序幕
prologue
*
Tonight began the way nights usually begin.
The sun, pulsing, and dying as it slid away into the crevices of enveloping space and darkness. Gulping, gasping for air, but then finally receding as night pushed up and nestled itself into a throne crusted in stars.
It started like this.
But tonight, something was different. In the distance, sparks careened across a dark sky. The lightning was not here to offer guidance to the living, or to console the dead. Smoke twirled into the foggy sky, spirals scratching their bony fingers at the murky ever-night. The lightning did not offer mere pity.
The lightning was here to give.
Everything was alive and dead. The town was a small, lifeless, deathless landscape. Chemical smog maundered, sifting through hollow logs and tapping curiously on the jagged edges of shattered glass windows. If you stood on the small hill that the town stood at the foot of, you would still wouldn't be able to escape the stench of something decaying. Something rotting. Something severed and too broken to be bound back together into a discernible sense of life. Running was not a method to escape the murky air. It clung onto your skin, hovered over you. Watching.
Radioactive substances dripped silently. Plop, plop, plop. Onto ash-laden roads and through putrefying flesh, eating away at any trace of organic matter. Echoes from the bomb blasts still rebounded through empty hallways, and dampened alleyways. Ever-ricocheting in a lonely, perpetual dance. No one to listen, no one to watch it. Darkness retreated back into darkness.
Was this what the end of a nuclear war was supposed to sound like? Where was the glory of it all? Where was the shining victory, halo of light filtering through the clouds, promising a better day tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow? Where was the energy, pulsating through winners and eager faces and eager visions?
On the edge of the town, the storm brewed.
It started small: the distant rumble of thunder, almost dismissible, almost ignorable. Like a voice lurking in the back of the mind. And then it grew: the greying clouds grew into an ebony black—dark and opaque, thick and impenetrable. What began as sparks grew into forks of electricity, branching, stretching out as if trying to pierce through the dark clouds to search for the sun the way vines crept, lulled by the call of the light. Pink, green, yellow, blue, red flashes struck in all directions—no direction was favoured more than another. It was a rainbow of electricity, lively hands snatching out at the air—something so beautiful yet so petrifying. It said: I'm here I'm here I'm here.
It was here to give.
a/n: this story will be previewed in the winter edition of the wattpad block party along with behind the scenes & writing tips! (external link) updating will officially begin in feb <3
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They Are Made From Lightning
Adventure[ #59 ADVENTURE ] Sitting lonely, wedged between buildings and in the deep, reeking underbelly of this underworld - a pair of wayward twins, a silently powerful fighter, a lost boy. A foreboding storm. And these things - the good, the bad, and th...
