GYWO 7 Days, 7 Stories - Day 5
Apr. 24th, 2020 10:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deemoyzaToday, I used the prompt on the event post for a very short story. Leave it to me to turn a quote from Yogi Berra into something dark.
Prompt: "Nobody goes there anymore. It's too crowded."
Story beneath the cut.
"Nobody goes there anymore," Cytheia's uncle said, rummaging through an old trunk. "It’s too crowded. Too many ghosts. Too many memories and regrets, too much pain. That battle was the deadliest for both us and Dolacaea, and that damned treaty made the whole thing pointless less than three weeks later." He pulled out an old helmet, dented and scratched and nearly caved-in on top. He ran his hand over it, coating his fingers in dust, and drew a ragged breath.
"They called it peace," he went on. "They called it brotherhood, a New World Ideal. Both governments really leaned into that line, declaring the battlefield a neutral zone, or, in their words, a 'valley of peace.' They said it would become a memorial, a park, sold the people a whole line of shit about flowers and trees and hand-carved benches. So, where are they? Have you seen them, in the pictures on the news?"
Cytheia blinked. "No," she managed to squeak out, then cleared her throat. "But that doesn't mean they're not there. Those pictures could be old. We don't know because we haven't seen it ourselves."
"There's nothing to see. Nothing's gonna grow there. Nothing can, and that's the reason it was declared a neutral zone, not peace. The weapons we used killed that land; it's nothing but a scar, useless to both us and Dolacaea. But, if you want to go look for history or plants or meaning, I can't stop you. Just –" he sighed and plunked the helmet onto Cytheia's head, hard enough to rattle her teeth "— take this, and get yourself some decent armor. The ghosts of those who died in vain are the most dangerous of all."
Prompt: "Nobody goes there anymore. It's too crowded."
Story beneath the cut.
"Nobody goes there anymore," Cytheia's uncle said, rummaging through an old trunk. "It’s too crowded. Too many ghosts. Too many memories and regrets, too much pain. That battle was the deadliest for both us and Dolacaea, and that damned treaty made the whole thing pointless less than three weeks later." He pulled out an old helmet, dented and scratched and nearly caved-in on top. He ran his hand over it, coating his fingers in dust, and drew a ragged breath.
"They called it peace," he went on. "They called it brotherhood, a New World Ideal. Both governments really leaned into that line, declaring the battlefield a neutral zone, or, in their words, a 'valley of peace.' They said it would become a memorial, a park, sold the people a whole line of shit about flowers and trees and hand-carved benches. So, where are they? Have you seen them, in the pictures on the news?"
Cytheia blinked. "No," she managed to squeak out, then cleared her throat. "But that doesn't mean they're not there. Those pictures could be old. We don't know because we haven't seen it ourselves."
"There's nothing to see. Nothing's gonna grow there. Nothing can, and that's the reason it was declared a neutral zone, not peace. The weapons we used killed that land; it's nothing but a scar, useless to both us and Dolacaea. But, if you want to go look for history or plants or meaning, I can't stop you. Just –" he sighed and plunked the helmet onto Cytheia's head, hard enough to rattle her teeth "— take this, and get yourself some decent armor. The ghosts of those who died in vain are the most dangerous of all."
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Date: 2020-04-25 12:23 pm (UTC)