TotW 256: Survival- VOTE THREAD!
TotW 256: Survival
You have ONE vote.
Submission 1 The books had burned swiftly, old and dry as most of them were. Only with the coming of the rain through the collapsed ceiling did the flames abate. Now water ended what fire had begun, soaking through paper, ink and ash, blotting out the words within the covers.
A pale sun rose over the ruin, illuminating it with emotionless light. The forest rustled with the sounds of wildlife. The birds sang as they did every morning, heedless of the destruction that had been wrought. In some corners of the library the ashes still smoldered, having been sheltered from the rain in the night. The boy pushed the last soil into the librarian's grave. He thought briefly of saying something, but his lungs were still raw from the smoke that had choked the old man; in any case, he could think of nothing to say. It was senseless. They had killed the man who raised him, burned the only home he had ever known. What drove them to do it? Had the library hidden some dark secret? Was it a simple love of destruction? He did not know. All he knew was that he was alive, while the library and its caretaker were dead.
The boy wandered the library's halls, now open to the sky, his feet sinking into the slurry of wet ash. He saw on the ground a scrap of paper that had partially survived the burning. Picking it up, he read "Titus... the castle... lost, lost... the burning". Nothing more was legible. He folded the paper and placed it in his pocket, performing the simple gestures with a quiet reverence. Then he resumed his course through the ashes of lost knowledge.
He knelt once more before the old man's grave. Bleakly he stared at the mound of earth, his lips shaping a single sentence over and over.
"I didn't know your name."
He plunged his hands into his pockets, bringing out fistfuls of paper - what little of the library's contents had escaped the flames. Were these words, he wondered, somehow worthier than the rest? Had they been preserved because of some greater value? He doubted it. His hands shaking, he spilled the scraps of paper over the librarian's grave, then stood and looked long before turning.
As the boy walked away, a breeze stirred the charred relics with which he had marked the dead man. Singing softly, it carried them spiraling up over the library's ruins, into the pale sunlight.
Submission 2
The bullets ripped through the makeshift merchant booths, which were being used as shelter from the gunman's bloody campaign. They were nothing like what a true medieval booth would have looked like, but no one cared. Besides, the fair was only pretend. Perhaps the bullets were too. Perhaps the gun and the corpses were all just a twisted illusion.
The gunman paused for a moment, ejecting a magazine from his rifle and swiftly reloading. Boom. Boom. Another corpse was made, this one dressed in fake chain-mail. Two bullets found their way to the man as he attempted escape, one scattering through his chest and lungs, the other creating a clean hole through his rib cage. Crimson blood spurted from him as he fell to his knee. Boom. Another bullet was fired, this one penetrating his skull and killing him instantly.
Everyone was running. Screams echoed through what had once been a happy and joyful renaissance fair. The Police would say the gunman had a specific target, but that after killing her, he had realized his life was over and decided to bring others with him. Politicians on the left would use the event to demand even more gun-control, some of the more extreme would even use the event to push for the end of capital punishment. The Right would refuse the claims of the left, saying the reports had been falsified to push a political agenda. The obvious claims would also be made, that the attack had been the act of a terrorist.
But it was not a terrorist attack. The Gunman had been enraged by his ex-girlfriend, and he had went there to kill her. In his depraved mindset, everyone else was a villain for consorting with the woman, so he shot them. Most didn't even know the woman, as she was shy and an introvert, only finding reprieve in her writings and research. She had broken up with the gunman at the behest of her parents, who called him a horrible influence for his atheistic views, which would corrupt their religious daughter. They weren't aware she herself was struggling with her religion, and her studies of the history of Christianity only furthered her belief that religion was a fake.
Yet the men and women at the fair didn't care for the reason or the backstory. They only cared that they were still alive. By the time the shooting had stopped, and the gunman had been killed, nearly everything was dead, from the wildlife kept for display to the child who had been dragged along by his parents. The survivors were all collected and given water as they gave detailed reports of the shooting. Most would end up in therapy for years. A few would even commit suicide, such as the man in charge of the stables, who's daughter died on the operating table. The attack would live on forever in the memories of the survivors, but the country would soon forget it.
Besides, it was just another shooting.
Submission 3
Panama 1881 :Mortality rates were high for the workers working in the French endeavour of building a canal in the Panama .Just weeks before it closed down 5 men of the 32nd worker group found themselves in a dilemma over a very basic fact,,,survival .The 5 were British workers .Richard Durell ,Keith Williamson,Seth Collins ,John Bay and Roger Doggs .But of these 5 men ,4 were much more afraid .Afraid for their soul .For Roger the weakest of the group was going to die .They had been lost in the wilderness while out exploring much away from the construction .They had finally given up hope after 2 weeks of being lost .They had not eaten a morsel of food and had lost their energy .Yes there was water to drink,lots of it .But food was scarce as most of the plants in the area were poisonous and unedible and there were almost no animals to hunt for food .The wild life had just disappeared . .Currenty they were sitting on their campsite .They had made a small wooden shelter to remain alive.
Coming back to the present,the reason Roger had to die was simple,food was the reason .The group had thought of this for long and everybody knew that to survive sooner or later they would have to sell their souls to the devil .They had tried long and hard to avoid it ,but after 2 weeks of hunger a man’s soul seemed like a cheap price to pay for food .Roger himself standing at 5feet knew it too .
The rest of the 4 had planned it meticulously when Roger had gone for natures callings .John emotionally the weakest had tried to persuade the remaining to wait for some time ,but he knew that he would not succeed .They had to do it .Currently Seth said “Roger look at that tree ,I see a crow behind it ,lets catch it .”Roger who finally realised that the moment had arrived tried to reason “We can survive more,don’t do it,wait for some more time,please don’t kill me.”The remaining 4 did not say anything,their mouths were shut .The pangs of hunger had got to them .They viewed Roger as nothing but a tasty piece of meat .Slowly they got up with their axes and teamed up on him .Roger tried to run but outnumbered and weak he simply slumped down .The next few moments were gruesome.
Food,finally the meat was served by Keith who roasted it on the fire .But as each one of them put the first morsel into their mouths they wondered how their future home would look like,would hell be hot as lava or cold as Lucifer .
At that moment they heard a voice “32nd amigos were were you gone “ .It was Richardo Diaz the manager of the group .
Submission 4
The Lion King was at a loss for action. What had begun as seemingly normal, had become catastrophe. He felt it all slipping away from him; his loyal subjects were grumbling, and there were whispers of a faction, known as the Independent Wildlife Party, rising in popularity amongst the lower classes who were planning on opposing him in the next election.
‘This whole affair with the disappeared rabbits had played right into their greedy little hands!, he shouted to no one in particular as he considered his options. What was worse than the rabbits, however, was the death of a young buck in what the newspapers were calling the highest profile murder case in decades. If any old buck had gone and died it wouldn’t be so bad, but this particular one was the son of one of the Lion King’s most important donors, and the parents had demanded they get their vengeance. But what could the King do, when even his chief of police Grey Wolf couldn’t identify the device stuck in the buck’s throat. A long shaft of wood with a sharp stone head shoved into the flesh of the poor animal with some force; everyone involved were at a loss for words.
And as if it couldn’t get any force, the King’s old ally, the Dolphin Queen had been deposed in the nearby waters, apparently by an uprising mostly consisting of the lower classes. Of course the lion had immediately invited his friend to seek shelterat his palace until the rebellion had been put down, but the only reply was that soon he too would pay.
The lion cursed politics in all its forms, before considering his next move. The strange murder was important, but the murmurs of uprising must be put down before they could truly begin.
A sudden shriek awoke the King from his thoughts and brought him to the palace window, from where he quickly retreated. Below him the kingdom was in flames, and strange creatures were slaughtering his subjects! They shouted and laughed in words he could not understand, and they fought not using their claws and teeth, but carried wooden sticks and rocks. His animals had been caught off guard, and were being slaughtered by the strange warriors!
All thoughts of politics and murder left the King’s mind as he fled the palace. Only one thing was important now; to stay alive for the wars to come.
Best of luck to all of our entrants!
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