Hello! It is me, Decco. I started a small fanfiction that I never really got too into when I was on here a few years ago. However, my writers block is gone, I've gotten better, and have new ideas! Hope you like this new story, and will join my boy through his journey.
A female voice hums a sweet lullaby.
POST-APOCALYPTIC NORTH AMERICA - 2000
THE NUCLEAR WAR IS OVER.
HIDDEN IN THE MOUNTAINS, SMALL VILLAGES OF ANIMALS LIVE WITH HUMAN PERSONALITIES. THE EMOTIONS OF RAGE AND HATE ARE PHYSICALLY INJECTED INTO REGULAR MAMMALS AND SENT TO THESE CAMPS TO EXTERMINATE THE MUTATIONS.
The raw, raspy sound of an older male child struggling to breathe.
Drops of blood drip up the cliff wall, shown sideways. Decco, sixteen years old is lying on the ground, clearly in agony. A thick ribbon of blood is flowing backwards into his nostrils, and the view goes skywards. As it does, his dilated pupils shrink. The small stream of blood from his mouth drips backwards into his lips, as well as the single tear that disappears into his eye.
There was calming darkness present in the room of which Decco was in. Pitch black, like in his wildest nightmares. The same nightmares that which used to send him bolting upwards from his slumber at 2 AM. The nightmares consisted of one thing; his wild imagination. The voices in his head. The flowers that talked to him. The things he said to himself to keep him from the endless conclusion that he would never make friends, or that he was, in fact, abandoned on a doorstep sixteen years ago.
The spotlight shone on, and a calm, guitar melody wrapped around his ears, calming him. Blue eyes shining, they store in front of him. In the spotlight, a white dog on a small wooden stool. He had smooth, big black eyebrows, yet a calming demeanor about him that told Decco not to grab a shovel for self defence. Well, at least not yet.
The dog looked up when the verse finished, and he started his next one, looking to Decco with wisdom in his eyes, yet calming… “So, you’ve decided to move out? Get your own place? See the world?”
He couldn’t answer, yet, the mammal seemed to know what would have spilled from his lips.
“That’s groovy. Who needs someone telling you what to do all the time? You can do what you want, when you want, where you want.” He paused. “Yeah, living on your own, being free. It feels great.”
Blue eyes softened a little, the sixteen year old wanted to tell the dog all about the life he was handed, and how it sucked. He was always alone since birth.
“Still, if you’ve got some really tight friends somewhere nearby, then you know it’ll all work out.” The white dog before him reaffirmed. “Yeah man, friends are far out.”
Decco rolled his eyes momentarily. He had heard all of this before. “Friends make it better”, “as long as you’re strong”, yada-yada-yada… Funnily enough the one of many products of the nuclear war before him knew what was happening.
“Oh, I guess I’m kind of rambling. My bad. So, are you ready to hop on that train and go for a ride?”
And for the first time that day in that dark, spotlighted room, Decco spoke confidently. “I’m ready to go!”
With that, the dog looked back down to the guitar he was still strumming, and the human before him fixed his red shirt and his matching red, fleece horn hat. It would be okay… Maybe he wouldn’t be alone?
The music faded into the darkness, and so did the dog, farther from the reach of the sixteen year old, and then… gone.
Decco6226, this is a great start! I apologize for not getting to it sooner. Life tends to be more important than fun in my life it seems. Decco's past really enhances the experience I wish to have with this. I will be ever vigilant with my new found time to follow your story Decco! GREAT WORK! KEEP GOING STRONG!