Zeeton Apocalypse

I walk past grimy buildings plastered with what seems to be carcasses of animals. My heart is pounding fiercely. I wonder why nobody has heard the beating of my heart because it sounds like the beating of a drum. I grip the parchment, my only hope of escape, tightly to my chest. The world has collapsed after the Zeeton apocalypse and the document is a proof of my resistance. People nowadays don't know how to differentiate between a Zeeton sympathizer and an honorable citizen. Maybe because there isn't much honor left.

Zeetons don't prefer this part of the area which is why I linger and investigate. I am still not at ease and i nervously shoot glances towards the dark alley behind me. We anti-zeetons tend to hastily walk towards our destination and don't wander. It's a survival code and we adhere to it. My newly laundered linen shirt is covered in sweat and clings to my back. I remove it and wave it a bit so as to dry it. It has been really difficult to shop for clothes after the apocalypse. We wear what we get. Sometimes I get lucky and find clothes from the ruins of a boutique. There is inexplicable joy in finding expensive looking things for free and these little moments of happiness are all that we can enjoy now. 

I trip over a crumpled empty can and almost topple over but a hand stops my fall. A tall figure wearing a mask has his hands around my waist and I try to resist. I cannot surrender I think to myself determinedly. I viciously bite the persons arm and make a run for it. The stranger grabs me in one long stride and I huff angrily. Suddenly the person takes off the mask and I find myself staring at the beautifully chiseled face of a teenage boy. He's older than me and his auburn hair falls over his steely grey eyes. He is a Zeeton I realize with a jolt.

An Infestation

Sometimes I reminisce about the joy of being a child, huddling in a crocheted orange blanket with my mother while she narrated stories to me. I can recall my grandmother telling me about the sinister yet seductive fairies who wanted to cross a mountain to murder several nymphs. I can’t seem to recall the time when my cousin was apparently possessed by multiple ghosts. I just remember the stories she told me about her experience and her absurd facial expressions. There are so many enchanting tales, but they have all become vague memories now. Regrettably even the story tellers cannot seem to recall the tales they filled my ears with. There is only one story that actually stands out and that I remember details of.

It wasn’t a story about fairies, dwarfs, ghosts, princesses but a story about a bug infestation. When my mother was young, a girl lived in her house whose hair overflowed with bugs. Apparently only the bad girls suffered from this infestation during my mothers time, girls who lied, cheated and never studied.  So this young girl, who was called Baby, was the foulest of the foul. She liked shirking from household chores and loved cheating and telling lies. Some say that she was a compulsive liar and could not help but lie, they pitied her. The bugs however did not.

One fine night as my mother was sneakily walking towards the living room to watch TV she saw baby gliding on the floor. My mother shrieked but baby seemed to be in a trance. She slithered towards the door resembling a skinny python while mother just stood there with wobbly legs in her flowery shalwar kamiz. Suddenly my mother saw the ‘million’ bugs that were carrying her towards the door. They lived in her hair and plotted the kidnapping while Baby remained oblivious.  My mother claims that Baby was being taken to the land of doom where all the evil kids went. 

So my mother reacted by throwing an entire jar of pickled mangoes on Baby and successful woke everyone up (except for Baby obviously). By the time everyone woke up and came to the living room baby had disappeared. My grandfather was apparently the hero of the story since he successfully retrieved Baby from the land of doom where she was being held against her will. She came back with a bald head and a transformed personality. She was now the epitome of honesty and volunteered to do even mothers chores.  I just don’t understand why the bugs did not take mother away for sneakily watching TV at night. That was the only flaw in mothers story, a made up story I realize now.