Post by Mist on Oct 5, 2010 21:01:23 GMT -5
Warning: The assignment was to show the horror of war through whatever method. I chose to have an injured war vet. of the distant future, telling the story through dreams and her comments. So it's a bit depressing.
I started to write this in present-tense, then went back and changed the dream/story part to past tense. So I probably screwed it up really bad. xD;
M'KAY, here you go:
They say these dreams I’ve been having are my memories.
Sunlight reflected off of the metal wing, which became clear just as the mechanical falcon surged past her, missing her by a hairsbreadth. The ten-foot construct didn’t glance back, unconcerned with the fact it had almost sliced through an ally. Instead it flared its wings, and unsheathed its blade-like talons, amber eyes whirring as it locked on the enemy before it.
But for some reason, I can’t remember them when I’m awake.
A second falcon landed before her, the word “VALKYRIE” painted across a leg. It gracefully swept its wings back and lowered itself to her height, allowing her to climb into the saddle-like control room on its back. A small dome began to form over her, wires snaking across her body and attaching themselves to the lightly-plated armor that garbed her. Her vision went dark as the dome closed, yet the female remained undisturbed by both this and the voice that began to hiss around her.
Comparing detected life form to memory files.
Life form recognized: begin synchronization with “Viviane.”
Synchronization at 36%. 63%. 80%. 98%.
Synchronization complete.
Colors and shapes returned, her vision matching VALKYRIE’s; an explosion sounded to her right, the falcon’s sleek head turning towards the noise at her will; a machine had slammed into the ground, its gold and amber colors telling her that it had been one of her allies.
It’s the year 3170, mommy. I know these machines from the stories they whisper when they think I can’t hear them. They say the Union created these machines so that we could control skies, because if we control the skies, we would never lose a battle. We’d be able to keep the peace.
Viviane spread her wings and took to the air, lifting the two-ton load that had been tucked behind her and veering off as the hovering ship suddenly burst in flames. A black falcon plated in crimson rose from behind the collapsing ship, the feathers crossing at his joint molding into the rough shape of a gun barrel.
I don’t know what peace is. You tried to explain it to me, mommy, a long time ago, when you were still here. You said it was when there was no fighting.
The darker-colored falcon unleashed a round of bullets, and Viviane folded her wings into a freefall. The weight of her load eagerly pulled her down and, temporarily, out of harm’s way. She punched through the clouds, and suddenly the ground was a spinning mass of grays and browns and reds.
My dreams are filled with horrible smells, mommy. I ask them and they say its blood and rust. I am them where it comes from and they say people and machines, mommy. I ask them why and they don’t answer, mommy.
Viviane flared her wings and leveled out, forcing her heart to remain steady and not race so as the falcon behind her screeched and leveled out as well, crimson eyes blazing as he locked on her glinting mass.
I don’t think they know why, mommy.
Viviane sank her talons into a set of grooves along the edge of the container, and released her load as it began to beep.
Mommy, mommy, I’m scared, mommy. Where have you gone? They say you are very far away. Where is very far away?
The falcon behind her suddenly dropped into a dive, and she stopped to hover and watch him; he began to gain on the load, and he flared his wings and dug his talons into it just as the beeping stopped.
They say you’re in the sky. I hope you aren’t in the sky, mommy. The sky is an evil place, mommy. Fire, fire lives in the sky. In big boxes called no-clear. The boxes are in the sky, mommy.
Fire engulfed the falcon and the town just below him; a mushroom cloud filled the sky, sending Viviane tumbling through the air. Slowly her vision cleared enough so that she could veer away from the explosion and the horrid gas that had come with it. She had once again broken through the clouds and blinked her eyes clear, when something struck her side.
A man often visits me when I’m awake, mommy. He says I shouldn’t think like I do, but he says it isn’t my fault. I don’t understand, mommy. Does he mean thinking of you wrong? I don’t want it to be.
Viviane flipped away from the impact, allowing herself to glance over only after she had put three wingspans worth of distance between her and her assaulter. The former proved to be the falcon that had dove after the bombs, metal seared and melting from his frame, gas leaking from his damaged hull. Sputtering thrusters kept it airborne, and for a brief moment he seemed to ignore Viviane as it climbed.
I miss you, mommy.
Synchronization disrupted.
The damaged falcon had suddenly folded his wings again, utilizing what was left of his fuel in order to catch the heavier carrier-craft that was VALKYRIE. The impact left Viviane stunned, and VALKYRIE’s AI took over. The Union falcon flipped in the air as the damaged one sank his talons into her back.
The man says I am thirty-eight. I don’t know what that means, mommy.
The black falcon’s remaining eye whirred.
“I… am taking… you… with me… Union scum.”
Resynchronization in progress. 20%.
Viviane recovered as VALKYRIE’s wings buckled under the strain.
56%.
The falcon wrapped what remained of his wings around her own, VALKYRIE/Viviane screaming as they stared at the ground.
77%.
VALKYRIE desperately attempted to flare her wings as the two falcons began to spiral towards the ground, unloading what little ammunition she had in hopes of dislodging the other machine.
Synchronization complete.
“JOSEPH!” Viviane screamed. “Joseph, help me!”
The man says I was hurt, mommy. Hurt a lot.
The altitude meter had read two thousand feet when the third falcon joined them, grasping the black falcon with both feet and promptly tearing it in half. Viviane spread her tattered wings, and struggled to level out her fall.
They say I’m really lucky, mommy. I say I could have died. What’s dead, mommy?
“Viviane! NO!”
Momentum had sent her slamming into the earth, VALKYRIE all but shattering upon impact. Agony had filled her for the briefest of moments, and then everything had gone dark.
They say there is glory in war, mommy. They say it is for the good of the union. They say I should be proud, mommy; that I had helped the world towards peace. The only one who does not say this is the man, mommy. The man says we have been at war for hundreds of years now, mommy. That no one really knows why we fight anymore. That we fight because it is all we know.
I don’t feel proud, mommy. I’m scared, mommy, scared of the whiteness around me and the beeping and the pain. I don’t understand.
Please come back, mommy.
I started to write this in present-tense, then went back and changed the dream/story part to past tense. So I probably screwed it up really bad. xD;
M'KAY, here you go:
They say these dreams I’ve been having are my memories.
Sunlight reflected off of the metal wing, which became clear just as the mechanical falcon surged past her, missing her by a hairsbreadth. The ten-foot construct didn’t glance back, unconcerned with the fact it had almost sliced through an ally. Instead it flared its wings, and unsheathed its blade-like talons, amber eyes whirring as it locked on the enemy before it.
But for some reason, I can’t remember them when I’m awake.
A second falcon landed before her, the word “VALKYRIE” painted across a leg. It gracefully swept its wings back and lowered itself to her height, allowing her to climb into the saddle-like control room on its back. A small dome began to form over her, wires snaking across her body and attaching themselves to the lightly-plated armor that garbed her. Her vision went dark as the dome closed, yet the female remained undisturbed by both this and the voice that began to hiss around her.
Comparing detected life form to memory files.
Life form recognized: begin synchronization with “Viviane.”
Synchronization at 36%. 63%. 80%. 98%.
Synchronization complete.
Colors and shapes returned, her vision matching VALKYRIE’s; an explosion sounded to her right, the falcon’s sleek head turning towards the noise at her will; a machine had slammed into the ground, its gold and amber colors telling her that it had been one of her allies.
It’s the year 3170, mommy. I know these machines from the stories they whisper when they think I can’t hear them. They say the Union created these machines so that we could control skies, because if we control the skies, we would never lose a battle. We’d be able to keep the peace.
Viviane spread her wings and took to the air, lifting the two-ton load that had been tucked behind her and veering off as the hovering ship suddenly burst in flames. A black falcon plated in crimson rose from behind the collapsing ship, the feathers crossing at his joint molding into the rough shape of a gun barrel.
I don’t know what peace is. You tried to explain it to me, mommy, a long time ago, when you were still here. You said it was when there was no fighting.
The darker-colored falcon unleashed a round of bullets, and Viviane folded her wings into a freefall. The weight of her load eagerly pulled her down and, temporarily, out of harm’s way. She punched through the clouds, and suddenly the ground was a spinning mass of grays and browns and reds.
My dreams are filled with horrible smells, mommy. I ask them and they say its blood and rust. I am them where it comes from and they say people and machines, mommy. I ask them why and they don’t answer, mommy.
Viviane flared her wings and leveled out, forcing her heart to remain steady and not race so as the falcon behind her screeched and leveled out as well, crimson eyes blazing as he locked on her glinting mass.
I don’t think they know why, mommy.
Viviane sank her talons into a set of grooves along the edge of the container, and released her load as it began to beep.
Mommy, mommy, I’m scared, mommy. Where have you gone? They say you are very far away. Where is very far away?
The falcon behind her suddenly dropped into a dive, and she stopped to hover and watch him; he began to gain on the load, and he flared his wings and dug his talons into it just as the beeping stopped.
They say you’re in the sky. I hope you aren’t in the sky, mommy. The sky is an evil place, mommy. Fire, fire lives in the sky. In big boxes called no-clear. The boxes are in the sky, mommy.
Fire engulfed the falcon and the town just below him; a mushroom cloud filled the sky, sending Viviane tumbling through the air. Slowly her vision cleared enough so that she could veer away from the explosion and the horrid gas that had come with it. She had once again broken through the clouds and blinked her eyes clear, when something struck her side.
A man often visits me when I’m awake, mommy. He says I shouldn’t think like I do, but he says it isn’t my fault. I don’t understand, mommy. Does he mean thinking of you wrong? I don’t want it to be.
Viviane flipped away from the impact, allowing herself to glance over only after she had put three wingspans worth of distance between her and her assaulter. The former proved to be the falcon that had dove after the bombs, metal seared and melting from his frame, gas leaking from his damaged hull. Sputtering thrusters kept it airborne, and for a brief moment he seemed to ignore Viviane as it climbed.
I miss you, mommy.
Synchronization disrupted.
The damaged falcon had suddenly folded his wings again, utilizing what was left of his fuel in order to catch the heavier carrier-craft that was VALKYRIE. The impact left Viviane stunned, and VALKYRIE’s AI took over. The Union falcon flipped in the air as the damaged one sank his talons into her back.
The man says I am thirty-eight. I don’t know what that means, mommy.
The black falcon’s remaining eye whirred.
“I… am taking… you… with me… Union scum.”
Resynchronization in progress. 20%.
Viviane recovered as VALKYRIE’s wings buckled under the strain.
56%.
The falcon wrapped what remained of his wings around her own, VALKYRIE/Viviane screaming as they stared at the ground.
77%.
VALKYRIE desperately attempted to flare her wings as the two falcons began to spiral towards the ground, unloading what little ammunition she had in hopes of dislodging the other machine.
Synchronization complete.
“JOSEPH!” Viviane screamed. “Joseph, help me!”
The man says I was hurt, mommy. Hurt a lot.
The altitude meter had read two thousand feet when the third falcon joined them, grasping the black falcon with both feet and promptly tearing it in half. Viviane spread her tattered wings, and struggled to level out her fall.
They say I’m really lucky, mommy. I say I could have died. What’s dead, mommy?
“Viviane! NO!”
Momentum had sent her slamming into the earth, VALKYRIE all but shattering upon impact. Agony had filled her for the briefest of moments, and then everything had gone dark.
They say there is glory in war, mommy. They say it is for the good of the union. They say I should be proud, mommy; that I had helped the world towards peace. The only one who does not say this is the man, mommy. The man says we have been at war for hundreds of years now, mommy. That no one really knows why we fight anymore. That we fight because it is all we know.
I don’t feel proud, mommy. I’m scared, mommy, scared of the whiteness around me and the beeping and the pain. I don’t understand.
Please come back, mommy.