Ava's Writing Piece

~One~

RAYA

The man was dressed in decidedly unremarkable clothes.

In fact, they were quite shabby. She could tell that even as he ran. His plain shirt was torn along the edge and his black slippers had multiple holes.

It was an odd contrast, actually: his creased, drab clothing in shades of brown and grey, and the bright object he held in his hands.

It was a large piece of pottery, a vase, bigger than his head. The colors of it so new and fresh the sun glinted blindingly off the glazed surface. Blues, golds, crimsons. All in intricate design. Vibrant.

But look. He was stopping. His feet were planted firmly on the cobblestones, holding the vase high with both hands. She could see him better now, as he stood still, a faded brick wall behind him. Middle-aged, with a roundish face and small stubbly beard. There was no expression in his features. No expression as slowly, slowly, he drew his hands apart and the vase fell.

Fell down to the street in what seemed the slowest manner gravity would allow.

It shattered. A mass of color and fragments of dreams. There was a scream from the street below. The man’s face stayed blank. She banged the window shut.

There were warm tears welling up in her eyes now. She opened the window back up and let herself fall, not caring anymore.

~Two~

KIR

Kir’s dreams were fitful that night.

Her entire life was falling down, and she was falling. And everything around her was falling.

The vase. Dropped by the man in the square.

Raya. Out the window. To that same square, because it was too much to bear anymore.

A white feather. Drifting. Doors slamming and a light flashing:

On, off. On, off.

Morse code. Old metal pipes lying under the snow, waiting to be found again. The spilled salt. Red droplets like blood. Or maybe they were blood. Nothing was certain anymore.

Everything was falling and spinning, spinning and falling.

Control.

There was none of it.

A cannon firing blanks.

She wept.

The darkness was crushing her.

Everything. Nothing. No more.

~Three~

ALEXANDER

He swept up the pottery shards. The girl’s body lay on the stones, crumpled.

His mustache ticked his lip, like it always did, and he sneezed. Why did he have a moustache anyway? It was idiotic. He would shave it off tomorrow.

Looking up at the darkening sky made him wonder. Why was anything anything?

There were still dark stains throughout the square. He had tried to scrub them off. They stayed. A reminder.

Corruption.

Everywhere was disaster, disaster was everywhere.

Corruption.

There were tears in his eyes. He let the broom fall to the cobblestones.

~Four~

TENDAI

Tendai stared out the window at the town center. People bustled through the square, noses red from the biting wind.

It was as if they didn’t care, she thought. They were caught up in their own lives, their own business, thinking about inane things like how butter sure was getting expensive or a little itchy thread in their coat.

Did it not matter to them? Did nothing matter? It was just the way they walked past the stains on the cobblestones, the pink marks spreading like pale flowers that killed her inside. The way the people stared straight ahead and walked faster, and pretended—to themselves and to the world—that they weren’t in the middle of a catastrophe.

Tendai told herself maybe it was the right approach. I mean, life must go on. Through war and through hardships.

But she always came back to, how can they not care?

There are bodies lying in the street and people act like they aren’t even there.

She sighed deeply. It was something Tendai did a lot, lately.

How is everything like this so SUDDENLY? How can the empire just unexpectedly work itself into a corner and start making all the wrong choices?

She sighed again.

Well, no one knew the answer to that.

Picking up her quill, Tendai turned her attention towards the piece she was supposed to write for the newspaper. Of course, it didn’t make her feel the least bit more cheerful thinking about what was coming. After her weekly fiction piece it had been arranged that she also write out a list of the dead.