I wake up to the sound of screaming.
"OH GOD!" I yell. My throat is dry and there's a puddle of fresh drool on the cell floor. I swallow and cringe at the rough bits of dirt that slide across my tongue. "WHO'S THERE? ARE YOU OKAY?!"
"OH MY GOD!" Someone echoes. It's the voice of a boy. "THERE'S OTHERS IN HERE!" Something inside me sinks. Remorse? I'm not sure. I feel so little these days. "Wait, are you...? You're another Lumière!"
"Yes." I say simply. "I was... from there, once."
"I'M SO HAPPY TO HEAR ANOTHER HUMAN BEING!" The boy cries. "I'M SO SCARED; YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH!"
I nod, and suddenly realize the boy can't see me. "I'm sure." I say.
The boy's whimpering slows.
"Those savages..." He says, sighing, "I hadn't realized just how backwards they are. What do they have us here for? Are we..." He lets out a cry, "livestock?"
"No." I say. I feel bad for him, I really do. Let me correct myself! I want to feel bad for him, I really do. I just don't care.
"Then... what are we—?"
"—We're here for Meonjeo-jug." I say. "It's a Fos festival. You have a week at best."
"OH!" The boy yells. Even in a cell so far away, I can hear his struggling to maintain his sanity. What does he look like? Is he small and frail like me, pulling out his hair and biting his lip over the struggle of what to do? Or is he like Vide, appearing calm and collected despite his mentality being the exact opposite? "OH... OH... I..." He pauses, "I don't want to die..."
"You'll get used to it." I say. "It occurs to me we've all been dying since the moment we were born, just at different rates. I suppose you're not ready now, and I'm not either, but soon I will be, and soon you will be too. Death will be a great relief to all of us soon."
YOU ARE READING
Tatemae
Fantasy"Death, I think I could handle. It's the waiting that kills me." Humanity is no more. Struggling out of the rubble are the Lumière and the Fos, two races whose only edible source of food is the hearts of one another, and no matter how much they eat...
