flashback.
A moth fluttered, its papery wings determined against the strong evening wind.
It was a life, full of endless possibilities.
The moth dipped, and into the fire it spiralled. Drawn to the light and the warmth, the hope and the promise. Its patterned wings caught the flame, and fluttered several times more before they ashed.
Death. How devastatingly final.
There was a tiny voice whispering in his head, repeating the same terrible sentence that he wanted not to believe in. You will not survive, it said. You will both die here.
Blood reeked and corpses piled. Monsters fed in a frenzy, delight evident through the grotesque noises of pleasure they made. And to think, just minutes ago, these monster had been children just like him, playing hide-and-seek in the courtyard under the watchful eyes of their caregivers.
Yoonjae felt the strong desire to turn around and face the corner, retch to his heart’s desire and then squeeze his eyes shut. Pretend this wasn’t happening, tell himself that it was all a nightmare, soon to be ended by dawn.
Dawn was indeed coming, but the reality was already here. Deep down, he was painfully aware of this.
You are going to die. The little voice persisted.
And that was the likely outcome, wasn’t it?
Why would he be different than the others? If the adults couldn’t run from the monsters or fight them off, then why should he, a scrawny little orphan kid who couldn’t even protect his own meals, dare to hope for anything different? Maybe he should just accept death and start on a prayer for the purity of his soul.
Yet there was a part of him that wasn’t satisfied with that. Life was difficult when his parents died. The car crash that took them both left him alive, and made him face a bunch of decisions that a kid wasn’t really meant to handle. Did he live through all that suffering...all that loneliness, just to die between the teeth of these things?
He swallowed back the bile that rose up in his throat and ran, clutching onto the hand of his last standing companion. No. He was not and must not be satisfied with dying.
They were going to hide.
Under the staircase they stayed for a while, and when they were discovered by a monster, Yoonjae tried his best to not scream.
They were going to run.
Up the stairs they went. He gripped Yizhen ( @yizhenumb )’s hand so hard that it must be hurting her, but he was too scared to be gentle. They couldn’t afford to get separated - couldn’t afford to trip. If these hands were ripped apart then they might never find each other again.
Yoonjae couldn’t breathing, his lungs felt like they were on fire. The monster was behind them, its three eyes multiplying into six, each a different colour. One of them seemed eerily familiar, though Yoonjae wished not to focus on those details.
The two of them were in the orphanage owner’s room, the one with the strongest doors in this building. It took the monster only one swing with its fleshy fist to create a massive hole in the middle of the door, and another to rip it completely out of its wooden frame.
Now they must fight back.
Yoonjae stumbled back, eyes frantically searching.
The monster lunged forward - time was running out. That decorative sword hanging on the wall to their right would have been a good weapon, but it was too far away. Only if Yoonjae could reach.
He raised his hand and something strange happened. The sword that he had his eyes on flew towards him as if it heard his desire. It landed, hilt atop his open palm, bloodied by the monster that it stabbed through in order to get to Yoonjae. The thing collapsed, black blood oozing from the hole the sword made through its neck. “I don’t think it is dead,” Yoonjae whispered, wrapping his fingers slowly around the hilt of the sword and turning the blade towards the still wiggling enemy.
Now they must fight back.
