Story: Us and Them

This is something I wrote awhile ago, totaly on impulse with no idea whatsoever what was coming out. COMMENTS on what you think is going to happen from there (there is no wrong answer, I dont even know) and just the general idea and what you like and dislike.






Chapter One

Us



The first thing I do this morning, every morning is look out my window.

its a habit I started two years ago, when I say something that I actually caused. The view hasn’t changed since. The city I am looking at through my window is still covered in pain.

But really there was nothing anyone could do.

When the Beast came there was no warning, except that of the sparse collection of animals in this now over populated city. And to me. But that’s different.

Animals were the only ones who noticed anything was changing. They live so close to the earth. I still think that the earth tells them secrets at night, secrets they would never tell humans even if we would listen.

During the years before the Beast, humans became even more separate from the earth then they ever had, digging it up, eating it and spitting it out, almost literally. We never gave back. Ever.

And I must say, we deserved it. I am the only one who thinks that though.



I'm not the only one left. I know because when I sneak out once a month to take food from the supermarket, I can see them. They take one look at me and they scamper away. They didn’t know that they needed to stay inside as much as possible. I barely even knew. But I could guess.

Every one I caught glimpses of outside looked haunted. They hold pain, sorrow and madness in their eyes and pain, sorrow and madness in the way they carry their bodies. They were haunted, somehow. I’m not sure of how many exist.

I don’t think anyone actually died from the beast.

I think they were just… punished. Horribly, terribly punished. And I wasn’t.



Some of the people in my apartment don’t agree with me. They say the people who aren’t mad are still punished even worse then the others. They say that because they feel horribly bad for themselves and want their lives to seem the worst so that they have reason to complain.

They don’t have reason to complain. At all. Their lives are so much better than the beastlings on the street. They never realize it.

But I do.

I am the only one ever going outside, ever.

And they know it.

And they understand that if I want to, I could always stop delivering them food and water and toilet paper.

They would die.

And I would live.

It’s just the way it works.

They certainly don’t like it.

I’m just the only one who knows the rumors aren’t true.

The Beast is long gone.

It has finished its work.

We have nothing to worry about.

That is what I think.



They think that the Beast has nothing better to do than sit around making sure the rest of the un-mad humans in my town never leave.

Are you kidding me?

It has much better things to do.

Such as destroy the rest of America.

Then the rest of the world.

I tell this to them, but they don’t believe me.

They would rather believe that the Beast wants them personally to starve to death. This is either really kind, because their minds are refusing to believe that the Beast is going to destroy the rest of the world, or it’s horribly self-oriented. They think that they are the problem.

Right.

Because something as powerful as the Beast wants to spend its time making sure a bunch of scared middle age house-bound people die.



They won’t be depending on me for long. They won’t be able to.

Because they are right about one thing.

The Beast is still here in the city.

But it can’t be for long.



We are moving on.



Chapter Two

Them



“Whatever happens on planet earth,” my dad said to me two years ago, “I will always be there to save it.”

I had smiled then, but now I know that things change. The dad I had once known is long gone. He is somewhere out on the streets, a beastling, as the girl living upstairs calls them.

There’s no point on believing in, depending on anyone now. The days where I could just count on my dad’s company to keep us going are long gone. My dad’s company is long gone. My dad is long gone.

Me and my mom are living in her apartment, what she had moved into before the divorce. My dad’s house has disappeared, literally. It was one of those mansions built on a different plane. A parallel universe house. That was one of the things my dad’s company invented. They made the new universe and built a house in it- complete with garden and yard. The amount of room on Earth was quickly disappearing- everyone with money lived in a different universe, sleeping there and living on Earth. All our food was being made in a different universe. Now no one knows if food is being made at all. The system crashed, and at least half the parallels disappeared, the people in them along with it.

It was nighttime, and everyone was sleeping in their houses.

There were about 50 million parallels. Half of those were farms.

If you can’t do the math, 25 million families disappeared.

And 25 million multiplied by a zillion slices of bread will never be eaten.

The poor people are left alone on earth, depending on the kid upstairs to bring them food and water and toilet paper. At least that’s what it’s like in our apartment. I have no idea how everyone else in the world lives.

I don’t think anyone else cares, but all I’ve been thinking about recently is where I am going from here. No one else cares because, well, no one else cares about where I go from here. No one wants to leave in the first place. The girl upstairs has no problem telling them that they should be able to go outside now, the beast isn’t going to waste any time on them- but either no one believes her or no one wants to risk finding out.