Amitizi and Waves
Obli and Waves
There was a place where history began, and a place where it ended.
History had ended years ago, or maybe days, hours, or minutes, we couldn’t tell. But one thing was clear, in our new, eternally dark world; nothing was happening, nothing had happened, and nothing would ever happen. It was the end of the world, the end of humanity- a plateaued stretch of time that would last forever.
I lived in a small house. So did everyone in the world. No one would ever dare to leave their houses, in case something miraculous or awful happened, and history was renewed. We were petrified of history repeating itself. Wars, death, and chaos, were our worst fears. Even if history did come with vaccines, unlikely friendships, and freedom to roam and discover more, the risk of the nasty bits of time coming back was too great for us to ever leave.
I didn’t want to leave, either. Not until our house finally ran out of stored food. We had accidentally spilled the last of our cans, and now- there was nothing left. Nothing to eat, and our family of three was starving.
“We should starve before we leave this house! What if something changes in the course of history, that we can’t control. It’s for the good of the world, this new world that is so perfect, that we make sacrifices,” my mother said, clutching her ribs.
I groaned, holding my stomach, and feeling my bones weep, as they slowly became dust. Vital organs got lost in time, years, days, hours or minutes. One couldn’t tell how long we’d gone without food- but we wouldn’t make it much longer. We were all sickly, and confined to bed. The door- it was right there, a promise of safety for my family. But it was also a vow that Earth would be thrown back into chaos. They had always said, the teachers that made me learn over Netscreens, that just a few people could make a change so great, that it would kill, injure, and ultimately make history. But the allure was strong.
That door had me in its thrall.
“You can’t leave, Obli,” my father groaned, “we’re an autonomy, in this house. And we must do what is noble. Think about World War Two, hundreds of years ago, I believe. Millions died, because of one, evil, wretched man. Don’t let history go on. Humans don’t deserve to make it.”
I nodded tersely, and sipped at the scant amounts of fresh water we still had left. But the door was beginning to look increasingly less vile. I wished to go through it, before I collapsed.
So, that night, I crept towards the exit, barely able to move. My hands slid over the knob, and I caressed the darkened metal, and I knew how cruel I was as I let it jolt open, the noise it made not even waking my father and mother. My matted hair had almost completely fallen out, and now, it had gotten caught in the knob. Yanking it out, I began to go down the mossy, cluttered steps that no one had ever used before. My nails were so weak, that they snapped off at the slightest pressure from the old, rotting wood. My hands were so brittle, I could feel them bending, feel the splinters driving into my palms, like the stakes used to history. Which I could very well be ruining for everyone. Bring out the laurels for Obli, bring out the crown- celebrate the true decimation of our system.
Then, I felt something shifting under my fingertips. Something hard, yet particles were continuously escaping my grasp, blowing away in the treacherous wind. I began to dig my feet into it, crawling on top of this soft-hard land. There had to be something out here, something that could feed us.
Maybe it’s still a barren wasteland, from bombs, and weapons, and ceaseless carnage. Maybe there isn’t any hope for us, after all.
Crawling around, I finally found something- a fruit, the type we had seen on out Netscreens, and learned to identify. It had a peel like an orange. But it had a million, hard bumps. Strange.
I didn’t want to let it go to waste, so I tried to peel it. But I couldn’t do it. I was too weak, and so I threw the fruit away. But it didn’t land where it was supposed to. It sailed towards the neighbors who I didn’t even know, and it crashed into their door, so hard that it broke. Their heads poked out of their house, and stared at me.
I just gaped, in shock at what I had done.
No matter how small my treasonous act was...I had made history.
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