Great Thirst (A Short, Short Story).

Chapter 1-

24/03/2061

Walked through the forest, the red light sliced through the pines, silhouettes were everywhere, standing around like shadows, shadows that come from the people from before. I found shelter in a small cave dumped my backpack and belongings on the floor and went to collect firewood. The forest is dry, the trees creak and moan for their roots to give way, begging the sky for water to fall, but no water will come.

I set my alarms surrounding the perimeter so that I have a chance to run when the ragged ones come. The thirst will be particularly strong these couple of months so I will not be taking any chances. I came across a deer that has only died very recently so it will be a feast tonight, its blood will hopefully slake my thirst for a little while longer until I make it to the river, back to my people.

 

Chapter 2-

25/03/2061

I am but a few days away from the river now. In the midst of my sleep I was awoken by an alarm but thankfully it was just a fallen tree. You can never be too sure though, so, while it was still dark, I grabbed my backpack and pegged it, unfortunately leaving all my traps. I ran and ran until the sun came to greet me. I fear the thirst is coming for me, I do not want to join the ragged ones like the others did. Today I walked a total of twenty miles according to the stars. I have covered much length. I believe that in another 15 miles I shall come across the river and my thirst shall be slaked and God shall be thanked.

I can’t help but marvel at the wonders of this place. The forest I can feel is almost talking to me. Maybe it seeks my witness to its last dying words. I can almost hear its whispers. I feel sorry for the trees and the roots, there is not much that I can do for them but listen while they cry their leaves off in sorrow.

Tonight I sleep rough out in the open. I am nervous, I have no fire or smoke to ward off the ragged ones, they are always there, I can tell they’re following.  I pray they do not find me, I am so close.

 

Chapter 3-

26/03/2061

I barely slept the night from before. I kept hearing voices; it woke me again and again. I could have sworn I saw their eyes watching me in the night.

It seems I have made a miscalculation. I have followed the stars and God’s signs but I must have interpreted them wrong as I have not come across my river. Everything here is barren. There are no trees or roots, no animals, no wind. Just silence. Deafening silence. I don’t know what is worse, the noise of the forest, or the silence of the plain. I can hear my heart beat so clearly.

 

Chapter 4-

28/03/2061

I was not able to write last night as I had fought strongly with my thirst. My tongue was leaping from my mouth and my belly enlarged. Luckily I was led by God to a small pool of water. The stars shone in it so I knew that it was clean to drink. Truly this was not by chance. I know that with more faith and endurance I will reach the river and be with my people once again. The river is our only chance to rebuild truly. Tonight I sleep in the trees away from the ground. I hear distorted voices again, surely it is them. Their howling and mourning is keeping me up.

 

Chapter 5-

29/03/2061

Today was a rough day. My feet are bleeding from sores, my shoulders ache like I carry the weight of the world with me. What I carry will rejuvenate our people once again. My mission is almost complete, we will have fresh hope. I have found the path, I shall be back to the river, to my people, tomorrow evening.

 

Chapter 6-

30/03/2061

My people have turned, the thirst took hold, and the river has run dry. They are nought but hollow shells of themselves. Their veins run dry and minds have forgotten God and themselves. The ones that refused, remaining faithful are strewn across this place. Our walls have crumbled by their fists, our house reduced to ruin. I do not know what to do. My weight is so heavy, my tongue hangs loose, I feel my limbs seize up. To write right now is such a pain I cannot describe. Whoever finds these journals, whatever finds these journals. Please preserve it as a testament to our struggle. It seems God did not find me worthy to slake our thirsts. In my backpack you will find hope, you will find salvation. You will find the answer to all your problems. Unfortunately, I was gone too long. I wish you luck traveller.

 

END.

 

(Hey there, Jack here. Lately I’ve been attempting to write longer stories alongside the usual short strands of poetry. I’m trying to find the right flow to storytelling and writing fiction. Any criticism, comments or tips would be much appreciated! I definitely want to give all this more of a go, it’s great fun. Hope you enjoyed, if you made it this far, haha.)

The Fascist Pet

Meticulous planner with the soft heart

Well, a heart that was soft, but now, battered, calloused

Hands tiny and fingers wandering, wanting

Servile loyalty to his God

Someone has to lead

His face is better than mine

So it shall be him

He will be their God

But I have plans

I am the mechanical clockwork

Behind the face of God

That keeps this whole charade going

When the face rots away

The people will see what we really are

What we’ve done

I will be absolved, hopefully

Late Night Aspirations

Idea after idea

The golds flowing down the canals in my brain

Through the cracks and turns

Screaming hot, but flowing

Wincing but I guess it feels good

Until its rivers dry up

Then the pain grips me

The steam bursts through the geysers in my head

With it, all my ideas

Just stinging dryness

Until I wait for the next river of gold

Drunk Poem

I lose a little bit of my soul

Everytime I listen to it

Everytime it makes me feel something

The past tears away a part of me

Claims it forever

And I can never touch it again

The blank emotions watch

Trying to remember what it was like to feel

Because honest to God I don’t remember

It starts to worry me

So I try not to listen to the music I used to

To keep the fading feelings safe, locked up

 

I think I never truly felt anything

That I forced it

To match the music of this world

The rhythm

A False Speech

He took to the stage

All eyes followed him

All voices quiet

Ears poised for position

He readjusted the microphone to his height

And spoke his piece:

“All men are greedy and ugly. Every one of these men running for this local election only care for their own pocket. Not your livelihoods. I promise to bring about a new era where I put the people first, and not myself!”

The audience clapped

He took off the stage with a smile and a wave

To sit in the VIP seat reserved for him

The next man was ushered on

He readjusted the microphone to his height

And spoke his piece:

“This man was lying! He only cares about lining his own pockets. He’ll tell you anything to get votes! Vote for me and you will get nothing but honesty.”

The audience clapped

He took off the stage with a smile and a wave

To sit next to the other man

In the VIP section

Both sharing a laugh together

The next man was ushered on.