Post by Pyra on Nov 21, 2010 1:36:46 GMT -5
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A hundred years later the desert encompassed most of the known world. Known we say now because people managed to forget exactly what the world was. The devastation was so frightful that the earth's floor began to burn and the people set to cook. The fire made them forget, put em' a dark place. All that was left was living a fruitless life that would leave one nothing to call their own. Though, there's always an exception... for they say a great civilization lives just out across the ocean, across the long winding spirals of the desert.. in their high rise globes, living in the facade that is called peace... with air conditioning.
"It never gets cold here eh?" The store keeper laughed at the young man's joke, but as he finished and settled down a single tear ran down his cheek. He rang the unfamiliar face up; a worn box of bullets, some cigarettes, a case of beer and four gallons of gas for that old jeep outside.
Vincent, the young man said his name was as he fixed the goods he bought in the small plastic bag provided by the store keep. The man looked up, admiring the classy feel of his young customer. He offered him his lighter quickly as 'Vincent' drew a fresh cigarette from the pack. "They say these come from the big cities.. I've always wondered how they get all the way out here." The store keeper smiled and looked down, sitting comfortably on his chair. He didn't catch his customer's motions though, missed him pulling an older looking .45 from his ol beat-up leather jacket. The lighter clicked as its top clamped down, and then without any hesitation the gun's hammer clicked and the old man was dead, right there. Vincent took a long drag after he holstered his pistol, his eyes remaining still on what was just a moment ago a living being. He felt nothing as he eyed the harsh scene painted before him.
His old, wise and surely ever-kind mind was scattered on the wall behind him. He'd never seen the great city, unlike Vincent. He'd only gotten close enough to buy its products. Luckily, he'd never find the emptiness of those walls, the corruption of one's mind, the weakness of the individual. No, death was the true freedom...
and that desert heat made hell even feel air conditioned.
Vincent left the register alone and even locked up the door to the store before setting it ablaze. He laughed as he used up some of the keep's own gas to raze the structure. The rest of it he took with him as he pulled out down the desert floor, the low sun flickering and annoying him. He put on his shades and rattled off, bouncing across no certain road; it all looked the same but at one point it would split and there would be a bridge. Of course, he knew this.
A hundred years later the desert encompassed most of the known world. Known we say now because people managed to forget exactly what the world was. The devastation was so frightful that the earth's floor began to burn and the people set to cook. The fire made them forget, put em' a dark place. All that was left was living a fruitless life that would leave one nothing to call their own. Though, there's always an exception... for they say a great civilization lives just out across the ocean, across the long winding spirals of the desert.. in their high rise globes, living in the facade that is called peace... with air conditioning.
"It never gets cold here eh?" The store keeper laughed at the young man's joke, but as he finished and settled down a single tear ran down his cheek. He rang the unfamiliar face up; a worn box of bullets, some cigarettes, a case of beer and four gallons of gas for that old jeep outside.
Vincent, the young man said his name was as he fixed the goods he bought in the small plastic bag provided by the store keep. The man looked up, admiring the classy feel of his young customer. He offered him his lighter quickly as 'Vincent' drew a fresh cigarette from the pack. "They say these come from the big cities.. I've always wondered how they get all the way out here." The store keeper smiled and looked down, sitting comfortably on his chair. He didn't catch his customer's motions though, missed him pulling an older looking .45 from his ol beat-up leather jacket. The lighter clicked as its top clamped down, and then without any hesitation the gun's hammer clicked and the old man was dead, right there. Vincent took a long drag after he holstered his pistol, his eyes remaining still on what was just a moment ago a living being. He felt nothing as he eyed the harsh scene painted before him.
His old, wise and surely ever-kind mind was scattered on the wall behind him. He'd never seen the great city, unlike Vincent. He'd only gotten close enough to buy its products. Luckily, he'd never find the emptiness of those walls, the corruption of one's mind, the weakness of the individual. No, death was the true freedom...
and that desert heat made hell even feel air conditioned.
Vincent left the register alone and even locked up the door to the store before setting it ablaze. He laughed as he used up some of the keep's own gas to raze the structure. The rest of it he took with him as he pulled out down the desert floor, the low sun flickering and annoying him. He put on his shades and rattled off, bouncing across no certain road; it all looked the same but at one point it would split and there would be a bridge. Of course, he knew this.