Alright, attempt two. I have a better idea of where I want the story to go. I'll try to keep the edge in this story to a minimum. Have fun!
A child, no older than ten, walked around the village he lived in. The day was almost perfect. The sun shone through the cloudless sky. Birds sung their songs of happiness and innocence. The child was smiling and taking in the sights. People said hi as they walked by, but when his back was turned they would look over there shoulder with pity. His life is truly undesirable. His parents aren't good people. His father was the town drunk, and an abusive one at that. Every night he would be drunk, every night the child would recive a new scar. Not always a physical scar, but always one that hurt. The child's mother was no better. She did not hurt the child, partly because she was never home. When she was home she looked like she was far away. When she wasn't home she was surely partying away the night. The child only had one thing in his life, his brother
His brother was the only thing he loved. He loved his younger brother so much that he always shielded him from his fathers wrath. He taught his younger brother everything he knew. He gave any food he could spare to his brother. He learned to enjoy life for his brother. He realized that without his brother he would've ran away long ago. He wanted his little brother to have a good life.
The screams erupted first, then the gunfire. They came from the gate. Something was here. The child did what came to his mind first, run. As fast as his legs could carry him, he ran towards a little spot. He hid here when his dad was on a warpath. He taught his brother about this place too. A little dark hole under a house, three rows away from their own home. He reached the spot and almost dived into it. His brother wasn't there, but the gunfire was. Right outside he heard thundering boots and rifles. The cries were drowned out by someone shouting orders. The most prominent was, "Kill them all!"
After it went quiet the child emerged from his hole. The building he was under was on fire, like everything else. What wasn't on fire was smoldering in a pile. There were bodies laying about, but not enough to account for the whole village. He walked the lanes between the houses. It was almost sunset. The birds had been replaced by crows. They cawed and cawed and cawed. The sky was still clear, and there was no wind. The lack of wind meant that he got to smell everything. The blood and bodies reeked, the burnt ones were even worse. He didn't care about the head spinning aroma though, he had to find his brother. As he walked towards his house he looked around at the destruction. Everything was on fire here, the heat was almost to much. The child noticed the lack of bodies around him. He hoped that this meant people escaped. He quickly learned that they didn't.
Right in front of his house was a mound of bodies, many mounds of bodies. His house was on fire, the bodies were on fire. The only thing not touched by the flame was a teddy bear, his brothers teddy bear. It was trampled from the frantic escape. It was missing an arm and torn in several places, but it still looked like a teddy. The child took it into his arms and countinued his march through the town. He didn't see his brother with the dead, that meant he was either in another place, or inside one of the burning mounds. He didn't think about that though, his brother would survive, he taught him how to. He saw a body laying in the street. Fearing the worse he ran towards the body. Quickly flipping it onto its back he was met with a wave of relief. The body did not belong to his brother. With renewed energy he countinued on the path. His brother was alive, he could feel it.
He found his brother laying in a pool of blood. The street was stained red around him. He was on his back, looking up at the setting sun. The child was shocked. He walked towards his brother, no tears fell yet. He fell to his knees in the blood, ruining his clothes. The bear he griped in his hand now laying a few feet away, in the shade of the burnt out building. Why was his brother here? He told him where to hide, he even hid there with him. Why had he died here? But then it hit him, he screwed up. Sometimes he told his brother that the hole was in another place. He usually corrected himself afterwards, but not quick enough it seemed. The wrong destination stuck in his little brothers head. He was responsible for his brothers death. The tears he had been holding in suddenly surged past the flood gate that had constricted them. With them came cries of desperation and sadness. This was the first time his life was touched by war.
Suddenly, the scene changed in a world wind of black liquid. Now the child that was knee deep in blood and mourning was nowhere. In his place was a man, no older than 35, sitting in a trench. In the distance was the constant drum of artillery, alongside the sporadic pop of rifle fire. The man in the trench paid it no mind however, he had heard it every day for a few years now. He was to engrossed in what he was doing. He was making food for his friend and him. He had a little fire pit for cooking, he had a piece of shrapnel he attached to a broken weapon as his cooking dish, and he had his MREs and ingredients "liberated" from the locals. A few potato's, carrots, butter, water from his tin, and some A1 sauce from the quartermaster. This was one of his only comforts in life. Food in the trenches was horrible, but he hadn't had good food in an eternity. He couldn't tell bad from good anymore. Just then his friend walked into the section of the trench he was in. They embraced, greeted each other with insults, and dished up some food. While they ate their rudimentary meal they talked. They discussed their new service rifle and chain of command. Afterwards they sung. The song was horribly out of tune, but it was a song nonetheless. After a few patriotic verses, other sections of the trench joined. Eventually the whole trench line was singing. It was comforting to the soldiers, a comfort they would need in the coming days.
The next day was a meat grinder. The men had reached the enemies trench and were storming it with the ferocity of a giant lion. The enemy COs, in their infinite wisdom, ordered artillery strikes on their own trenches. Their strikes killed both sides without discrimination. The 35 year old soldier dived into the trenches to avoid death from above. In his desperation, he didn't stand back up. He opted to crawl through the trench. He eventually came to a section that had received a direct strike. Gore was plastered onto the scorched wood of the makeshift trench. There was a large divot in the middle of the trench, likely from where the shell struck it. Many guns piled at the bottom, guns that had belonged the the dead that were lining the trench. One dead stood out though, he was wearing his own uniform. The man decided that he should grab his comrades dog tags and leave the grave. Upon closer inspection he realized something, the body belonged to his friend. The same one he shared food with last night was in front of him, dead. He had lost his lower half, his left arm was also burnt. His helmet fell over his eyes, hiding his dead eyes look of betrayal. You should died in this trench, I have a family. That's what the dead man thought. The man shook the thoughts out of his head, grabbed the tags, then crawled away. The tears falling from his eyes accompanied by nothing but the sounds of war around him. He had already cried all his sadness away years ago.
Once again the black liquid came and washed away the scene, replacing it with another. This time the man was replaced with a slightly older man, 40 years old. He and four others were defending a door at the end of a long tunnel. They were trapped by the enemy. With no escape the men fought against their doom without a care for their safety. The five defenders were all that was left of the original 30. Eventually that five dwindled to one. The last defender was the man who had lost everything to a war that never ended. He was about to lose the last thing he had, his life. His order to defend that damn door seemed less and less important with every trigger pull. When he burnt through his last mag he decided something, he would die knowing what he had defended, what his comrades had defended. In an attempt to buy time he chucked a grenade at the enemy. Once it went off it caused a cave in of that particular part of the tunnel. Taking this time to fall back, he went through the large door behind him, bolted it shut, and piled up a desk behind it.
Inside the room, there wasn't much light. The only two instantly noticeable things in the room were a large dark pool in the back and a dead man in a folding chair. A dead man? Upon closer inspection the man was revealed to be his commanding officer. That where he got off to, coward. He clutched two things in his hands, a bloody pistol and a detonator. The lone solider walked to the dead man and retrieved the detonator. What did this activate, he wondered. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on a a small panel attached to the back wall, next to the pool. Walking over he noted that the pool started to churn and sputter with every step closer. The black liquid almost steaming. When he reached the panel a small smile found its way to his face. In the officers haste to kill himself, he forgot to activate the explosives rigged around the room. He had tried to destroy this room in his final moment, why? As the thought went through his head, the door started to get pounded on. The lone soldier was now aware that the enemy was physically on his doorstep. The officer had a reason to destroy this room, he must've. He would carry out the destruction, whatever this room housed could not fall to the enemy. Walking in front of the black pool, he spread his arms out and waited. The door was breached, but they were to late. The lone solider activated the explosives and fell into the pool. He was smiling all the way down. Many share memories like this, all different in their own way. Some have a better childhood, others have a better adult life. We all share this pain though, and now you also share it. You will help us live again! You are one of us!
The first thing the soldier felt from the liquid was cold, but that was quickly replaced by numbness. Then a voice rang out in a commanding way, "Rex Thomas, you are one of us." Rex wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He had no voice. The voice seemed to feel his growing unease, and said in a lighter tone, "I mean you no harm young one, please follow me." The voice seemed to come from everywhere in the darkness. Rex felt a strong pull towards the left. He took that as a hint for which way to go. Moving in the dark liquid was closer to walking then swimming, at least that's what Rex thought. He couldn't feel himself move when he wanted to. The only indication of movement was the sound of liquid rushing past his ears. Another indication was the voices. As he got closer to where he thought his destination was, he heard many voices. They were all different, and they all had something to say. "A new face!"
"He is like us."
"In your moment of weakness, you've become a God! How does it feel?"
"Do you like rasins?"
The last voice was particularly energetic, and strange compared to every other one. There were too many voices to pick out, millions wanted to talk at the same time. When he got to the place he wanted to go all the voices stopped talking. In front of him was a almost glass like barrier. It obscured what was on the other side, but he could finally see light. He could feel his legs and arms again. Once he noticed this a single voice spoke, "We're going to live again!" The voices, who had been silent till that point, started to laugh. One started, then another, then one more, until it sounded like an avalanche. There was so much noise he started to loose his hearing. Not wasting any time, Rex rushed the window. His efforts proved ineffective though, as the window retreated. He wasn't done though, he just ran faster and slowly gained on the door. When he was an arms distance away he reached through and grabbed onto a ledge. Using this he yanked his whole body through the opening and up onto a ledge.
Rex found himself laying in a dimly lit room. He rolled to his left so he could get onto his stomach, but nearly fell down a ledge. He looked around in disbelief, it wasn't a dream. The room was scorched by the explosives, the door was in pieces, and the desk he had used to block it was off in a corner. The only thing that was missing was the liquid that he fell into. The voices took that as their queue. "Rex, how do you feel?"
Owwwww, headache."
"Normal then."
"Abouuuuuut."
"Your not going to question the voices in your head?"
Laterrrrr." Rex stood and leaned against the wall. He had a splitting headache and unanswered questions. But the voices knew about the latter of the two.
"So you have questions."
"It's only natural."
"We will answer them." Rex slowly made his way to the only exit, the tunnel. The tunnel wasn't caved in, fully, at least. He started the arduous accent while listening to the millions of voices talk in turns.
"We are the oldest being on this planet."
"We are you now."
"You are the oldest being on the planet."
"Alright, everyone needs to give more than a sentence. The poor boy has a headache."
"So? He is a God now, he can't die."
"Wait wait, I'm a God?"
"Correction, we are a God!"
"Alright, I'm taking the mic. Kid, I'm gonna go over this once. You listening?"
"Am listening."
"Alright, we call ourselves the council. We are here to guide you in your new life. You are our new 'face', or host. You are also the holder of an ancient evil, all of us. You were tasked with defending us so the enemy couldn't have us. Both sides feared that the other would use us as a bio weapon, so each side sought to destroy us. When you tried to destroy the room, you unknowingly gave yourself as a face to us. We destroyed your body, and we are now emulating you body structure, even what you were wearing when you died." Rex looked down at himself, and was surprised. His clothes were the same, even down to the last bloodstain.
"And what about me being a 'God'? Is that true?"
"Well, your the closest thing this world has to a God."
"Are we immortal?"
"All God's are."
"Sweet."
After a few minutes of trying to memorize the names of The Council(and failing miserably), Rex reached the end of the tunnel. He saw vines covering the entrance to the tunnel, but he just walked through them out into the sunlight. When he finally reached the open air, the voices told him one more thing. "By the way, Rex, it's been 40 years since you died."
"Huh. That so. I think I'm gonna take a walk to Vale then.
Alright, I did it. I hope everyone liked this. There will be darker and lighter chapters in this story, so it won't cut anyone with edge... hopefully. Thanks for reading. Next chapter soon, don't die in the meantime!
