New year's blood
Author's note: Inspired by: Lost (TV series), There Will Be Blood (2007)
A night to forgethe year is 1899, and all around, are the jubilation's of new year's eve in Webb City. The dawn of a new century. This was expressed in every man, woman and child as they paraded down the street, searching for the climax of their excitement. Balloons filled the air with vibrance and color, and were the only objects visible over the vast stretches of people who anxiously awaited the countdown to strike midnight.
Young Rex spoke. "Are we there yet daddy?" Asked Rex, anticipating an answer.
His father, and his mother knew the answer to this, and were keen to show him the displays of the night at the very, last, second. The 'Webb' over the city, a giant glass dome that loomed, omniscient over the population down below seemed to be the Center-piece, even though the people of Webb City had been trapped under it's spell of isolation. Keeping out the evil that lurked outside, so they thought.
The streets had been lined with paint, the curtains dressed in all shades of luminosity. The tension of the evening was to be cut, just as short a time it took for the curtains to draw open, and the stage, primed. Rex's father heightened Rex so that he could take in a larger view of the wonderful atmosphere.
"You can open your eyes now, Rex." His father whispered.
A suited man appeared on stage, his top hat gleaming in the limelight. His face, lit up with the excitement of the crowd; but also full of bleakness and sorrow for what he was about to utter. Whatever he was about to say, it wouldn't be the best of news. He scratched his beard, white as the light that surrounded him.
"Ladies and gentlemen." he began.
"The entertainment you have all come here for has been only slightly delayed."
he reassured the crowd, but it seemed that he was being given directions, no doubt by the rambling production team that sat behind the curtain. This was not a 'delayed' evening.
The crowd, dismayed by the painful words that had just entered their ears, were just as quick to jeer at the bearded man on the stage. The clock that held the atmosphere over that night, had stopped. Motionless. It was as if time altogether had stopped; for, this was Rex's evening, promised by his father. The horde became more and more inpatient, growing with need and unwillingness with every living breath. It was only a matter of time before the cities troubles were brought out, on such a spectacular evening. One man Pointed at the stage, then leaped to a conclusion.
"People, this is obviously not the evening you turned up for, we have to d-."
His sentence was cut short, as a hooded man, dressed in the most absorbing of black, cast a bullet into the man's heart. The trigger of a ticking time bomb. Rex was pulled down immediately by his father, his mother, however, was already in shock.
"Stay here, Rex." Demanded his father, as he hurried across the now fleeing crowd.
His mothers hands swept across the palm of his, and with a final look, goodbye.
Rex was alone. A dark, crowded space was his stage, his only thoughts, struck him down; Like a force of nature, a dealer in thunder and death. He could not think, only see the untold misery of what was to come, for, his own parents had abandoned him; as they themselves had now been sent to their graves in the chaos. The promise was broken. And now, only he stood to face what is left to come. With anticipation, Rex fought his was through the crowd, pushing, shoving, tripping. Then running. The vast ocean of people seemed infinite, and with every turn, more arose. A state of panic had inflicted everyone's minds, and a scent of rebellion was in the air. Rex wondered. Why was this happening to him? But more importantly, where were his parents? These thoughts occupied his mind as he covered distance, something which everyone was trying to do. Children, grasping the arm of their mothers and fathers, only to have that bond the last thing they would share as they were cut down to the ground.
The crisp, cold air bit into his cheeks as he sliced through the air, like a bullet through the brain. To his astonishment, newspaper stands were still in operation. "Extra, extra, read all about it." one man cried out. The world was evidently falling to pieces, pulling itself apart, and in the midst of all of this chaos, one man stood out from the crowd. As if nothing had happened. The gunshot that had sent a shock-wave of fear and blood through the air was the only thing still keeping young Rex on his feet. The quarrel and strife of this broken city had visually ceased, for not even rats scurried across the taunted alleyways. Another object had caught his eye. A church, ravished with all manors of Propaganda, intrigued him. He drew closer.
A glow of hope in this desolate land shone, and with a glimpse, freedom. As Rex staggered inside this holy place, the walls seemed to bleed with red banners displaying a face, one of courage. A leaders face. Red carpet also lined the floor, stretched, burnt, torn. This was the path Rex was taking. Pacing down the isle, he began to make out another boy, standing with his father. The man, whose face was manifested on the banners that drooped down beside him. These people had a holy essence about them, and their very presence seemed to make the church brighter, more illuminated.
"Welcome." bellowed the boy's father as his voice tried to reach out to him.
Rex fell silent, still taking in the florescent view that also welcomed him. Rex swiftly saw a man, dressed in robes, speak to the boy's father. He paused. Then proceeded to follow him away from Rex's view. By now, Rex was at the altar, at which the boy had been praying. He had not seen Rex enter, but had heard the booming welcome made by his father. The boy looked up.
"Welcome." peacefully announced the boy.
He could sense the fear and dread on Rex's face, as he had heard the commotion outside.
"I'm Felix, by the way, and that man on those banners, that's my dad, Peter, the leader of some kind of rebellion, but he says that I'm too young to be asking him about that." Exclaimed the boy.
Was this the same 'rebellion' that had kick-started this nightmare, Rex wondered. The boy's father briskly walked back into the church, as he muttered to himself, his face grew, ever with discontent.
"Rex." mumbled Rex as Peter walked briskly towards him.
"Felix, we really must be on our way." Insisted Peter.
A man, in robe and overcoat, addressed Peter.
"It's stopped." Uttered the man as he sat, staring outside into the abyss.
A roaring thunder blasted it's way through the air, bringing death in it's trail, and a shattering, tore through the city. The air became infested, as this 'Great Evil' had now besieged the great city, ripping it apart like wings on a butterfly.