Minority

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Another  Dystopia Rising story from another Dystopia Rising game. It stars my Unborn. The song she is singing is “Minority” by Green Day.

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“I wanna be the minority. I don’t need your authority”

The Unborn sang, gathering pieces of kindling from the ground. She held the edge of her brown wool coat in one hand to build a basket and slipped the driest twigs she pulled from the ground into the basket.

“Down with the moral majority, ‘cause I wanna be the minority.”

She brought the small pile that she had gathered over to the small ring of rocks and began to pile them up carefully in the middle of the ring. Keep them loose to allow for lots of air flow. Make sure there is plenty of kindling in the center, under the pile of sticks branches, but plenty left over to build up around it. This way the flames will lick the branches and build the bonfire.

“I pledge allegiance, to the underworld. One nation under dog, there of which I stand alone.”

Off to the side there was a pile of sticks and branches thrown to the ground. The Unborn made her way over to the pile and began grabbing some of the smaller branches. These branches would be built up around the kindling pile. They would burn longer when caught and help the larger branches to catch and stay caught rather than the fast burning kindling.

“A face in the crowd, unsung against the mold.”

The Unborn smiled as she sang and worked. She carefully piled the sticks and small branches around the kindling. She carefully stuffed excess kindling between the sticks. All the while building up the pile and continuing to sing and smile, her body swaying slightly in time to her song.

“Without a doubt, singled out,the only way I know.”

Back to the pile of branches she had gathered. She gathered the rest of the larger branches and began to stack them on the outside of her current small structure of sticks and kindling. She smiled as she put each stick down, carefully circling these sticks around the pile.

“Cause I wanna be the minority. I don’t need your authority.”

The Unborn placed the final branches into their spots with a smile. She glanced at the pile that she had created and nodded, carefully shifting the branches around til every one of them was placed exactly as she wanted. She grinned and lowered her face while keeping her gaze on the pile of sticks steady.

“Down with the moral majority, ‘cause I wanna be the minority.”

She dug into her pocket and pulled out the lighter. She grinned at her reflection in the side of the polished metal piece. Green skin, purple veins, black soot streaked across her face, gauze mask wrapped around her eyes.

“Stepped out of the line, like a sheep runs from the herd.”

The Unborn flicked the top of the lighter open with it’s familiar and reassuring click.

“Marching out of time, to my own beat now. The only way I know.”

She slid her thumb along the roller and watched a flames spark to life.

“One light, one mind, flashing in the dark.”

She held a small twig up to the flame and watched as it licked the twig and lit it to life.

“Blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts”

The Unborn flicked the lighter shut and slipped it back into the pocket of her jeans. She reached forward with the lit branch and slid it into the pile, into the collection of kindling. She let go of the branch and smiled, watching the flames dance from twig to twig and start to consume the pile.

“For crying out loud, she screamed unto me.”

The Unborn stood up and grinned at her creation. She swayed back and forth to the beat of the song and in time with the lyrics from her lips and closed her eyes beneath the gauze mask that she had worn for years due to the Fallow Hope caravan.

“A free for all, fuck ‘em all. You’re on your own side.”

She spun around and threw her hands out as she spun. The caravan would have scolded her for these actions. Dancing in the woods at night around a campfire would have led to her getting into a lot of trouble with Father Jacob. She smiled brightly as she spun around with glee.

“Cause I wanna be the minority. I don’t need your authority.”

The Unborn began singing as loud as she could, almost shouting out the lines in the light of the campfire.

“Down with the moral majority.”

She screamed out the lines as she yanked the mask off her head. No more mask. No more of Father Jacob’s orders or the caravan’s rules deciding how she acts years after being away from them and in a new town. No more of the past holding her hostage.

Now it’s time for the young Unborn to walk with her head held high, marching to her own drum.

The young Unborn screamed the last line of the song as she tossed the mask into the flame and watched it burn.

“Cause I wanna be the minority.”

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Burn

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New short story based on the events of last game. This one is from the perspective of She. As always, the main character is my own. The other characters mentioned in the scene are products of their own players. Jackal is the creation of another player and was used with his permission and input. Let’s just say, I’m really excited for this upcoming game!

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“What’cha doin?” Jackal asked, his face popping up and blocking the light from the campfire that they had built together.

The Unborn looked up from her work and rolled her white and black eyes. “You’re in my light,” she muttered.

Jackal shifted over a small bit and poked at the leather vest in the Unborn’s hands. “But really, what’cha doin?”

The Unborn sighed and brushed Jackal’s hand away from the vest. She picked up the small surgical knife and went back to carefully cutting the threads that held the blue and white patches onto the back of the vest. “I’m cutting off these rockers.”

“Pretty sure those ain’t rocks.”

“Rockers. Patches. Same thing. I never asked why they were called it.”

Jackal licked his blood stained lips and watched for a moment as the Unborn continued. Slice through a few threads, pull up on the patch so that it was easier to slice through more threads. The more she cut, the faster she got at removing the triangular patch from the vest.

“Wait, does that mean you’re not in Warsong anymore?”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

The Unborn looked up and glanced over to the Semper. “Let’s just say, the final straw was being told they didn’t have time to deal with my coming back from the grave and the screaming pain in my head and hands.” The Unborn paused and looked at her palm. She remembered the burning sensation in her fingers before pausing to shake her hands and going back to snipping away the threads that held the patch in place.

“That sounds really shitty.”

The Unborn nodded her head. “Yup.”

“She?”

The Unborn paused with a groan and glared at the Semper. “Anyxa.”

“What?”

“Anyxa. My name is Anyxa. Not she. Anyxa.”

“Oh… Then why do people call you she?”

Anyxa groaned and put the surgical knife down in her lap. “Because I didn’t use names. I wanted to show respect to people. To acknowledge that the ancestors invited them to the great whole just like everyone else. But no, ass holes don’t give a flying fuck who or what they do and respect. It’s all hide your face. Don’t scare them with your power. Don’t be alone. Save people but don’t come near the dying. Help the town but be nowhere near the problem. Don’t be trusted because of the power you have and where you’re from.” Anyxa paused and ripped the last few threads with a sharp yank on the patch, separating it from the leather vest. “Be held at arms length even though we promise we’ll take care of you. Fucking liars.”

Jackal stared a moment, licking his lips and sniffing as he turned to look into the woods. A quiet “I’m hungry,” muttered from his lips and then he turned back to Anyxa with a  shrug. “Yeah, people can be dicks. But actually, I more wanted to know why you were talkin all normal now and not like you usually do.”

“Because these fuck heads,” Anyxa glared at the patch in her hands, “don’t seem to care about respecting me so why would I respect them?”

“Oh yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

Anyxa pulled a square lighter from her pocket and grinned. She could see Jackal’s eyes light up in the glow of the campfire. She flicked open the top and with a swipe of her thumb, pulled a flame to the top of the lighter.

“If you don’t have time for me,” she muttered holding the patch over the flame so the flame could lick and taste it before beginning to consume the fabric and paint, “then I don’t have time for you, mother fuckers.”

Jackal grinned. “What’cha gonna do now? Hunt ‘em down? Can I come?” He balled his fists up and pulled them back, bouncing and ready to go.

Anyxa tossed the burning patch into the campfire.

“I’m gonna watch the world burn!”