HI! Quick Author's note here. The beginning is just a poem preface, think of it as a prophecy (kinda). This preface will be short, but I guarantee lengthier chapters in the future.
Disclaimer: Not Lewis Carroll. But I could be Alice.
TO BE QUITE HONEST
A dark room.
A quiet night.
In the shadows.
It wasn't always like this.
It never had to be, that fateful day in August.
Curious, isn't it?
This meaningless survival.
The silence. The violence.
They called it Wonderland, you know.
That gap of beauty, that conflagration of human spirit, constantly burning in a glorious, deadly, effigy.
But eventually the fire returns to ash like a phoenix to it's resting-ground.
And so we must rise and diffuse the languishing smoke that rises sensuously from the ashes as if from a great hookah.
I call it The Abyss of Tartarus.
It consumes without discern. A prison for the titans of the past.
An underground war for survival.
Who says I still want to live in a world of nonsense?
Who says I want to live?
All I know is that I don't want to die
They call me the girl. I've never bothered to inform them of my name. Names seem so trivial now.
All that matters now are labels
Us and them.
Us versus them.
Me and my shovel.
A match made in heaven.
-Or is it hell?
I scour the streets by day.
I cower in the dark until dawn.
Because THEY like the dark.
I become vulnerable in the cloaking shadows.
And vulnerability is equivalent to death.
But there is something worse than the mindless cannibals of this terrible future.
There are the humans that profit from the terrors.
Men and women that harness these things
as raw energy
What's worse, HE is behind it
My father.
The House of Parliament is backing him, per usual.
But I am going to take them all down one by one.
Starting with him.
Goodnight, Mr. Snuffles.