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tamingthemuseTitle: Blue Sky
Fandom: Original
Prompt: # 83 (4) The Underground
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: Stand alone. A young woman recounts her childhood while hiding from the war that has come to her homeland.
She had thought it was a nightmare, all those years ago. It had been dark then, too. Perhaps it was only her memory that had made it so dark, while her childhood had been so bright, so oblivious.
Those were happy times, yes?
Playing in a field of flowers while her mother pinned clothing to a line and chickens cackled nearby. She’d no fears then. There had been nothing to fear.
Not like now.
They had lived outside the city throughout her childhood. At night, the city lights would light up the horizon and her mother would tell her stories about long ago, about kings and ladies, about adventures and dramas. Laying on her bed with her mother sitting beside her, speaking in her lovely voice had been her favorite part of the day.
Those carefree days that were no more.
Still, she had thought it an adventure to travel to the city. In a rickety automobile, borrowed from a neighbor, that puttered down the dirt roads her little family went to town. Her father had held onto her tightly as she sat in his lap, pointing out everything they passed. That small span of time was forever stuck into her memory. The sun shining, the sky clear, and her father laughing with her.
She missed her father.
The city had been everything she had hoped it would be. There were tall buildings everywhere, and even more people. A riot of color greeted her young eyes, colors that she had always since tried to capture on paper. Nothing had come close. Only her memory, and that dulled with time.
It was bittersweet, thinking about things that were once so wonderful, now so distant. Would the world ever hold color again?
In the city, she learned that she had two cousins. Jean-Marc and Nicole. They were her mother’s sister’s children, and nearly of an age with her. Jean-Marc was older, his hair yellow and wild, his brown eyes laughing. Nicole had been carefree, younger and dark compared to her brother. Both were as untamed as she and were willing to take the outsider for a jaunt around their neighborhood.
She’d seen so much, then. Striking people, amazing sights. It was all burned in her memory as bright as sunshine, for that had been her childhood, sunshine. It had all been so marvelous.
Until that day the earth shook.
It hadn’t been too horrible, she reflected. It had been her childish mind that saw it as the end of the world, but really, it wasn’t. The buildings swayed in place, dropping shingles and breaking windows. The roads cracked and some roofs fell in. She’d been told there had even been fires and looting in the shopping districts. Lots of people were injured, having objects and such fall on them.
The three of them had been outside, watching as their perfectly painted world had been marred with a terrible black ink stain. To this day, she remembered that old man with the blood slowly tracking down from his hair line into his eyes as he cried for his daughter. It wasn’t until later that afternoon that his daughter had found her way home to care for him properly.
He had been blind, she knew, his eyes cloudy and bare. Her cousins had taken her to meet him the week before and he had given them cookies. She had liked him, for he told her about parties he had once attended at grand hotels and opera houses.
That dream would never be fulfilled.
They had rushed home, each worried about their respective parents. There, all was well once her mother held her in her arms, cooing and crying at the same time. They were not allowed very far from the house until long after that.
Those days were full of cleaning, repairing what had been damaged and lost. The trio often found themselves offering their help to their neighbors for pennies here and there. Even in such a time, they had fun, for everywhere were people celebrating that fact that they were alive.
They were alive and they lived, they really lived.
Then she and her cousins found that dark place.
Jean-Marc spotted it first and couldn’t be swayed from exploring. Not that either of them had tired very hard. She knew that she had been full of curiosity, near bursting and Nicole was no different.
During the quake, the road had shifted, lowering and exposing the foundation of an old, old house. And there, below the newer cement, was an opening.
They had fitted through the whole easily and found themselves in a cavern, albeit, not a very large one. They had to duck so as not to hit their heads on the ceiling, or rather, the floor of the house above them. The floor they walked on was uneven and soft. It had been traitorous walking, having one’s foot sink into the ground. And there had been a stench.
The stench was still there.
Her foot had gotten caught, she recalled. It had sank into the filth that was the floor of the underground cave and when she struggled to pull it free, she had lost the string she and Nicole had tied around her ankle. Wanting to return to the surface, she pouted. The other two were curious as to how far the cave went.
And so she had followed them.
For the past twelve years or so, she couldn’t remember what had happened after that. That’s why she had always thought it had been just a nightmare. But, now, returning to the place, she could remember.
It was all coming back now.
She had turned to retrieve the little blue and red plaited strings and her hand had landed upon a skeletal hand, pieces of flesh still holding it together. She had screamed until her breath left her and she fainted.
When she had come to, she was back home, in her cousin’s home and thinking it naught but a horrid dream. Her cousins spoke not a word of their mysterious place. Their parents never knew.
Now, everybody knew.
Now, many were seeking the place out for safety. The world above was the new nightmare, filled with burning skies and bloodied waters. The air was dry and burned one’s throat, tearing the eyes.
Life was now dangerous and there were no blue skies to pretend that it was all just a nightmare. There was no more sunshine.
She followed the others as they walked down the darkened path. Her cave, once so full, was now emptied of the filth. The room was huge and open, air from above careening in from spots broken in the building above to whistle through the cavern. That room led off into another and another and then there was the most horrid scene of all.
A vast wall of bones. The wall went on forever it seemed, skulls missing the lower jaw peeking out in a pattern only the designers knew. It frightened her, sent chills down her spine.
Even worse, worse than her memory, was she smell. She could smell the stench of decaying flesh.
Suddenly, she felt a little hand slip into hers. She put on a brave smile and looked down at her little brother. Their father had joined the army. They had never seen him again.
A bomb had taken the life of their mother, and of Nicole. Late last year, Jean-Marc had gone off to join the army and she feared for his life as well. Now, it was just she and little Bernard.
Distantly, she could hear the sounds of the world ending above them as armies fought for power and control. Shuddering, she hauled Bernard close as they moved down the line of bones to a wall with Latin etched upon stone.
Having never learned the language, she ignored it and found a place to sit. She pulled her little brother onto her lap and hugged him close. She hid her tears in his hair as he played with the strings of her blouse.
What were they supposed to do now, here, in the underground of Paris, surrounded by millions of the dead?
More and more people were pouring in, all seeking shelter from the war raging on above. One man had brought forth a guitar and carefully plucked out a soulful tune. In another part of the cavern his tune was accompanied by a flute, then, even further off, another guitar.
Bernard smiled up at her.
A woman pulled her scarf from her head and splayed it out of the floor before setting on the edge and placing foodstuffs from a basket upon it. Smiling, she offered them to the people gathered. A few other women joined and soon there were candles lit and music filling the ominous catacomb.
Perhaps, she thought with a nod to her bother to share their foods, they would make it through this war, even if they did have to hide with the dead.
Fandom: Original
Prompt: # 83 (4) The Underground
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: Stand alone. A young woman recounts her childhood while hiding from the war that has come to her homeland.
She had thought it was a nightmare, all those years ago. It had been dark then, too. Perhaps it was only her memory that had made it so dark, while her childhood had been so bright, so oblivious.
Those were happy times, yes?
Playing in a field of flowers while her mother pinned clothing to a line and chickens cackled nearby. She’d no fears then. There had been nothing to fear.
Not like now.
They had lived outside the city throughout her childhood. At night, the city lights would light up the horizon and her mother would tell her stories about long ago, about kings and ladies, about adventures and dramas. Laying on her bed with her mother sitting beside her, speaking in her lovely voice had been her favorite part of the day.
Those carefree days that were no more.
Still, she had thought it an adventure to travel to the city. In a rickety automobile, borrowed from a neighbor, that puttered down the dirt roads her little family went to town. Her father had held onto her tightly as she sat in his lap, pointing out everything they passed. That small span of time was forever stuck into her memory. The sun shining, the sky clear, and her father laughing with her.
She missed her father.
The city had been everything she had hoped it would be. There were tall buildings everywhere, and even more people. A riot of color greeted her young eyes, colors that she had always since tried to capture on paper. Nothing had come close. Only her memory, and that dulled with time.
It was bittersweet, thinking about things that were once so wonderful, now so distant. Would the world ever hold color again?
In the city, she learned that she had two cousins. Jean-Marc and Nicole. They were her mother’s sister’s children, and nearly of an age with her. Jean-Marc was older, his hair yellow and wild, his brown eyes laughing. Nicole had been carefree, younger and dark compared to her brother. Both were as untamed as she and were willing to take the outsider for a jaunt around their neighborhood.
She’d seen so much, then. Striking people, amazing sights. It was all burned in her memory as bright as sunshine, for that had been her childhood, sunshine. It had all been so marvelous.
Until that day the earth shook.
It hadn’t been too horrible, she reflected. It had been her childish mind that saw it as the end of the world, but really, it wasn’t. The buildings swayed in place, dropping shingles and breaking windows. The roads cracked and some roofs fell in. She’d been told there had even been fires and looting in the shopping districts. Lots of people were injured, having objects and such fall on them.
The three of them had been outside, watching as their perfectly painted world had been marred with a terrible black ink stain. To this day, she remembered that old man with the blood slowly tracking down from his hair line into his eyes as he cried for his daughter. It wasn’t until later that afternoon that his daughter had found her way home to care for him properly.
He had been blind, she knew, his eyes cloudy and bare. Her cousins had taken her to meet him the week before and he had given them cookies. She had liked him, for he told her about parties he had once attended at grand hotels and opera houses.
That dream would never be fulfilled.
They had rushed home, each worried about their respective parents. There, all was well once her mother held her in her arms, cooing and crying at the same time. They were not allowed very far from the house until long after that.
Those days were full of cleaning, repairing what had been damaged and lost. The trio often found themselves offering their help to their neighbors for pennies here and there. Even in such a time, they had fun, for everywhere were people celebrating that fact that they were alive.
They were alive and they lived, they really lived.
Then she and her cousins found that dark place.
Jean-Marc spotted it first and couldn’t be swayed from exploring. Not that either of them had tired very hard. She knew that she had been full of curiosity, near bursting and Nicole was no different.
During the quake, the road had shifted, lowering and exposing the foundation of an old, old house. And there, below the newer cement, was an opening.
They had fitted through the whole easily and found themselves in a cavern, albeit, not a very large one. They had to duck so as not to hit their heads on the ceiling, or rather, the floor of the house above them. The floor they walked on was uneven and soft. It had been traitorous walking, having one’s foot sink into the ground. And there had been a stench.
The stench was still there.
Her foot had gotten caught, she recalled. It had sank into the filth that was the floor of the underground cave and when she struggled to pull it free, she had lost the string she and Nicole had tied around her ankle. Wanting to return to the surface, she pouted. The other two were curious as to how far the cave went.
And so she had followed them.
For the past twelve years or so, she couldn’t remember what had happened after that. That’s why she had always thought it had been just a nightmare. But, now, returning to the place, she could remember.
It was all coming back now.
She had turned to retrieve the little blue and red plaited strings and her hand had landed upon a skeletal hand, pieces of flesh still holding it together. She had screamed until her breath left her and she fainted.
When she had come to, she was back home, in her cousin’s home and thinking it naught but a horrid dream. Her cousins spoke not a word of their mysterious place. Their parents never knew.
Now, everybody knew.
Now, many were seeking the place out for safety. The world above was the new nightmare, filled with burning skies and bloodied waters. The air was dry and burned one’s throat, tearing the eyes.
Life was now dangerous and there were no blue skies to pretend that it was all just a nightmare. There was no more sunshine.
She followed the others as they walked down the darkened path. Her cave, once so full, was now emptied of the filth. The room was huge and open, air from above careening in from spots broken in the building above to whistle through the cavern. That room led off into another and another and then there was the most horrid scene of all.
A vast wall of bones. The wall went on forever it seemed, skulls missing the lower jaw peeking out in a pattern only the designers knew. It frightened her, sent chills down her spine.
Even worse, worse than her memory, was she smell. She could smell the stench of decaying flesh.
Suddenly, she felt a little hand slip into hers. She put on a brave smile and looked down at her little brother. Their father had joined the army. They had never seen him again.
A bomb had taken the life of their mother, and of Nicole. Late last year, Jean-Marc had gone off to join the army and she feared for his life as well. Now, it was just she and little Bernard.
Distantly, she could hear the sounds of the world ending above them as armies fought for power and control. Shuddering, she hauled Bernard close as they moved down the line of bones to a wall with Latin etched upon stone.
Having never learned the language, she ignored it and found a place to sit. She pulled her little brother onto her lap and hugged him close. She hid her tears in his hair as he played with the strings of her blouse.
What were they supposed to do now, here, in the underground of Paris, surrounded by millions of the dead?
More and more people were pouring in, all seeking shelter from the war raging on above. One man had brought forth a guitar and carefully plucked out a soulful tune. In another part of the cavern his tune was accompanied by a flute, then, even further off, another guitar.
Bernard smiled up at her.
A woman pulled her scarf from her head and splayed it out of the floor before setting on the edge and placing foodstuffs from a basket upon it. Smiling, she offered them to the people gathered. A few other women joined and soon there were candles lit and music filling the ominous catacomb.
Perhaps, she thought with a nod to her bother to share their foods, they would make it through this war, even if they did have to hide with the dead.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-24 10:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-28 04:37 am (UTC)I had a really hard time coming up with something to write for this prompt. When I hear 'The Underground' I think of the subway.