Me and a few IB-classmates created a creative writing group as a creative experience for CAS. We found/came up with writing prompts and each person wrote a short story for that prompt, then a week later we read our stories for each other. As a part of my CAS experience, I have to make a "final product", so I decided to post MY stories here!
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“You can’t argue with the results. The people are happy here, who cares if it’s all fake.”
Aya sat at the big, round mahogany table with her mother on her left side and her husband-to-be on her right side, and her father on his right.
Twelve other people were also seated around the table, three other families, each consisting of a father, a mother, their first-born child and the person they were to marry.
The elders around the table made up the city council, and their children together with their partner-to-be, were the successors.
They had assembled for the annual mid-year meeting, which according to tradition was meant to be the end of the successors learning period and the beginning of the practise period.
As the meeting was coming to a close, Mr. Lansen, one of the fathers in the council, said: “This is the next step in readying you to take our place and lead our society just like we have and the way our ancestors did before us. Tomorrow you will use your new knowledge in practise for the first time. You will prepare tomorrow’s services, and then administer the data collecting afterwards. At 9.30 am tomorrow, we all meet at church to prepare for the first service. That’s it for today, see you all tomorrow.”
Mr. Lansen stood up and nodded towards the others before walking out of the room with his wife, son and his son’s wife-to-be.
One by one, the families left the room, and last to leave was Aya’s family.
The city outside the building was quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the rhythmic sound of people’s feet hitting the pavement which was wet from rain that had fallen earlier that day.
On the walk home, Aya’s parents described what was going to happen the next day.
The services and data collecting were simple, but very important task. The services were what held the city population in order.
Long ago, before the ancestors founded the city, a way to create a world of peace was discovered in form of a complex serum.
Somehow, the serum annihilated every single evil tendency in a person, and enhanced every good tendency, but there was a catch.
The people were not really human anymore, they were more like robots.
There was a debate going on for a long time about if it was ethical to use the serum, and whether it should be mandatory or optional to take it.
The ancestors were the small group of scientists who wanted a small society under the influence of the serum to study and collect data from, so they argued that the serum had to be mandatory. When they were opposed, they decided to take actions into their own hands and create their own community with people who volunteered to help the scientific research.
They left their old lives behind and secluded themselves from the outside world.
The founders of the city were the only ones who were not under the serum’s influence, and it had been the same for every council since then.
When the clock stroke 9.30 the next day, the council met in church and the successors prepared the communion wine by pouring a tiny bottle of peace serum in it.
Then they practised the questions for the data collecting.
At 10 am, the service begun. An hour of sermons and preaching passed.
Everyone sat quietly in perfect rows. Hands in their laps and robotic smiles on their faces.
When the service came to an end, Robert, one of the other successors said: “Come forth to join the communion.”
Row by row, the people walked up to the altar to drink the serum-filled wine. Then they walked into one out of six booths were the data collecting took place.
Aya sat in one of the booths, and when each person stepped inside, she asked them three simple yes or no-questions:
Have you had any bad thoughts lately?
Have you done anything you shouldn’t have done?
Are you happy here?
The answers were always the same:
No.
No.
Yes.
After the service, the successors were praised by their parents for the good work and they were informed about the next task which was taking place in two days.
On their way home Aya, who had always been a bit weirded out by the way the peace was maintained, and out of curiosity, she asked her husband-to-be, Chuck, what he thought about the whole thing, to which he answered: “I mean… You can’t argue with the results. The people are happy here, who cares if it’s all fake.”
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“It’s 2 a.m. when suddenly you’re woken up to see that an emergency broadcast has been aired. The message is simple: ‘Run’.” (very short one, not finished)
Since I was little, I’ve been afraid of sleeping in complete darkness or silence. Back then, I always fell asleep every night to the sound of cars rushing by 13 floors below my bedroom window and the comforting, yellow glow from the street lights seeping in through my half-open blinds. Nowadays though, the city, that was once full of life and movement every hour of the day, has gone silent and still. The street lights will shine outside my window, but my blinds are now completely shut. I’ve had to replace the warm street light glow with a low-watt lamp on the desk opposite my squeaky bed. The cars do no longer rush by on the once busy street below my window. The sounds have been replaced by an old radio with a crooked antenna. A few months ago, music would have been playing along with some occasional news broadcasts. I really miss the music. All I hear now is Aesir propaganda.
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“The Grim Reaper is no longer able to claim lives directly. Instead, when your time is up, a mark appears on your body and it is the duty of every other person to kill you in sight.” (more of a prologue)
I can’t remember much from the Old World, but I do remember that this is not how it used to be.
All I see, wherever I go is death. No one is safe.
Yet, when I see her, I see life. I feel safe, and hopeful. Like nothing has changed.
Our world is dead. There’s nothing left but sand and ruins from older days.
All seas have dried out. All animals are extinct. The Grim Reaper is dead.
We’re stuck here. We live without need of food or water. We can’t die. Not until we get the mark of doom. Then we’ll have to pray that someone kills us of fast so we don’t turn into one of the monsters.
One of the Claimed.
The dark, wound-like mark appears when you least expect it, right in the middle of the forehead. Then it spreads to every other inch of your body. It’s like your body is rotting away and eventually, you can’t control yourself.
You fade away.
The only thing left is the decayed shell of what you once were.
You might wonder how I know all of this.
I’ve seen it happen.
We didn’t know how the sickness worked back then.
My mother got sick first. We thought she would get better.
Eventually though, she was gone. Her mind had been eaten by the sickness and nothing of her remained more than her rotting body.
Later we learned from others we had met, that they had to be killed. Shot in the head before turning.
It was the only way of putting them to rest. Once they turned, it was too late. Then they really couldn’t die. Ever.
A while later my father got sick. And then my younger brothers, both at the same time.
Each time the infected one stayed behind.
No one else from the family could bear to do what had to be done, and the one left behind understood.
At last, my love and I were the only ones left from our original group.
I don’t know how long it had been since this hell broke loose, and I don’t know how long it’s been since we left my brothers.
Not that it matters though. I’m sure I’ll see them soon.
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“You were thrown into a volcano as a virgin sacrifice, but no one expected you to walk out of there alive.” (finished)
Somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, far far away from here, floats a little island named Kanaki. It’s an island inhibited by the tribe I belong to, but left behind in search for answers. They call themselves Lua, meaning “part”. They live in harmony with nature and believe that there are parts of one whole spirit in every living being (hence the name, every part of the island add up to one whole spirit), so that everything and everyone is connected. They call this spirit Oni Kuan, meaning “the creator”, and she’s kind of what you would call Mother Earth. The Lua believe that Oni Kuan created the island to replicate where she once came from, and that she put all it’s beings there in her image.
This might sound nice, but as in most other cases, where there is some kind of good power, there’s usually a bad power as well, and in this case, it’s the evil spirit Tawalu.
While Oni Kuan lives in every good and living thing on the island, Tawalu is said to live in the islands volcano Mak Hiwa, meaning “hell’s gate”.
The Lua legend says that the evil spirit Tawalu came from hell through Mak Hiwa to take over the island because he could not stand to see how perfect everything was compared to where he was from. Since he was not capable of loving and being good, all he felt was a wrath towards the island and its people and he set off to take the island with him down to hell just like he had done with the island of Atlantis in the ancient days. In the end though, the people joined together to summon Oni Kuan whom, with help of her powers, made him surrender.
Before he left the island to crawl back to hell, he mustered his last powers and put a curse on the islanders. His words still echo in the minds of the Lua:
“On this day, every year, from now until extinction, one of your most pure, unmarried and therefore untouched, will be marked with a flame at the rise of the burning star. If the marked one has not been sacrificed at Mak Hiwa before the last rays of day hide behind the horizon, I will return, and there will be no stopping me.”
As soon as Tawalu disappeared, the elders stepped forward and insured the Lua that there was a prophecy that had been passed down through generations from the dawn of their tribe, and it stated: “During a time haunted by evil, a child will be born. This will be the savior. When the savior enters the house of Tawalu, as the last rays go out, Mak Hiwa will close forever and everlasting peace will rest upon the land.”
This gave the Lua hope, and every year on the day of sacrifice, the tribe hoped for salvation. But everytime they were left with disappointment and grief. The whole island cried at the loss of a loved one, and it did barely recover before it was time for the next to meet the same fate.
Fast forwarding a couple of years, to when I was 14 years old.
All the islanders got up before sunrise to get ready for the marking ceremony. Everyone gathered in a long line on the seashore, faced the horizon and waited for the burning star to rise over this doomed day. I stood with my toes in the sand. Felt the chilly morning breeze dig its way through my skin and body, and I shivered. Somehow, I knew that this was going to be my last day of life. My mind had already accepted it.
As the first rays of light kissed my face, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The following seconds felt like an eternity and I wished fortune to stop, but all of a sudden I heard the screams of my mother and looked up at her with a pained expression. She and my father ran up to me, both with tears in their eyes, and they completely broke down when they hugged me.
That day, the whole tribe was gathered from dawn until the time of sacrifice. We ate, sang, danced, shared memories and stories and just tried to make my last day that best one ever, despite its inevitable end.
When day turned to dusk, the air was filled with sorrow and pain as we walked towards Mak Hiwa with the heaviest of steps. A sad but beautiful hummed melody was dancing in the wind and I let the tears fall. At last, I stood at the top of the volcano, looking down at the orange colors painting the walls of Mak Hiwa. I felt its warm breath. It was waiting to devour me. I hugged my parents one last time. They were crying again, but silently this time. Then I looked over at the horizon again, just as I did earlier that day. The sky was shifting in beautiful pinks, reds and oranges, and I felt at ease. Peaceful. Ready.
Everyone stood in silence as we waited for the darkness of night, and the only thing we could hear was the sizzling of the murderous liquid below me. My heart pounded faster every second and suddenly, the last rays of day shone on my face and right before they left behind the horizon to shine on other places and other people, I closed my eyes and let myself fall. It took a while before I landed at the bottom of Mak Hiwa. I realized that I was submerged in the thick, orange lava, but it was not as hot as I thought it would be.
I wondered if this was supposed to happen. Why wasn’t I dead?
Without the need for more air, I swam deeper down. I still had my eyes closed and couldn’t see, but an invisible force guided me deeper down and eventually I reached the bottom of the volcano. The blackness surrounding me suddenly became lighter and I felt a power running through me. When I felt the power fading, I swam up to the surface and a bright light met me. It said:
“My child. With your help, Mak Hiwa, the portal between our island and hell has been closed. You are the savior from the ancient prophecy. Walk with me, and leave this place filled with dark memories.”
I can’t remember what happen right after that, but when I regained consciousness I was laying in my bed. With my parents smiling next to me.
“We thought we lost you forever.” My mother said with tears running down her cheeks.
“So did I.” I answered with a smile and a sigh of relief.
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“Your roommate is literally the devil. Surprisingly, he’s the best roommate you ever had.” (not finished)
Have you ever betrayed someone? A close friend? A blood-brother? I have. When I was alive, I was my king’s right hand. Him and I grew up together, side by side. Him as the crown prince, and I as an orphan who was kindly taken in to live in the palace with the royal family.
We were always great friends, as close as brothers, and I don’t think he ever noticed how my brotherly love for him slowly but surely turned into hatred the older we got. I guess my hateful feelings emerged from the jealousy I experienced when I was always so close to the throne, and all the power, luxury and respect that came with it.
Over a period of about three years I schemed and planned to overrun my king. I gathered weapons and people all around the land to help me in the fight.
When the coupe actually begun, it only lasted for a short time before it came to an end, because my sorry army of just fell dead around me, and suddenly I was the only one left. I knew that I could not that on the rest of the huge royal army on my own, so swallowed my pride and surrendered.
On the king’s orders, I taken to him alive to be brought before justice. When he saw that I was the leader of this rebellion, his eyes widened at first, but then his whole person twisted into a pained expression, he looked like his heart broke into a million pieces.
He didn’t say anything, but one single tear ran down his cheek as he looked me straight in the eyes. Then he turned to his general and placed a hand on his shoulder before walking away. The general turned to me and stared at me with cold eyes.
I knew what was about to happen, and even though I betrayed my king and he was the one who was supposed to give me my punishment, he did not have the heart to do so. Therefore, the general, who had also been a close friend of mine, was to be my executioner.
I closed my eyes, and moments later, he slit my throat.
Everyone always told me that everything just turns black when you die, but that’s not the case. At least not when you go to hell.
Have you ever heard about Dante’s Inferno? If not, it’s basically a depiction of hell as a funnel with nine levels. The further down, the smaller the level is, and the further from the face of the earth you are. The section that I ended up in, was the ninth and lowest level, the level where those who commit treason end up. Treason is considered to be the worst sin of all.
For your information, I did not know about this in the beginning!
When I opened my eyes again, I was in a room of ice. All I could see was the four walls around me, the roof and the floor, but also a red man with big, black, ram-like horns and ears, and a long, red tail, sitting in a corner with his back towards me, forehead leaning against one of the walls.
“Excuse me, sir?” I said hesitantly and walked a little closer to the weird looking man.
He slowly turned his head towards me, and what greeted me was something I had never seen before. A pig’s head and snout, sharp dragon-like teeth sticking out of his mouth, and yellow eyes with thin pitch-black pupils, similar to those of a feline, staring straight through me and into my darkened soul.
I felt my body tensing up, readying itself for fighting of fleeing, but when my head caught up, I realized that I had no weapon to help me in the fight against this horrific beast, and neither did I have anywhere to go since I was trapped inside these damned icy walls.
The beast got up and walked towards me. I stood paralyzed before him as he lifted his hand from his side, and as a reflex, I shut my eyes. When nothing happened, I carefully opened them again only to see the beast mere centimeters from my face. I fled to the nearest wall and started banging and screaming for someone to let me out.
I heard the beast laughing behind me, and then saying;
“Hey, man! Don’t be scared, I was just kidding!”
I turned around slowly and the beast stood before me with his hand stretched out, waiting for me to shake it, which I did after some hesitation.
“Nice to meet you, roomie! I’m Lucifer!” he said with a big, hideous but genuine grin.
I simply answered; “I’m Peter.”
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