Broken

The First Letter

As I run I notice the building looking like they are going to collapse. At this point I have no idea of where I am. All I know is that they continue to chase me. My body hasn't eaten for a while, so I am pushing my limit I don't know how much longer I can continue this.

After a few minutes of our feet pounding the ground, I hear Kyle yell to the SRT, "We are way too far into the Desolate Sea. If we continue we won't be able to get back. She will come to us. She needs us. She is no one without Dohean. Look at her. I found her alone."

I hear their steps slow down and recede away from me. I continue running. I have to continue. I will figure this out. I slow down after a few minutes. My body barely able to keep itself together.

I look around me. There are crumbling buildings around me. I look up to the sky as I continue to walk. Where am I? I need food. I need water. All of which I see none of. When it is almost dark, I find a building that is in an acceptable shape to lie down.

There is something almost comforting about this building. There are some rooms that can be used for protection. I open one of the rooms and I see two almost completely decomposed. How long have they been here? I crouch beside the smaller of the two. I notice a necklace laying on the floor besides the hand of one of them. I look at the beautiful four leaf clover pendant. The eccentric patterns dancing across it. I smile. Even though it has no value, it is gorgeous.

I grab a hold of it and notice the clasp is broken. I hold it carefully in my hands. I take the charm off the chain and walk out of the room, to find a beam of sunlight. I walk to a beam of sunlight in the middle of the hallway. I hold the charm up to it.

The patterns now seem to dance a glittering dance, instead of the one before that was almost sad. I look at the chain that is in my left. Is there a way I can fix this? It is too beautiful to let go of. The chain itself twists in a fancy way. This seems as if it is from society before the last war.

I go into a room that I somewhat remember having tools. I look at the room. There are tools within the room that are different from any that I have seen. They have a weathered feel about them. I notice bloodstains on many. I leave the chain and the pendant on one of the wooden tables to find tools adapt well enough for the job. I don't know which tools I will need, but I know well enough they have to be small.

I find a tool box and set it on the table. I open the box. There are many bones within the box. I look at it baffled. Bones. This is not what I need. I need tools. I continue. I find another tool box. I open it. I find small tools such as screwdrivers and wrenches with it. This is what I need.

I take a small wrench and realize I have no idea how to work this. I look at the clasp and back to the toolbox. This is not what I need. I like the chain but I don't need it. I need something that can act as a chain. Rope. Rope will work.

After a few minutes of looking for rope I find a box of chains, charms and pendants. All of them intriguing in their own way, but not as beautiful as the clover. They are all of highly expensive metals, well, that once were. In this world there is no such thing as the price of beauty. We are all only able to barely grasp hold of the physiological needs, much less, the aesthetic needs, which is higher up.

I look through the chains hoping to find one that will look nicely with the pendant. I continue to look through them. Once I reach the last few chains, I notice there is a chain that is the same as the one for the pendant. I take carefully in my hands and notice there is also a clover pendant on the chain. I look at it carefully. The pattern are replicas of each other. The one I got from the floor, it was next to something. I try to remember.

I realize that it was a rotting corpse. A rotting corpse was next to the beauty of a clover. The beauty of death mingled in the beauty of art. I turn around both the pendants and notice they are both engraved. The one with the broken chain say "Lucky". The other says "Doom". Lucky, huh? If it was so lucky, why did it ultimately get broken?

I look at the box next to me, it contains bones. Bones. Why bones? Who would need bones? I go to the box and open it once again. The bones look like they are fingers. I start going through the bones. They look brittle. As I take them out, I find a few papers. They are wrapped with twine.

I open one of them. The paper feels fragile and almost like it is going to fall apart in my hands. I look at the writing. The writing looks like someone scribbled on to the page with low light. The letter says:

"My Lucky Clover,

I have lost you. I will never be able to hold you like I used to. It has been two years since I left you. I did not want to be like the others. I started getting thoughts about eating you. They were nightmares that began fading into dreams.

I could not take a piece of you. Even if it meant survival. I know you will never read this. You are what made me lucky, but I was doomed to slip up, if I stayed with you. I would hunger for you. Clover sometimes I wondered if this is how it were to end. I doubt I will ever see you again.

If I do, I would probably will not be in the right mindset. I want to hold you again. I want to be your mother. I want to see you grow up, but we fought for Espington, so Dohean would not take us in.

We were failures. We all hid in shame. The families, which were not involved in the war, were gladly welcomed. Many went to Dohean. Others, which refused to swallow their pride, stayed. They refused to bow down to Dohean. Years passed and we grew hungry. Hungry became a characteristic of us. We became insane. Every day we lost the last bit of pride we had.

We kept going. We kept living. In what state, I can't say. It became something that represented us. Represented the poor country we came from. The one we lost. The power that cannot be gained once again. We all knew we were going to lose to bully, named Dohean. They did not keep our land. They were growing weaker and needed more people. They needed heirs. They did not need rebels.

Those who tried to rebel were thrown to the wilderness of broken building. We devoured them for survival. They took everything from us. They kept reminding us. Every time someone would be thrown out, they were well fed, well dressed, and sane. We had to steal that away from them.

We did not want Dohean to be with us. We wanted to destroy it. That was impossible. That dream will never come true. We are too hungry to fight against them. We need food and forces to fight.

My Clover, keep on going. Don't give up. One day we might all unite to fight Dohean. One day seems like a long ways away.

-Mom"

I read it over and over again. Espington had come onto Dohean. That is what they had taught us. Espington a country with many people. It had many luxuries. We would trade many of our meats for the items they had. Gorgeous items, like this clover.

The arts they created started coming less frequently. We were vain. We fought them because they wanted more. They needed more. As well as we did. We stopped the trade and started a war.