Yours Truly, 2095

Oneshot

These cliffs, spanning the eastern edge of the island, form its highest point. The only nod towards safety from the jagged rocks below comes in the form of a high chain link fence, which has rusted and weakened over the years; this part of the island was rarely visited by the miners, as the crumbling cliffs held no valuable ores.
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ItzToxie
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Joined: Mon May 27, 2019 2:48 pm

Yours Truly, 2095

#1

Post by ItzToxie »

((Michael Crowe hobbling on from Now This Looks Like A Job For Me, So Everybody… Just Follow Me))

There was no light at the end of the tunnel, as it turns out. The day had come and gone just like that. The sky was mostly dark shades of purple, with a small line of red on the horizon where the sun used to be. On the opposite side of the sky, stars were forming...

Maybe it was a bit better than boring sunlight, to be honest.

Michael removed his sunglasses to get a better look at the sky as he continued his trek along the trail. Before this, he wouldn't mind some Blade Runner-esque future where the sun was covered by smog and the moon was covered by neon. He thought a future like that would be pretty bitchin'; especially if he was some sort of Judge Dredd tier gang leader like Ma-Ma or some shit. Then again, before this, he'd never seen the stars before, turns out light pollution in Denton was a bitch of a hoe, much like a Ben. Ben is a hoe.

Back to the point though, Michael wasn't sure which dystopian future he'd prefer. Mad Max would be pretty boss, but so would Blade Runner. Maybe an in-between like Escape from New York? It wasn't too far fetched to wait for a bad future, hell, he was already living in The Running Man, might as well live a bit longer to rescue the president from a former city turned prison, right?

Michael heard the ocean in the distance as he continued along the trail.
Michael leaned back against the gate, staring down the incline leading to the fall below. His eyes trailed down at the thin bit of coastline he could see, and the waves the spilled out into the horizon. The sky was nothing but stars now, and it was really something. The moon wasn't full, nor was it that badass crescent shape, so it was kind of underwhelming, but the damn stars were something...

He needed this, he needed just a moment to sit down and take in what in the fuck had just happened. Really, he wasn't sure how he felt about any of this, now that he's had time to think, now that he's been alone. Like, obviously everything hurts, and it hurts pretty damn bad, actually... Michael wasn't sure if he was getting worse or if he was just getting tired, but he felt a hell of a lot slower, and he could feel the strain in each movement he did.

He hoped he could have found Everett or Scarlett, but this island's just too damn big, they could be anywhere by now. He'd have as much chance coming across them by accident as he did on purpose. He had to just face it that he wasn't going to find them, but more than likely they would find him. Another fact he had to face was, after the shit he pulled yesterday, they probably wanted nothing to do with him anymore, it was his dumb ass that got Aaron killed. Not Everett's, not Scarlett's...

These last two days were something alright, but you want to know something? It got progressively better... As terrible as things were, as the deaths of Aaron and Simon were, as horrible as the pain he felt at the hands of Blaine... The day got better as it went on. Blaine was dead, and Simon saved his life. He found out that there were still good people, and still normal people. Michael liked to think he made up for what he did to Aaron by helping Maxwell, but that one wasn't as easy. He knew he'd have to do a lot more to make up for Aaron.

Michael wasn't too worried about Scarlett or Ev anymore... They were probably doing fine without him, better even. Maybe they've talked and created their own group with some other kids, maybe they've got something planned out. His eyes trailed to the lighthouse in the distance.

Maybe they were over there, right now. Probably not, but there was still hope.

He thought about getting up and going down there to check, but fatigue and aches were setting in hard as hell...

Fuck it, he'll go up there tomorrow, he's got all night.

((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere.))
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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