Update 18
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Black Rain
Update 19
Update 20
Update 21
MariBari
Lackadaisical Content Creator
- Location
- Wisconsin
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Update 22
MariBari
Lackadaisical Content Creator
- Location
- Wisconsin
Something is beginning to happen.
You're not sure what it is.
Maybe it's the wind in the air, or maybe it's the way the rain seems to flow differently along the paths you walk.
You're three days away from a city. A city where others like you, Brights, are able to live away from the rain and the darkness. You feel a bit jealous. All you can hope for now is that they'll let you in, give you a home.
Maybe, just maybe, you'll have a bit of time to figure out what you should do next.
You need food. You gave up on avoiding the rain ages ago. It gets everywhere. Every plant, every scrap of food, every destroyed building. At some point, you needed to sit. Sleep. Eat. And the rain gets on you. It always does.
Your hand aches. You're not sure if it's phantom pain, or something else.
The highway stretches out in front of you. Half-rusted cars are strewn everywhere, seemingly abandoned as soon as the rain started to fall. Sometimes you see corpses. The rain soaks into the bones and bleaches them until they shine like mirrors in the moonlight.
It's been a long time.
You're tired.
You're not sure what it is.
Maybe it's the wind in the air, or maybe it's the way the rain seems to flow differently along the paths you walk.
You're three days away from a city. A city where others like you, Brights, are able to live away from the rain and the darkness. You feel a bit jealous. All you can hope for now is that they'll let you in, give you a home.
Maybe, just maybe, you'll have a bit of time to figure out what you should do next.
You need food. You gave up on avoiding the rain ages ago. It gets everywhere. Every plant, every scrap of food, every destroyed building. At some point, you needed to sit. Sleep. Eat. And the rain gets on you. It always does.
Your hand aches. You're not sure if it's phantom pain, or something else.
The highway stretches out in front of you. Half-rusted cars are strewn everywhere, seemingly abandoned as soon as the rain started to fall. Sometimes you see corpses. The rain soaks into the bones and bleaches them until they shine like mirrors in the moonlight.
It's been a long time.
You're tired.
Update 23
MariBari
Lackadaisical Content Creator
- Location
- Wisconsin
No need to use a car. As soon as you reach an overpass, you walk down the side and sit out of the rain. Seemingly in spite of you, the black ink pours into a drainage grate just a few feet away from you.
You've heard of phantom pains before. Psychological aches coming from body parts that were amputated or otherwise lost. You've also heard of rain causing aches in old wounds. There's nothing necessarily "wrong" with your hand. When you lose a limb, that's just what happens.
Of course, that begs the question of whether your own shadowy fingers are a part of you, or some kind of addition, like a prosthetic. You can't quite put your finger on it. Pun intended.
You silently smile to yourself.
You're very tired.
You walked for a very long time, following the interstate just like that woman suggested. Pretty soon, you'll be able to get to what she called a "Bright City," where you can hopefully get out of this rain and put some food in your belly.
You're more than a little worried about not making it.
Update 24
MariBari
Lackadaisical Content Creator
- Location
- Wisconsin
You can barely see the city on the horizon.
It's tall. Skyscraper tall, and illuminated like the sun. It occurs to you that you haven't seen proper light in a very long time.
There's something eerie about seeing a pillar of light jutting out of the darkness.
You wonder what it will be like when you get there. Do you think they have food? Maybe you'll be able to live a normal life there. It's not like it's too abnormal to be missing an arm and an eye. You might get to wear a nice eyepatch.
It's going to be strange seeing another human being again, you realize.
What color will their eyes be?
That thought fills your head. You struggle to remember your own eye color for a moment. Emerald green. When you stared in the mirror as a child, you could almost see the stardust dancing in your irises.
...
You're cold.
The cold penetrates every fiber of your being. There's something about it, something about the rain, that reminds you of sickness and disease and numbness.
Numb. That's the word. You're numb. You're becoming numb.
...
You trip over your own foot, collapsing onto the concrete of the highway. The rain pools around your head, soaking your hair. It seeps between the cracks in your clothing. Invasive.
All at once, you wonder if you're going to be able to go swimming ever again. You used to love swimming. You imagine the community pool back in your hometown filling with black rain, abandoned, cracks running hairline between the tiles.
...
You're not standing up.
You've been there for quite a while, and you're not standing up.
Is this what it's like to give up?
Is this what it's like to die?
No, you won't die.
...
Will you?
Your limbs refuse to move. You can barely feel anything.
It's so cold. When did it get so cold?
...
Your vision is hazy.
Did you hit your head or something?
What a dumbass. Now would be a terrible time to get a concussion.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your fingers trembling in inch-thick rainwater.
Slowly, you manage to turn the switch of the lantern.
It feels like you went blind, but it's the opposite.
...
There's someone nearby.
You can hear their footsteps over the rain.
Two... no, three people. Maybe more.
Did someone see your lantern?
...
You're not going to be able to stay awake much longer.
...
You miss... everyone.
Everything.
It's scary, being alone.
You think this may be the first time you've ever been truly alone in your entire life.
Will the people walking down this interstate put a gun to your head, or offer you a hand?
Will they even be people?
You're so tired.
...
...
You're so tired.
...
..
...
..
....................
It's tall. Skyscraper tall, and illuminated like the sun. It occurs to you that you haven't seen proper light in a very long time.
There's something eerie about seeing a pillar of light jutting out of the darkness.
You wonder what it will be like when you get there. Do you think they have food? Maybe you'll be able to live a normal life there. It's not like it's too abnormal to be missing an arm and an eye. You might get to wear a nice eyepatch.
It's going to be strange seeing another human being again, you realize.
What color will their eyes be?
That thought fills your head. You struggle to remember your own eye color for a moment. Emerald green. When you stared in the mirror as a child, you could almost see the stardust dancing in your irises.
...
You're cold.
The cold penetrates every fiber of your being. There's something about it, something about the rain, that reminds you of sickness and disease and numbness.
Numb. That's the word. You're numb. You're becoming numb.
...
You trip over your own foot, collapsing onto the concrete of the highway. The rain pools around your head, soaking your hair. It seeps between the cracks in your clothing. Invasive.
All at once, you wonder if you're going to be able to go swimming ever again. You used to love swimming. You imagine the community pool back in your hometown filling with black rain, abandoned, cracks running hairline between the tiles.
...
You're not standing up.
You've been there for quite a while, and you're not standing up.
Is this what it's like to give up?
Is this what it's like to die?
No, you won't die.
...
Will you?
Your limbs refuse to move. You can barely feel anything.
It's so cold. When did it get so cold?
...
Your vision is hazy.
Did you hit your head or something?
What a dumbass. Now would be a terrible time to get a concussion.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your fingers trembling in inch-thick rainwater.
Slowly, you manage to turn the switch of the lantern.
It feels like you went blind, but it's the opposite.
...
There's someone nearby.
You can hear their footsteps over the rain.
Two... no, three people. Maybe more.
Did someone see your lantern?
...
You're not going to be able to stay awake much longer.
...
You miss... everyone.
Everything.
It's scary, being alone.
You think this may be the first time you've ever been truly alone in your entire life.
Will the people walking down this interstate put a gun to your head, or offer you a hand?
Will they even be people?
You're so tired.
...
...
You're so tired.
...
..
...
..
....................
Interlude 1
MariBari
Lackadaisical Content Creator
- Location
- Wisconsin
Your body feels heavy by the time a faint light begins to glow through your closed eyelids. You can feel yourself get picked up off the ground by a single pair of arms. You thought you were supposed to be heavy? That, or the person carrying you is stronger than you expected.
This could be the end, you think to yourself. Either you get taken to that tower or you get spit-roasted over a fire and served to the local townspeople. 50-50 chance.
The lights are bright enough to resemble the sun.
You remember something.
During your first year of college, you were lonely.
You assumed it happened to everyone.
The loneliness built up inside you like bile. You started spending your afternoons after class lying on the grass next to your dorm building. Each day, you would close your eyes and let the sun bleed into your retinas. The warm grass and cool breeze helped you relax. And with your eyes closed, you felt a little bit less alone.
When the rainy season hit, you still stayed outside on the grass in the afternoons. The sun didn't bleed as well through the clouds.
You sprawled out and let the rain soak into your entire body.
Sometimes it felt nice. You could almost convince yourself that you didn't have to shower if you stayed out in the rain for a while. Sometimes it felt awful, when the cold started to burn against your fingertips and gave you a cough that wouldn't seem to go away.
Months later, just before the rainy season ended, somebody took your spot.
She was two years older than you, and her hair was matted from the wind and rain.
Things began to change after that.
This could be the end, you think to yourself. Either you get taken to that tower or you get spit-roasted over a fire and served to the local townspeople. 50-50 chance.
The lights are bright enough to resemble the sun.
You remember something.
During your first year of college, you were lonely.
You assumed it happened to everyone.
The loneliness built up inside you like bile. You started spending your afternoons after class lying on the grass next to your dorm building. Each day, you would close your eyes and let the sun bleed into your retinas. The warm grass and cool breeze helped you relax. And with your eyes closed, you felt a little bit less alone.
When the rainy season hit, you still stayed outside on the grass in the afternoons. The sun didn't bleed as well through the clouds.
You sprawled out and let the rain soak into your entire body.
Sometimes it felt nice. You could almost convince yourself that you didn't have to shower if you stayed out in the rain for a while. Sometimes it felt awful, when the cold started to burn against your fingertips and gave you a cough that wouldn't seem to go away.
Months later, just before the rainy season ended, somebody took your spot.
She was two years older than you, and her hair was matted from the wind and rain.
Things began to change after that.
Update 25
MariBari
Lackadaisical Content Creator
- Location
- Wisconsin
You wake with a start, heart pounding. Head pounding. The blood in your body feels like it's moving at a breakneck pace.
Where are you? What's happening? The room around you is clinical white. Are you dreaming? You're lying in a bed. There's an IV drip attached to your arm. Something hurts in your abdomen. When was the last time you ate something? Where are your clothes? Why is it so quiet?
You will not die here.
You can't die here.
Minutes pass, eyes closed, heart rate slowly calming down.
When the thick nausea slowly subsides, and the lights in the room feel slightly less sharp, you slowly open your eyes.
Yes, that's what you should do. There's no point in panicking if you haven't already thought about your own situation.
The room around you is painted white and brightly lit by two fluorescent bar lights embedded in the ceiling. The air carries the familiar acidic twinge of a hospital.
For a moment, you feel as thought it can't be real.
A doctor quietly opens the door across the room, holding a clipboard in her arms. Human. You nearly choke down a gasp.
When she looks at you, her eyes are bright, but you can see the bags under her eyes. She's tired.
You're tired.
Another person.
You want to reach out and touch her face.
The remaining stump of your right arm weakly tugs against the IV line.
"Now, now." The doctor rushes over and steadies your arm, settling it against the bed. "It's best you don't try to pull that out."
When you speak, your throat is dry.
"Who are you?"
The woman tucks a blonde bang behind her ear. "I am Dr. Smith. If you're not feeling formal, you can call me Jericho."
"Jericho?"
"A nickname."
"I see."
She replaces the bag in the IV drip with silent precision before checking you over. She tilts your head to look at both sides. Checks your throat. Your ears. Your blood pressure. Then, a blood sample. She inspects the stump on your right arm, and the cavity that is your eye socket.
Meticulous. Cold.
She has done this many times, with many different patients.
From the look in her eyes, patients in far worse condition than you are.
Jericho folds her glasses and clips them neatly to a pocket on her coat. "May I have your name?"
You hesitate.
"For our records."
"R-right. Sarah Winters. It's spelled normally."
"Thank you."
"No problem."
The doctor returns to her clipboard.
"May I ask something?"
"Of course."
"Am I... okay?"
She looks at you with a bit of surprise. "Are you... okay?"
"I'm not going to die, am I?"
She chuckles. Her smile says "no," but her eyes say "you're closer than you think."
"May I have a mirror?"
She brings one to you, setting it at the foot of the bed.
You get your first good look at yourself after waking up in the shack.
You look... older. Older than you remember being. You could be mistaken for a woman in her mid-thirties. Most of all, you look exhausted and malnourished. The hospital gown slacks off of you whenever you shift your shoulders. Your hair is half-bleached, stringy, and longer than expected. It pools around your waist in meandering curls. The hair below your shoulders is nearly pure-white.
Around the edges of your face and limbs, your skin is mottled. The rain? You have no idea.
Looking at the socket of your eye makes you a little nauseous. You thought it would look worse; whoever removed it must have had surgical experience. You hope, for your own sake, that they knew what they were doing.
You look up at Jericho.
"I'm pretty fucked up, huh?"
You can see the whisper of a smile on her lips. "We've helped worse."
"I see."
She tucks the mirror underneath the bed.
In a moment of realization, you understand why it's so quiet.
You can't hear the rain.