The first chapter of an up and coming story of mine. It is in the works and not developed yet so plz just say what you think so far!! :)
Tagline: “Kill or be killed?”
Chapter 1 - The Beginning of the End
“So often does humanity succumb to tragedy and terror, yet there always seems to be a way forward. My boy, seek no anger, do not bring justice into your own hands, or else you will become just like our enemies.”
These were his father’s last words to him…
The sun was rising, and the air itself was tinted red, the dust and sand floating around almost gave the impression of blood. However, it would make no difference as the world had been at war since he could remember. People could, it seemed, only ever make progress when they killed others who may stand in their way. The boy was growing tired as the day dragged painfully on, dripping with sweat in the swaggering heat.
His mother had sent him to fetch some apples, a rare treat in such a strange climate, and merely seeing their rosy red skin made his senses tingle, and his slumped stance straighten out. Once he had gathered up eight of them, he handed over a few silver coins to the trader at the market, and gladly trotted back the way he had came, beginning the journey home.
Upon entering the soft, stone-grey house of his, he immediately felt a sense of cool relief from the outside world, similar to immersing oneself in icy water to rid of a burn. The buzzing noises of the outside world were drowned out in the peaceful silence of the house, as he leant down on a strong, hard stone table. The design on its legs were intricate, with weaving spirals twining up to the top of it and dragons heads etched into the material where the legs met the table top. For a second the boy imagined the dragon coming alive, the exhilaration of flying with the wind in his hair, the feeling of power of being able to control such a magnificent beast. He was often lost in dreams.
After mere minutes of immersion, he drifted back to reality at his mother's call. His mother was a tall, slender woman, with dark brown hair and vivid green eyes, filled with a lively yet hardened gleam like the body of a cactus reflecting the harsh sun's light. In fact, she was in many ways similar to a cactus. She could seemingly endure anything life was to throw at her without so much as a single bit of effort. This evasive characteristic was a family trait - they seemed to be capable of almost anything they wanted to do.
Walking into the ice blue main room, the boy found his mother, sitting casually upon a wooden chair, littered with fine details, just as intricate as the table itself. She also seemed to feel his exhaustion from the extreme heat, as sweat glistened on her brow. The boy had never known his father and his mother would strive not to mention him on every occasion. Drops of water began to trickle down his face, and he stifled their flow with his arm. He knew that his father would not return, although in his minds eye it was happening again and again. He could see himself, standing there with his father, tall and proud. He didn't know what his father would look like, but he saw a strong brave hero, who had a just reason for leaving him and his mother.
His mother spoke quietly, and said that he needed to stay in his room for some hours. With a sigh, he slouched towards his room, but not without a moody glance back at his mother.