At first, it was quiet. Soundless, still, bodiless and void.
You could tell by the mist in the air and the chill in your lungs that it had to be early in the morning. Each breath was a cloud before your sleepless eyes, the bags beneath them prevalent in betraying a dozen sleepless nights.
Laying down, your goosebump-laden skin settled firm from the cold.
This was a building, you thought to yourself as you struggled to your feet. Wooden walls with a peeling green hue, windows smashed out long ago, furniture dusty, collapsing and aged.
A breeze ran in through a massive hole in the roof. A bomb must've taken this section off. Wooden debris, with the occasional ceiling tile thrown in, lie scattered at your feet.
The hole revealed a cloudy sky, the dark grey permeating with the telltale signs of an impending downfall. You could smell it, too. Petrichor.
With another breeze whistling through the shattered windows, you stumbled forwards in search of… something.
You desperately, tragically needed something. No doubts there. After all, rising from the ruins of a forgotten house leaves much to be desired.
But there was so, so much to need.
Warmth was a necessity.
In this chill, it was only a matter of time before sickness would set in. On top of a dull bruising in the thighs and buttocks, more ailments were the last thing you needed.
By extension, shelter would be a plus.
This ruined structure would leave you open to the elements, and with rain coming, there are no doubts that you'd be freezing wet in seconds.
Information would be critical.
Where even where you? Last you remembered… strange. What were you doing last? Where is this? It appeared to be the suburbs, but this looked nothing like it should have.
You shook your head, ridding yourself of the anxieties swelling up in your chest. You'd take it one step at a time- that was the best way to get things done, after all.
Wandering further into the building, you passed through a narrow, dimly lit hallway with old photo frames lining the walls. With cracks in the glass, you pressed forwards.
The floorboards creaked and sank under your weight as you entered a kitchen. Or what used to be a kitchen.
The room's floor tiles were cracking from an ever widening blast hole in the wall, debris of furniture, old countertops and glass scattered both inside and out.
A light hanging from the ceiling dangled in the wind, swaying with a clinking noise as pieces of metal and glass clicked against each other. Like a picture, you thought to yourself as you wandered further.
With another tenacious step forwards, the silence broke with a knock to your right, as if someone had tried to knock on the door. The firm, hollow rap stole your eyes in an instant.
With a goofy grin slapped on his face, a tall man that you swore you would have seen earlier looked you in the eyes.
Leaning against the wall, he had the demeanor of a delinquent. A rustic jacket lie tied to his waist at the sleeves, matching a dirty pair of jeans that looked a size too large.
With a red button-up shirt, the man looked as though he were straight out of some farm out on the Midwest.
He jut up his eyebrows with an aura of friendliness, hoping to dissuade you from running.
"Hey."
He spoke slowly, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"It's been a while."
You said nothing as you pivoted towards the man, thinking to yourself as you analyzed his words.
"A long while," he sighed, standing upright to fix his posture. "Look, I'm not asking for your forgiveness, although we need plenty more of that in this world."
He looked you up and down, seeing how worse for wear you looked.
"I'll skip the introduction." he affirmed, his fingers intertwined as if he wanted to hide something. Looking past your eyes, he continued. "I don't know if you remember me. I talked to you a while back, a long while actually…"
Trailing off, his reminiscing eyes wandered before snapping to attention.
"Just- you might remember that I was collecting stories. People's lives, people's experiences, that kind of stuff. And as much as I'd like hate to admit it, I'm down to my last pen."
He pat at his breast pocket, drawing attention to an old plastic pen clipped to his shirt.
"So this isn't going to work. For now, at least."
The man in the red shirt sighed, looking down as if your face was too unbearing to look at. An arm lie on the back of his neck as he waded through the debris, towards the big hole in the wall.
"I hope you understand, I'm not going anywhere." he paused, looking outside. You could hear a few droplets splashing into slowly boiling puddles of crisp rainwater. "No one is. Just… our story is taking a detour. At the very least until I can get myself another pen."
He halfheartedly chuckled, hoping you would laugh along as well. Staring into the clouds, he held back the desire to catch some drops on his tongue like a child.
You noticed him waving you forwards, and it wasn't long before you found yourself at the mouth of the blast hole. The smell of petrichor flooded the air, and the grin on the man's face was palpable.
The rain washed over the windows and walls, the pots and pans, wood and wallpaper, people and among the most impressionable of enemies that made you wonder how long it would take for them to realize their wrongdoings and go back, back to normal.
But you too looked up into the clouds and knew that there was no going back to normal. This was the new normal, and with the realization came a sense of ease. It wasn't easy to pick up at first, but there was solace in knowing this wasn't the end. It was never the end.
The first shots rang out far to the east, and you couldn't help but flinch at first. Like the rain, what first came down as a torrent was heard in a chorus of droves.
The man eased back inside, keeping a hand on the edge of the hole. "You hear that? They're clearing out the neighborhood. House by house."
You looked down the street and saw nothing but memories you wouldn't dare to recuperate. And the man leapt outside, feet sinking into the mud.
"No need to run now." he called to you, walking to the road without looking back once. "Rest easy knowing they're not looking for people like you. Here in Planeptune, dissidents don't hide. Not anymore."
The rain was deafening.
As he wandered into the water you saw a spectre treading the mist like a kite, delving deeper and deeper into the caverns of the fairytale land that, in another life, you would have called home.
And you too found yourself at the mercy of the omnipotent rain, apotheosis dead at your feet.
If it wasn't easy to pick up, I'm not going to lie anymore and just say outright that I'm putting Hearts and Minds on hold for now.
It's a shame that I haven't gotten to that full length chapter yet, which is one of the many things I've been wanting to do in my writing career at the moment.
There's a good chance that, with time and a good amount of hope, the next updates will come sooner than later. I happen to be in a downward trend of drive for H&M at the moment, and see a lot more to be improved upon in terms of writing and such.
However, do not despair! All is not lost: the Fanfiction archive is bounding with stories, and I see myself writing one or two others on my path to H&M bliss. Which, at the moment, is but a distant utopia. I highly recommend you keep your eyes peeled for other stories in the meantime, both my own and from other talented individuals, as we await further news.
As always, it's my pleasure to thank you for keeping up thus far, PMing me and bring a smile to my own face, and most importantly, for reading. You are what drives the universe at this moment, no matter how corny that may sound.
Take care, and I am more than happy to see you around.