Short Stories and Ideas

Caged Bird

Do listen to the song above while reading. That's where I got my inspiration from. It's called Vogel in Käfig and it's from Attack on Titan. And yes, I totally stole the name.

The dark cloud grew overhead. It sped up and stole the sky. Wisps of cursed mist shot through the heavens and shattered white clouds in their destructive path. The wretched cloud spread as its vapour flitted through the sky.

Blackness started reaching the edge of the sun's shine. The mist retreated as if scorched by a roaring flame. It circled the sun from a distance, the evil cloud commanding the vapour from the distance. Rays of sunlight glared at the darkness in an attempt to singe it like before. The black retreated and reared its ugly head, a snake about to strike. It raced to the sun and pierced its shining shield. Soon, inky night started devouring the light that gave life to the world below.

Grass was watered by splashes of blood from a battle long-lost. No longer was it a battle, but a senseless slaughter as man after man fell. Crimson flowed in the gaps of the cobbles, which were covered in dried maroon that had begun flaking off.

In the growing darkness, more people fell. It no longer was just the men, who had gone out to fight after the army had been exterminated. Women and children dropped one after the other, more crimson flowing between the cobbles.

Swords, spears, torches, chains. They glinted menacingly in the last rays of sunlight. Soon enough, the moon on the other side of the sky would cower behind the black cloud. The eclipse had begun, and the cloud above sent more and more of its misty limbs through the accursed heavens. A feast had started, with the gallons of blood being the main dish in the sacrifice to the strong.

Screams sounded through the colourful streets. Tears flowed. Blood gushed. Cackled laughs echoed through the now still towns.

A young boy, his mother, and his sister ran for their lives. The children's hands gripped each other's as their steps thundered in booming echoes through the silent streets. In the distance, clang of weapons striking the cobbles rung, a single, jarring note in the concert hall.

His pulse roared in his ears, his breaths shuddered through frozen lungs and a dull ache wormed its way through tired legs. He flung himself forward with panicked leaps in an attempt to keep up with his family.

Why was this happening?

Just hours ago he sat on the lush, green grass of the fields close to his home, under the one tree in the area, nursing a swelling bruise on his cheek. Once again, he had gotten into a fight. And his sister had to come and save him – not the first or the last time that this had happened. Perhaps it was the last time. He did not know.

She had walked up to him elegantly, as she always did, and dropped to the ground next to him. Half her face was buried in that same scarf she always wore as she stared into the distance of the vast fields.

She had held out a hand, in which was a small bread roll. Without a word of thanks, he had grabbed it from her and eaten it angrily. They had remained seated on the ground, in the company of each other, the shade and the chirps of young birds.

That was when it had begun. When the first scream tore its way through the happy town and the brutal attackers had begun their bloodbath.

The children had immediately shot to their feet in search of their mother, and when they found her, they had all run together. So, he was faced with the prospect of dying one of the first few times in his life.

He did not like it one bit. He liked not how his breaths seemed to freeze in his lungs and his legs locked up with misplaced adrenaline. How his heart leapt to his throat in fear of the turbulent, growing ball in his chest. How his mind seemed to leave him in the moment he needed the most and his perception narrowed to what was right in front of him and nothing else.

And so, he failed to notice the man standing a little to their left. The man had looked up, and smiled. That smile was one he would never forget. That smile that betrayed all his twisted thoughts. He had lumbered to the family clumsily, and raised his weapon.

The boy's mother pushed the children, and bode them to run. The man came closer. The boy was dragged farther. He thrashed and fought against his sister's iron grip. And yet, she pulled him farther. Tears spilled from his eyes. And he turned. He ran next to his sister.

And yet. That one moment. That one moment of hesitation. That one second when he glanced back, and witnessed something he never should have. That second the man's weapon came down on his mother's head as she spoke the last words of her love. That moment her skull caved in with the blunt impact, and blood, bones and brains cascaded from what was left of her head. She fell.

And then they turned the corner. When his mother's corpse and the man were out of sight. Crimson had soaked their shoes to the point that every step made more ooze from the material and leave a bloody footprint on the stones. His sister's tears flowed down her face.

He fell to his knees, and tilted his head back to look at the pitch-black sky.

"Damn them!", he screamed as blood seeped into his clothes, "Damn them all to hell!", that day, not only one young boy's grief was heard, "I'll kill every last one of them!"

Is this basically a copy of the first few episodes of Attack on Titan? Yes. Is it nearing one am on a school night? Yes. Am I an idiot for deciding to write this late? Yes.