Amie's Tree of Disintegration
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Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
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593
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
593
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is an original piece of fiction written by me, please do not use without permission from me first. All similarities to people living or dead is pure coincidence.
Amie's Tree of Disintegration
A/N: Hey guys, this is my new fantasy original.
I am taking a short break from Love In a Fallout Shelter to experiment in new genres and also give myself time to just think of where that stories heading.
On other news, I have joined the magical land of Twitter! Why do I do this to myself? Social Networking will be the death of me. For those who are on it and wish to follow me here is the link www.twitter.com/Starmongoose
I will inform when new chapters are up and also on events of the now.
I also have a bebo blog located here: www.bebo.com/Starmongoose
And an official blog: www.blogger.com/profile/08686750590661971735
This is a bit more established than my Twitter which is but a new born.
Chapter One:
Today Sarah wasn’t working. Today was a sad day, today was a day that people like Sarah hoped would never come. Taking a red velvet purse out of the near-by drawer she tipped the contents onto the wooden table, a few lonely euros danced along the varnished countertop before their wild ungraceful landing. The table was the only thing she had left of her mothers, or more importantly, the only thing she has ever owned. The tabletop candle flickered, it was nearing the end of it’s life. It struggled for oxygen, refusing to accept the bitter truth that the end is near…
Gathering up her meagre savings and putting them back in the velvet pouch, Sarah pocketed the money and opened the door to her small studio apartment, she let out a small squeak of surprise as a tall bearded man with a beer-gut and string vest loomed in her doorway.
“You have rent?” his accent was thick Russian, Ukrainian maybe, Sarah tried to keep their conversations as short as possible.
“Work hasn’t been to good lately Hansel, I’ll have the money soon. I have to go now.” she tried to take a stop forward through the doorway hoping that Hansel would oblige and let her past, this was not the case. Hansel leaned forward so Sarah’s head touched his shoulder. He wreaked of stale cigarettes and cat piss.
“Table will do nicely, you sell?”
“I don’t think so.” Sarah shut the door and ducked underneath the less-than-hygienic landlords arm and started a brisk walk down the staircase, flicking an old condom off one of the stairs with the tip of her shoe.
Pulling up her mouth rag Sarah looked up and down the street before setting off west, towards McCormick’s. The air was so polluted Downtown that going out without your mouth covered would land you a one way ticket to the grave. Unless of course you could afford to see a Doctor. Sarah ground her teeth at the thought of the Doctors Guild. Leeches, using their talents for profit in times like these. They should be using their abilities to help the public, instead they exploit the sick out of every penny they have.
Sarah turned into The Abbey and stepped over a dead bum who was laying in a pool of blood on the street side, still holding onto his bottle of whiskey. The Abbey bustled with activity around this time of night, the whores cooed and won men over with promises of fulfilment and ecstasy, the drug dealers peddling dugs that were probably made with the lowest amount of narcotics possible. Then you had your Assassins Guild, your slave actions and weapon dealers.
People had a saying about The Abbey, “Find me an honest man in The Abbey, and I will show you the best liar you ever did see.” Sarah did not work here, but she did need to buy something you could only get here.
“What you want, lady?” the short fat man chewed the butt of a cigar, he had a strange growth above his left eyebrow that looked like a dove taking flight.
“I need,” Sarah looked into the little mans bug eyes, “I need a bomb.”
***
Amie awoke yet kept dreaming. Her skin crawled with tiny green men, they carried hammers and axes and picks. They came from the pores in her skin, they came from the moon, they were made of thoughts she almost created. Her chest rattled with every breath, interspersed with a wracking cough that made the little aliens fall off and turn into mucus on the bed sheets. She used her entire being to turn her head towards the alarm clock, the red lines danced and blurred before coming into focus, it blinked 05:46.
She turned back and looked up at the ceiling. The pattern swirled and rearranged, turning into wailing children trapped behind a wall of fire, burning eternally in the ceiling hell. She couldn’t tell you how long she observed, helpless. When she tried to find the alarm clock again she got lost within her own mind, it was impossible to focus when you are Queen of Pandemonium.
She slithered out of bed, landing awkwardly on the wooden floor. Grasping for something to help her up the Princess of Ruin felt her hand come into impact with the bedside cabinet, landing in her lap was a syringe, it’s tip crusted over brown with Peter Pan. Amie, Joker of Nothingness grinned as she rested her head on the firm mattress.
“Just like Peter Pan, I can fly.”
The sun crept across the room, tiny fairies danced the dance of Horrible Significance in the Great Stars rays. Amie rose to her feet and waltzed with her father. They laughed as they knocked over a bookshelf, and they danced. Oh, how they danced.
She hit the wall, a picture frame smashed. She slid down the wallpaper and wept. She let out another body rattling cough and sighed, pushing against the ground and wall until she was on both feet again. She proceeded to shuffle towards the bathroom. She splashed herself with the cold water that was left in the sink from the night before.
She spent a long time looking at her face in the mirror, she looked dead. No, she decided, she looked like Death. She grabbed a bobble and quickly tied her hair into an unruly ponytail. She practiced a smile, plaque built up. She scratched at it with the tip of her nail and flicked it into the skink and went back to her bedroom/living room/kitchen.
Pulling on a grey sweater she curled up on the green chair in front of the TV, turning it onto any channel. She just wanted to be in any fantasy besides her own. News. Better yet, sweet reality.
“…the Guild of Order is charging her of over five-hundred counts of murder and being generally toxic to society. Xustiza, now revealed to be a former florist in Downtown ; Maria Yokowitz has yet to make a statement about the matter. The burning will take place in Liberation Square at eight pm tomorrow night. We will be bringing you all the live action starting at seven, Yohannah Gates will be doing the red carpet.”
Amie switched the TV off, a cold sweat seeped into her clothes.
“Mother…?”
I am taking a short break from Love In a Fallout Shelter to experiment in new genres and also give myself time to just think of where that stories heading.
On other news, I have joined the magical land of Twitter! Why do I do this to myself? Social Networking will be the death of me. For those who are on it and wish to follow me here is the link www.twitter.com/Starmongoose
I will inform when new chapters are up and also on events of the now.
I also have a bebo blog located here: www.bebo.com/Starmongoose
And an official blog: www.blogger.com/profile/08686750590661971735
This is a bit more established than my Twitter which is but a new born.
Chapter One:
Today Sarah wasn’t working. Today was a sad day, today was a day that people like Sarah hoped would never come. Taking a red velvet purse out of the near-by drawer she tipped the contents onto the wooden table, a few lonely euros danced along the varnished countertop before their wild ungraceful landing. The table was the only thing she had left of her mothers, or more importantly, the only thing she has ever owned. The tabletop candle flickered, it was nearing the end of it’s life. It struggled for oxygen, refusing to accept the bitter truth that the end is near…
Gathering up her meagre savings and putting them back in the velvet pouch, Sarah pocketed the money and opened the door to her small studio apartment, she let out a small squeak of surprise as a tall bearded man with a beer-gut and string vest loomed in her doorway.
“You have rent?” his accent was thick Russian, Ukrainian maybe, Sarah tried to keep their conversations as short as possible.
“Work hasn’t been to good lately Hansel, I’ll have the money soon. I have to go now.” she tried to take a stop forward through the doorway hoping that Hansel would oblige and let her past, this was not the case. Hansel leaned forward so Sarah’s head touched his shoulder. He wreaked of stale cigarettes and cat piss.
“Table will do nicely, you sell?”
“I don’t think so.” Sarah shut the door and ducked underneath the less-than-hygienic landlords arm and started a brisk walk down the staircase, flicking an old condom off one of the stairs with the tip of her shoe.
Pulling up her mouth rag Sarah looked up and down the street before setting off west, towards McCormick’s. The air was so polluted Downtown that going out without your mouth covered would land you a one way ticket to the grave. Unless of course you could afford to see a Doctor. Sarah ground her teeth at the thought of the Doctors Guild. Leeches, using their talents for profit in times like these. They should be using their abilities to help the public, instead they exploit the sick out of every penny they have.
Sarah turned into The Abbey and stepped over a dead bum who was laying in a pool of blood on the street side, still holding onto his bottle of whiskey. The Abbey bustled with activity around this time of night, the whores cooed and won men over with promises of fulfilment and ecstasy, the drug dealers peddling dugs that were probably made with the lowest amount of narcotics possible. Then you had your Assassins Guild, your slave actions and weapon dealers.
People had a saying about The Abbey, “Find me an honest man in The Abbey, and I will show you the best liar you ever did see.” Sarah did not work here, but she did need to buy something you could only get here.
“What you want, lady?” the short fat man chewed the butt of a cigar, he had a strange growth above his left eyebrow that looked like a dove taking flight.
“I need,” Sarah looked into the little mans bug eyes, “I need a bomb.”
***
Amie awoke yet kept dreaming. Her skin crawled with tiny green men, they carried hammers and axes and picks. They came from the pores in her skin, they came from the moon, they were made of thoughts she almost created. Her chest rattled with every breath, interspersed with a wracking cough that made the little aliens fall off and turn into mucus on the bed sheets. She used her entire being to turn her head towards the alarm clock, the red lines danced and blurred before coming into focus, it blinked 05:46.
She turned back and looked up at the ceiling. The pattern swirled and rearranged, turning into wailing children trapped behind a wall of fire, burning eternally in the ceiling hell. She couldn’t tell you how long she observed, helpless. When she tried to find the alarm clock again she got lost within her own mind, it was impossible to focus when you are Queen of Pandemonium.
She slithered out of bed, landing awkwardly on the wooden floor. Grasping for something to help her up the Princess of Ruin felt her hand come into impact with the bedside cabinet, landing in her lap was a syringe, it’s tip crusted over brown with Peter Pan. Amie, Joker of Nothingness grinned as she rested her head on the firm mattress.
“Just like Peter Pan, I can fly.”
The sun crept across the room, tiny fairies danced the dance of Horrible Significance in the Great Stars rays. Amie rose to her feet and waltzed with her father. They laughed as they knocked over a bookshelf, and they danced. Oh, how they danced.
She hit the wall, a picture frame smashed. She slid down the wallpaper and wept. She let out another body rattling cough and sighed, pushing against the ground and wall until she was on both feet again. She proceeded to shuffle towards the bathroom. She splashed herself with the cold water that was left in the sink from the night before.
She spent a long time looking at her face in the mirror, she looked dead. No, she decided, she looked like Death. She grabbed a bobble and quickly tied her hair into an unruly ponytail. She practiced a smile, plaque built up. She scratched at it with the tip of her nail and flicked it into the skink and went back to her bedroom/living room/kitchen.
Pulling on a grey sweater she curled up on the green chair in front of the TV, turning it onto any channel. She just wanted to be in any fantasy besides her own. News. Better yet, sweet reality.
“…the Guild of Order is charging her of over five-hundred counts of murder and being generally toxic to society. Xustiza, now revealed to be a former florist in Downtown ; Maria Yokowitz has yet to make a statement about the matter. The burning will take place in Liberation Square at eight pm tomorrow night. We will be bringing you all the live action starting at seven, Yohannah Gates will be doing the red carpet.”
Amie switched the TV off, a cold sweat seeped into her clothes.
“Mother…?”