipped into murmured speech.
“Ah, the Head Master is just like..........Raq....” A smile open for the one thing that I wanted most. A loving parent.
Blinded in darkness, I drift into the world of sluggish sleep but I can feel Raq sitting by my side and patting my head to sleep just like in the jungle nights of the battles we’ve been through together.
How dare that punk! I worked so long to keep up a straight face in front of him and now it’s all gone!! A big sigh. Even so, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that he tempted me to showing my true nature. Even if he did, how did he know? There was no way of him knowing since my occupation to this mansion was quite sudden so there wouldn’t be any time for him to do a background check of me beforehand. Even if he did a background check after, it wouldn’t be possible because I gave my profile stored inside a USB flash stick to the Head Master and seen him lock it away in a vault with 5 mutli-locks behind a bookcase, each with a different method into unlocking one tiny vault. Handprint scan, number-code, retina scan, voice recognition, and a dial. I can’t even imagine cracking the code to that vault. Besides there’s literally no point since the world has literally came to an end.
My legs continue to take me down the hall as my head is filled with thoughts and questions. I caught a hallway mirror with a golden frame almost as tall as me and a little bit wider than the ends of my skirt shown. My legs were about to take off on its own if I hadn’t gain back control and walk towards the mirror. I look at its reflection with many rays of glares cutting out parts of my body’s reflection. I take a step closer and gently place one hand onto the mirror’s face. The glares are now gone and I am standing in front of the mirror, naked of any light interference. I slightly skid my fingers across my face’s reflection. A scornful chuckle of my voice.
“Heh. How stupid was I? Thinking that my past life would be gone in a flash when I moved into this mansion paradise? I must’ve….” I couldn’t finish my sentence. The mirror’s sorrow and pitiful look forbids me to do so. Or is that sorrow and pity coming from me?
I’m…pitying myself? The mirror reveals everything about me almost as if I’m fully naked in front of this mirror. It’s showing everything about me that I’ve never want to show.
The mirror exposes my remnants of the past which is my very own body. I look into the replica of my face, and it looks hideous. Once I’ve enter the warzone, I have no privilege to keep my beauty as a woman. Many small but permanent scars left their marks across my forehead to my right cheek.
The battle scar I’ve received from the Battle Paradox embedded its mark clear as day. It’s a knife wound, however, the technique behind this knife wound was rather a unique one. It’s a technique where the enemy elite Russian soldier had me pinned down and used a knife to slice my skin off just like how a chef slice a thin piece of ham; however the cut was deep enough to cut into the flesh and rapidly leaked out blood. My face would’ve been unrecognized after the third cut if it wasn’t for my good comrade Raq.
The unremarkable battle scar of my face reflects itself to me. The two triangular scarred pillars, one longer and thinner than the other, stand side by side to each other on my left cheek. It’s been healed for quite a while, but the numerously stretched crevices of flesh and skin is darkly shown. I put two fingers on the mirror’s scars, hiding then so I can pretend I was that beautiful girl before I was sold off to be a war child. In the end, it couldn’t help after all. Once I remove my rough fingers, the two scars would show on my reflection once again, as if they’re an everlasting reminder that I can never escape my past and that I can never start a new life. I then attempt to hide my left cheek with my long bangs. No matter how I maneuver it, the two scars would still show. Looks like I can’t cover up my past either. I guess no matter what, people would look at me as if I’m some sort of crazed woman or some kind of woman who likes trouble. That thought alone made me gloom and I tilt my head downward as a sign of depression. I peek through my long bangs and noticed something black and white.
I look at my maid outfit and stretch out the skirt. I twirl around a bit, sending my three long fairly-thin braids flying in a semi-circle, landing between my left arm and breasts. A silent pause then a little smile grew. This maid outfit really helped me out didn’t it? The long-sleeved loose blouse hides away my stiff muscles; the skirt is long enough to even touch my ankles and even if my skirt is lifted up I have thick white stockings to cover up some of my burns during the Sky in Fire battle. To top of it off, I have the piano black suede combat boots received as a gift from the Head Master that took me in. This attire made me realize how fortunate I am to even possess clothes that hides away most of my battle wounds.
All this appreciation comes to an end when I hear a shout at the end of the hall. If memory serves my correct, that’s the direction to the Head Master’s office, located in the right wing.
“You won’t supply us just because you suspect us?!” A slamming sound. “That’s completely ridiculous!!”
I couldn’t help but be curious and head towards the office and eavesdrop a little bit. I approach the door and sharpen my ears’ senses.
"...You reek of them. You reek of those mutants crawling about this god-forsaken land we live in.”
The loudness of his voice already tells me he’s pretty ticked off. “Your maid did a full body check with us already! There were no signs of those mutant things growing inside of us nor does it leeching our lives away!! How dare you just accuse us being infected!! We are clearly showing no signs of it!”
“You are showing me a sign, pig. Your scent reeks strongly in this room. I will not waste our supplies on those who have the mutant beings growing inside their bodies. Now I believe our business here is done. My maid and I will see you out to the door. Taria! You may come in now.”
Just the fact that the Head Master knowing that I was eavesdropping startles me. Nonetheless I straighten out my maid skirt and open the heavily-lacquered dark wooden double doors to see the Head Master in his blazing red blazer facing outside the window and three men, one standing up with his fist on the table and two men sitting on the chairs presented to them. He has a physique of a fat, bald man wearing a dark gray collared shirt and under his left armpit I see a holster for his 6-chamber revolver. An angry police detective I assume. The other two look really similar to each other; perhaps they’re brothers. The one sitting on the left chair has an aloof aura around him, not taking the bargaining seriously. He wears a red vest and underneath a white long sleeve shirt, along with ripped jeans. He covers his yawning mouth and looks at me with lazy eyes. The last visitor adjusts his dark frame thin glasses then strokes his sharp chin, observing my presence. He wears a green dress shirt accompanied with a black and white striped tie, accompanied with black pair of slacks.
A quick scan is all I need to know. Without haste, I bow my head slightly, hanging my bangs. “Right this way, gentlemen.”
The police detective grunts and scoffs at my Head Master. “Fuck you and your petty little bullshit. I hope you’ll rot faster in this world than the rest of us.” He spits on the floor. Such disrespect to the Head Master; he deserves death now. I swiftly flinch my left arm to bring down a thin knife, hidden under the sleeve. But almost as if reading my mind, he simply called out my name. “Taria. Please escort them out the front door. I’ll follow along.”
I reluctantly keep my bowing posture and keep the thin knife hidden within my sleeve. “As you wish. Now, this way sirs.” I lift my arms to point the direction, serving as a guide to the flow of human traffic. The fat walking piece of meat grumbles then leaves with both his stubby wide hands in his pockets.
As he walks out, he shoots a short but hateful glare at me. Oh, how I would love to slit open his throat in a flash. The aloof one didn’t even show a speck of care how this turned out and just loudly yawns his way out. He shows as much disrespect as the fat lard did. I’d stick my desert eagle in his mouth and just blast away. The final guest walks by smoothly and whispers a message, “I’ll be seeing you soon, sweetie.” This one will be special... I’ll use that knife skill used on my face on his entire body, slowly stripping away his silky white smooth skin. Then smash his glasses into his eyes, blinding him for life.
The Head Master follows suit after the moment the four-eyes charmer left the room. I closed the wooden double doors and quickly follow my Head Master down the steps, finally opening the front iron doors leading those irritating men out the mansion.
The front doors are now shut, free from any outsiders. I quietly follow the Head Master up the exhaustingly long and wide grand stairs of the mansion. Before taking a step to the luscious beige carpet of the second floor, he stop and stare at a distance in the direction of his office. “Taria. How do you find this mansion after two months working here? Be honest with me please.” I couldn’t entirely see his face, only his flatten gray hair and a portion of his right side, just barely enough to not show his eyes. I still glance at the area his eye line should be, only seeing his cleaned shaved sideburns and the empty space of skin between the sideburns and his eyes.
“I’m quite fortunate to be here, Head Master.”
A dry, old hearty chuckle. “Please call me by my name, Taria. There’s no need to be formal under this mansion. After all, the age of human society has ended.”
“No, Head Master please!" Though to be honest, I never learn his name. I tried asking the young master Steir, but he just calls his grandfather "geezer." Quickly hiding the fact that I don't know his name, I blurt out"You picked me up despite how rugged and dirty I was, surviving in the world that should already be gone. Even though you went through my background, you wasted your limited supplies on someone else other than your own grandson, offered me shelter and food. You don’t know how grateful I am to live here under your services.”
I recall that day, the day when he found me in a run-down home, hiding under dirt-colored cloak. I was covered in wasteland dirt. New battle scars decorated my body even more. Living outside was literally boiling hell. The air was intoxicated with the nuclear aftermath smell. The only body of liquid was just the remains of the liquid nuclear war. Somehow, by some small glimmer of chance and hope, the Head Master was in a green Hummer car, one similarly resembling a tank without the cannon barrels. He opened the rear door, shouting an offer of an odd job: a maid. I swiftly choose the better alternative of living and accept his offer. During the car ride, he explains how he lives in a mansion on a hill, isolated from the contamination of the worldwide nuclear remains. Oddly enough, I had faith in his words and trusted my life to him. With great duty and responsibility, I performed the first few weeks to the fullest of my abilities, even though I had some stumbles with the young master Steir’s haughtiness and adapting myself to the daily maid duties.
He takes the one step to the second floor, slowly striding his steps. I follow his steps and paced myself with his movements. “Taria, this mansion doesn’t need someone like a maid but a bodyguard, a survivor. I know your war history with your profile. Battle Paradox, Friday Stalemate, Sky in Fire, Crimson Daylight, and so much more. You’ve lived through these battles, attained victory and managed to remain in one piece. I know how much blood you’ve taken away from, and the 26 comrades you’ve cherished so much—“
A sharp shriek of the word “Ah!” followed by a smashing sound of the white-painted stair rails. He stops his speech and I panic for a bit, not knowing what just happened. Several apologies of my sudden mistake streams out to the Head Master as I pile up several large pieces of wood on my arms. Only one thought multiplies in intense numbers in my head, How does he know about my family?
Normally, if anyone no matter who they are spoke of those 26 comrades I loved, they would’ve been beaten down to a pulp, spending a good amount of time in the hospital. What makes the Head Master any different? He should be on the floor bleeding and broken. Instead, I clenched my fists under the pile of wood pieces but not in anger but in sorrow and regret. Regret that I couldn’t protect them at all yet, all the time, each and every single one of them protected me. I’ve seen them die in front of me, looking at me with kindness, love and hope in their eyes. Just the image of their remaining moments in their lives broke my heart 26 times, enough to be depressed for months to come. I let my loose bangs hide my eyes and continue to follow the Head Master.
He continues on slowly striding to his office “We need that strength of love and commitment here, Taria. You loved those comrades dearly, I understand that. I can feel your sadness and pain without me looking.” He’s right. He has yet to turn his back and still head towards his office. What’s this feeling? It’s almost as if he personally knows me beyond whatever data given in the USB drive. “We need that commitment for your love, to show my grandson what you are capable of.”
I squeak out my voice, “But Head Master!” I can’t control my tears. They’ve already leak out and create two thin waterfalls. The flow of the two streams are heavy with feeling, thus streaming down my scarred cheeks. “I-…..I couldn’t do anything for them-“ Why is this happening? I shouldn’t be crying. I’m a soldier for war, straight out murdered thousands of men and yet here I am in this mansion, crying in front of the person who saved my life from the apocalyptic hell outside. I drop and pieces of the stair rails and use my white buttoned cuffs and black sleeves, alternating one and the other, to cease the flow of heavy tears. “They were the ones to did everything for-“ My voice broke. Words try to wiggle their way out of my larynx, but the overflowing sadness that suddenly appeared could not be stopped. Why is this happening to me? What’s going on with my body?
Then the unexpected happens to me. The Head Master latches himself onto me, with an aura so kind, so warm, and so gentle. What’s this feeling? His old wrinkled hands clenches onto the back of my apron, his head so close to mine with our ears almost touching. This is no sign of love. No, I’ve felt this embrace before very long ago. This is the embrace of family love, the one I share with my 26 comrade-in-arms. I let my emotions run free, no longer holding back the sudden sadness embedded in me. I wail into his chest, flooding with salty water. He held me tighter, “Its fine Taria. You did your best. I’m sure none of your comrades would’ve hated you. They love you so much and they were willing to give their lives away to save yours.”
“But still!! They left me alone! Alone in the battlefield. For someone like me, a war child sold by her own mother. Even knowing about that, they approached me.... treated me like family. Sharing laughs.... enjoying each other’s company isn’t an average veteran’s life. Raq.....He- he had a grandson waiting for him! He would tell me how cute and adorable his grandson would be, how he would wait for him to come home after each war, and how he adores and dotes on him! Raq was the only family that cared for him!! A-and now, I’ve taken Raq away from that little boy!! I let Raq die for nobody! A nobody like me! Then everyone else....Ty....Collie..Monique...everyone else...slowly……started to--” My throat wouldn’t permit any more words, but it allows a sorrowful cry.
He gently place one hand on my head, gently patting it down. “Even so, you’re here now. That’s what’s important to me, to us. You’re here now. You’re our little Taria now.”
All of this feels so familiar and so natural. Where have I-? A familiar shouting echo breaks my train of thought. “Taria!! I want my coffee, you dumb maid!”
“That boy still doesn’t understand the joy of respecting life even after going through war battles he volunteered himself into.” He shakes his head in disappointment then releases me from his grasp. “Just like my idiotic son.”
I wipe away the remaining tears with my already-wet maid cuffs and sleeves. Picking up the fallen wooden rail, I arch into a little bow, seeing him off as I return to my attending duties. “If you’ll excuse me, the young master is waiting for me.”
I turn to hallway with the still-screaming bratty voice. I quickly pace myself into jogging speed. Just as I begin to accelerate, I hear an old raspy voice of the past. “We’ll always be watching over you Taria.”
I turn my head back only to see the Head Master’s back, walking to his studies. Suggestions began to spring forth, but reality always breaks through the false illusions. Death in history can never be reversed nor revived. That is the iron truth of history. I immediately omit any lingering thoughts of the dead becoming the undead, and continue to rush down the red carpet to Steir.
I’ve reached my destination with a simple box-shaped silver cart, accompanied with a fresh pot of coffee and several half-loaves of French bread on top. Steir spins his empty mug with his index finger, bored while I was preparing his requests. With haste, I snatch away his mug and prepare his next cup of coffee with his preference of cup of milk and 2 spoonful of sugar again. As soon as I put the full coffee mug on the table, Steir immediately picks it up and takes another sip, then suddenly lets down a satisfying sigh, “This moment is such a perfect time of the day. The sun is nearly setting down, flooding this broken world with the color red and black. Just like the history of man, bloodshed painted on the surface of the dark history that man wishes to hide from.”
I’ll probably never get his sense of aesthetics from this kind of landscape. The city’s destruction obviously labels the shatter pieces of human civilization. No government to control or suppress you. The city itself died, leaving there to be no stores to retrieve food. The economy and the use of money are no longer existent. People are free from the system that contradicts their instincts to survive. However, even though this catastrophe destroyed many of their structures, these victims still plan to call themselves citizens and repairing their dumb little system once again.
What exactly does he find in this broken city? Where or even what is the beauty that he speaks of so much? I do indeed see the red sun rays stabbing the various concrete and marble buildings and their shadows. But what he speaks of is utter nonsense and seems straight out of dark poems. Connecting dark poetic lines to today’s world is like putting broken glass pieces together with a dried out glue-stick.
The bright clock does not click, but slowly descends, gradually coating over the blue sky into a decorated black sky. Now that city electricity ceases to function, the stars sparkle the night once more just like it had thousands of years ago. It is just the beginning of the young night. Yes, the beginning of the very long night.
After escorting the young master to his unnecessarily large bedroom, I walk to mine. I undress my maid uniform into a loose black tank top and green camouflaged army short shorts, however I left my braids tied as it was all day. Seems like old habit from the war days do die hard. I slowly drag myself into the brightly lit windowsill with enough space for me to lean my weight against the glass.
My forehead feels so cool against the clear surface. My eyes squint against the bright silver rays of the moon, reflecting the moonlit glow against my limbs, heavily decorated with craters the size of a bullet’s on my biceps, and crevices made by blades all over my arms and burns all over my legs. It seems that my mouth knows nothing else but to sigh in moments of silence. It’s grown into a bad habit after my first war experience. Perhaps it’s one of my few remaining qualities of a normal girl, one that worries about so much and yet there’s absolutely nothing she can do about. Long strands of my hair loosens its grip from my ear and hangs out swinging, tickling my cheek. I slowly fix my hair and continue to stare down into the darkness, out beyond the jagged night horizon. My body then tingles in reaction to the cold air. Even though it’s the end of the world, that doesn’t mean nature doesn’t apply in this broken earth. I cuddled into my bed underneath the warm blankets that tickles my scarred skin. My mind blanks everything out, shutting down my body to rest this ugly body. A few minutes into the fresh sleeping darkness shall turn into hours.
Or not. Around twenty minutes of pure sleep, a presence just entered my room. I still my body, mimicking the sleeping posture of Taria with a defenseless sleeping face, unguarded reflexes of the body, and eyes calmly shut. Unlike anyone that’ll be grouchy right after waking up, I can’t afford to live such a wonderful morning or much less a nap for that. My past trained my body to be on extreme alert for any assassination and nightly ambushes from all the outdoor war camps we set up back in the day. Looks like old habit are really hard to die after all. The presence of the shadowed figure creeps closer to my bed. A bedspring creek at the farthest corner of my bed. Another creek. The bed continues to creek
Not yet. Just a bit closer. I ready the small knife underneath my pillow.
I feel the dark figure’s body over me, panting his hot steamy breath against my left ear. I moan in order to truly make this intruder believe that I’m sound asleep. I can literally feel the heat and stench leaking from the face of the night raider. I hear intruder rustles his clothes for a bit. I can only assume the worst at he’s preparing his weapon. My right hand tightens the knife under the pillow as I am ready to strike. All is under control until I hear a zipping sound.
Instead of squealing like a girl, my rage lashes out as I knee the intruder in the testicles and without letting this man to rest, I kick the invader’s face, knocking him off the bed. Leaping off the bed and holding the knife downward, I edge my knife to slit this lowlife scum’s side of his neck. Warm blood oozes out from the fresh wound.
“You got some fucking balls to come to my room in the middle of the night and have your way with me. Think again.” The knife goes deeper centimeter by centimeter, pouring more blood by the second.
“You’re right. I do have balls to visit you during the night. I take life by my hands and gamble with Death in any situation, knowing that I’ll die marvelously pursuing my desires of life.”
I already know this voice; I’ve heard it several hundred times but even so, that doesn’t excuse sexual harassment that he gave me. If he weren’t in my life now, I’d finish this little fucker by the next second. Still quite angry, I pressure the knife to sink in a little deeper. “Life isn’t a pretty little game, punk. It’s not worth risking your one little petty life over to lose your god damn virginity. Have your way with me, I’ll guarantee you won’t bear children nor will you pleasure the pleasure of mindless sex.”
A maniacal laugh came out the boy’s mouth. “You think I’m a good little boy? My god, you really are a dumb maid after all. You’ve been to wars. You’ve seen what soldiers done to innocent civilians right? You know why they do such things? It’s †˜cause they’ve obtained victory of the battle and trophies are needed to be given.” A disgusting chuckle. “That’s right. Bloodshed. Massacre. Rape. Orgy. Are you forgetting the fact that I volunteered as a soldier to feel the thrill. To free myself from a safe, dull bullshit city I call my home. Every day during the war, I feel adrenaline rushing through my body, making me glad to even survive a rain of blood and bullets. After risking my life and my victory has been obtained, the trophies are just there waiting to be given to the ones who are victorious.” A prideful laugh. “During the Nightfall Massacre, that delicious little ass of the Korean deserved to lose her virginity with mine. Her screams was jus-“
Any second longer I would’ve made it rain blood from his throat. Steir should thank his grandfather that I couldn’t kill him off. Such a shame too, for the demolished world to have a scumbag like him to survive and live.
In a silent breath, I rapidly lifted him up by the collar and toss him against the wall, enough to bruise his entire back. A painful groan from Steir. How sweet the sound is and how long I’ve wanted to hear this kid wriggle in pain. I cast away any desires and emotions and immediately rush towards him, crashing my clenched rough fist into his chest. A rejecting gagging sound loudly accepts the painful strike. I slightly push the knife's edge to his cheek and my other free hand is strongly gripped his crotch, gradually strengthening its grip.
Silence reigns the night once again, alongside with pants and groans.
“Steir... Master Steir. This isn’t even an issue of your life or an issue about your arrogant shitty act anymore. It’s the matter of how you view life.” I sink the knife deeper enough for a shallow cut. “Yes, I’ve been to wars before, many battles I can’t even count. Not as if I wanted to, but as a war child. A slave child sold by her very own mother. Yes, I’ve lived nothing but wars, but every war I go to, lives are taken. Soldiers, enemies, comrades, people-in-command, and innocents citizens that has nothing to do with all those wars. Those innocent people had no choice! They were stuck between two armies with no weapons at hand. They were only people that wanted to live peacefully in a non-peaceful war. However, they are not trophies for us soldiers to keep or to violate.” Disgusted by grabbing onto his groin during my speech, I seize his collar with the armed hand still against his cheek.
“You have no respect for life itself. You may have your own life to care about but that’s the only thing you care about. Nothing else. You keep spewing crap like †˜beautiful life” and †˜pretty way of living’ but guess what? Your situation right now isn’t so pretty isn’t it? Your life’s beauty isn’t worth taking a pig’s shit.”
The black night cloaks his face in darkness, rendering me unable to see what face he makes. Silence pollutes the air, killing any forms of verbal communication. Huffs, and grunts of pain are the only sounds that is natural to make.
Tired and disgusted to even make physical contact with the boy, I release his collar and fling him to the door. “Find yourself out, before I find you another exit.” I glare at him stumbling to the door as he faces towards me with his shadowed pained face, making sure he doesn’t make a move.
Some rustling sounds then dim yellow pillar of light slowly grew in width. The base of the perfect erected light column becomes jagged by Steir’s shadow figure, outlined by the light’s reflection of his hair, face and clothes. The pillar slowly sinks into the dark room, closing the eventful night with a thud.
My right hand swallows my face as I sigh.
I would have to treat him but he should be able to recover quickly from those flesh wounds and bruises. He is a soldier after all. As a soldier, all should be able to clean wounds, fend off sickness and diseases, and survive out in the wilderness.
I spin my knife in the air then swiftly fling my knife to the wall. A silver gleam from the moonlight flashes during its flight. A loud stabbing noise sticks itself against the wooden wall. I sigh once again as I walk towards my bed only to lay face down onto the freshly cold sheets.
Great, the bed is now cold. I snuggle against the chilled pillow and sheets, thinking how Steir actually participated in wars. I despise the fact that wars recruit anybody regardless of their reason. People like Steir participate in it, so do people desperate go to wars for a job. Nothing to live for, yet they want to live in a warzone and still wish to continue on living their lives in society.
I guess as a war child, your life revolves around guns, bullet, murder, massacres, and following orders. It’s not something to be fun about. I never had a childhood to begin with, never living either. Always expecting to die at any moment and yet when I survived, I’d have to live expecting to die again. An endless cycle through 4 long wars I’ve been to. War is my childhood, war is my adolescence, war is my career. My life until now has revolved around war, so I’d have to go through that kind of environment with soldier’s morals, honor, and pride. Even so, it seems that multi-war veterans, war children like myself are the only one that follows through the soldiers’ code. None of the rookies know what it feels like have your life revolve around murder, bullets, and loss of your comrades. Never will I relate to those who call themselves soldier but have no pride in it.
Then I recall one of the most terrifying moments after becoming a soldier but before becoming an experienced soldier: the night where I was ten years old and almost got raped by one of the rookie soldiers from my squad. To be attacked by the enemy soldiers are one thing, but to have an ally attack you just because of lack of sex was terrifying for a ten-year-old that's almost hitting puberty. I’m relieved that Raq protected the only thing left that makes me a pure woman. That was the first time I've met the first member of my family. Raq was in his mid-50's, with gray hair combed to the back of his head and wrinkled skin but with a muscular build. He had thick white short boxed beard, connecting his beard with his sideburns and moustache. He wore the same uniform I did, camouflaged jacket and pants, with a forest green vest pockets full of ammunition. That night in the forest, he just talked to me by my side, just telling old family stories, about his grandson. He showed me a picture with him and his grandson, but I don't remember what his grandson looked like back then.
From his voice, I sensed no hostility, no ill intent to make me feel anything bad. When he asked about my past, I muttered two words, war child. The old hearty man asked no longer and just hugged me with all his might. I still remember his words, "It's alright, Taria. You have no family, so I'll be your family for those bastards of parents you got. And guess what? There's no limit to how big our family can be right? Could get as much kids we want! AHAhahahahaha!!!" Somehow, that enlightened me, giving me hope that I can trust strangers that are willing to look out for a child that's been abandoned by her parents. That hope came true, he and I gather 25 other members throughout the 15 years we've been into war together. We became one big family, fighting for a tomorrow where we can have nights where we can laugh the war off, and truly enjoy each other's company.
I loved Raq, Collie, Monique, Ty, and all the other family I've met and cherished. We've been through so many fights and battles, shared many good relaxing memories. It's just so hard to believe that they had their moment to die in the battlefield. At each of their deaths, they never blamed me even though they protected me from mines, bombs, and gunshots. That left me in so much grief, but I still had to fight for their sake, and to survive for a another tomorrow with my family. In the end, all of them gradually lost their lives in every battle with me, all protecting me just like Ty, Richard, Caddy who were the first ones to take the blow for me, thus saving my life. But during war, I had no time to grieve all of their death otherwise, I die with so much guilt and regret. At least, that's what Raq and Fayer told me.
In the final days of the last war, I was left all alone again even Raq had his time to meet Death. The superiors-in-command of multiple countries came to a conclusion of the final war, the liquid nuclear war, was a hasty decision which lead to planet in a devastating state as it is now: the use of liquid nuclear toxic waste. Luckily, I wasn't in an area where they splashed hundred of gallons of toxic waste in every country involved in the war so I survived with the remaining squad members I was in command of. The liquid nuclear war ended my war career and thus began my survival in the dead world.
My eyes unconsciously let out streams of salty water once again. How many times have I cried today? More like how much? I harshly rub my eyes against my pillow, soaking it with tears.
My body then slowly relaxes itself despite my active mental activity, numbing my body into deep sleep again. My mind still has so much things to think about, but I can’t fight it off. My wet eyes heavily blink once, twice, three times. The fourth blink was the heaviest, shutting off my field of vision. By then, a silent thought slipped into murmured speech.
“Ah, the Head Master is just like..........Raq....” A smile open for the one thing that I wanted most. A loving parent.
Blinded in darkness, I drift into the world of sluggish sleep but I can feel Raq sitting by my side and patting my head to sleep just like in the jungle nights of the battles we’ve been through together.
0
Pretty interesting story but there were a lot of places that should be worked up. Let's break down the good and bad parts shall we?
Pro:
1)Nice Paragraphing - Love the way you paragraphed your story. Makes it clean and tidy and easy to read too! Something a lot of people seem to have trouble doing for some reason....
2)Descriptive - The story was pretty descriptive and I had no problems imagining the story and characters... except for our main girl, Taira the maid. Besides her clothes, no description about her looks were maid, I mean made, so I had to imagine.
3)"Quite" original setting - Although post apocalyptic settings are not exactly new, you excluded zombies! THANK YOU! I was sick with all them zombies. It's intriguing that Taira mentions a sort of nuclear war but she didn't elaborate, make readers curious(me included), good job!
Cons:
Now let's get down and dirty! >:D
1)Tenses!! - Let see, I'm guessing the narration was "supposed" to be in past tense, am I right? If so, I have some bad news buddy...
2)Influence from anime? - I think you watch too much anime girls pulling stuff from under their skirts. Sure, its funny when anime does it but don't you think it's ridiculous for a more realistic setting like this? The Desert Eagle, okay, it's pretty small so it's logical but a Grenade Launcher is really out of the question. Do you expect people to strap a Grenade Launcher in a skirt and not let it rip the skirt when she moves? It's freaking heavy! What's next? A Rocket Launcher?
Of course for the 2nd Con, it's merely a little pointer but if you're actually doing an anime style story then by all means ignore it.
Pro:
1)Nice Paragraphing - Love the way you paragraphed your story. Makes it clean and tidy and easy to read too! Something a lot of people seem to have trouble doing for some reason....
2)Descriptive - The story was pretty descriptive and I had no problems imagining the story and characters... except for our main girl, Taira the maid. Besides her clothes, no description about her looks were maid, I mean made, so I had to imagine.
3)"Quite" original setting - Although post apocalyptic settings are not exactly new, you excluded zombies! THANK YOU! I was sick with all them zombies. It's intriguing that Taira mentions a sort of nuclear war but she didn't elaborate, make readers curious(me included), good job!
Cons:
Now let's get down and dirty! >:D
1)Tenses!! - Let see, I'm guessing the narration was "supposed" to be in past tense, am I right? If so, I have some bad news buddy...
2)Influence from anime? - I think you watch too much anime girls pulling stuff from under their skirts. Sure, its funny when anime does it but don't you think it's ridiculous for a more realistic setting like this? The Desert Eagle, okay, it's pretty small so it's logical but a Grenade Launcher is really out of the question. Do you expect people to strap a Grenade Launcher in a skirt and not let it rip the skirt when she moves? It's freaking heavy! What's next? A Rocket Launcher?
Of course for the 2nd Con, it's merely a little pointer but if you're actually doing an anime style story then by all means ignore it.
0
Honestly their is perfect grammer and perfect everthing I read this about 5 times over and over I really like this *claps* MORE MORE MORE!!