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Halira


I write a variety of stories in different styles.My Patreon Page

More Blog Posts468

  • 8 weeks
    Slight Delays With Content

    I have returned to working 60 to 70 hours a week, so there will be delays on chapters. I just wanted to give a heads-up.

    0 comments · 42 views
  • 17 weeks
    Other Content

    I do plan things out far ahead time, and do have a sequel story to this one in the works, although it is another sequel that could stand alone. Figured I would give a preview of what might be in that story.

    I sat down in my seat, barely able to contain my excitement. I got a few strange looks from the students near me, but I didn't care I was here! 

    Read More

    1 comments · 85 views
  • 17 weeks
    Character Alignments

    We have some more D&D alignments! Remember, evil doesn't mean haha-bad guy, it means they do things for selfish reasons with little or no concern for others.

    Jessica Middleton: Neutral Good
    Jordan Gilmore- Neutral Good
    Charlotte Martinez: Lawful Good
    Arachne Phobia Lamp: Neutral Evil
    Nightmare Moon (Phobia Remedy's son): True Neutral
    Tempest Shadow Smith: Neutral Good

    Read More

    1 comments · 96 views
  • 19 weeks
    You Decide

    Not the most exciting you decide ever, but I'm honestly lost on what to include here. Wild Growth is in a Senate Committee Meeting....what Senate Committee is this and what are they discussing? It's 2043, you decide the issues. Give me your best suggestions.

    5 comments · 120 views
  • 19 weeks
    Worth Talking About

    1 comments · 70 views
Jul
2nd
2021

Supplimentry material: Ayedonno, Moses, and the Doll · 6:41pm Jul 2nd, 2021

A baby crying; that was the first thing I was aware of. 

I opened my eyes and immediately brought an arm up to shield them against the glare of the sun. I was lying on my back, somewhere outside, and it felt like I was lying on a pile of jagged rocks. The crying continued somewhere close to me. 

After I turned my head, I lowered my arm. I was indeed laying on a pile of rocks, or at least, I was laying on a pile of smashed and broken concrete. I could hear the sounds of a stream or river, and I heard pops and cracks in the distance. I also continued to listen to the incessant crying of a child. Beyond that, I knew nothing about where I was, how I got there, and (most disturbing of all) I had no idea who I was either.

The crying was too much for me to ignore. I flipped my body over so I could better see the source. A mere meter from my head was a wicker basket with a handle on the edge of a riverbank. The wails were coming from within. Outside the basket was a worn and ragged human doll, made with what looked like brown sackcloth with black button eyes and a single black string for a mouth. It lay against the side of the basket as if deliberately placed there to be the first thing I'd see when looking in that direction. The basket itself was a simple wicker basket, worn and wet as if it had just come out of the river. The doll seemed perfectly dry in contrast. I, too, felt dry, and I wondered if I had placed the doll there.

Laying here wasn't accomplishing anything. I focused on pushing myself up into a sitting position. The rocks were hard on my hands, and I could feel them digging into my knees as my weight shifted. Once I was in a sitting position, I tried to stand up next. It took a little effort, but I managed it. Once I was standing, I was finally able to take stock of myself. 

My hands were pale as if they hadn't seen sunlight in years. They were also filthy and so thin I could make out the outlines of the bones within them. My arms were exposed and in the same condition as my hands. I was wearing a rough pair of pants, which had holes throughout them, plenty of dirt, and several stains that I was sure were blood. My shirt might have once been white, but it now resembled the color of mud and had even more rips and holes and even more bloodstains. 

Standing up also gave me my first honest look at my surroundings. I could see the other side of the riverbank, but it was a considerable distance to swim, especially if fighting the current. There didn't seem to be anything of interest on that side of the river anyway; the land was just an empty area, with light grass and mountains far in the distance. I assumed the river's source was somewhere in those mountains, and if I followed it upstream, it would curve towards them. I watched as pieces of odd-shaped debris were carried by the current, and I gasped as I realized one of those pieces was a mutilated human body. A few seconds later, another body could be seen being carried down the river, which had the unmistakable pastel-colored fur of a pony. 

I quickly turned away from the death-filled river, only to be greeted by more horror on my side of the riverbank. A few paces from where I had been lying was another pony's body, an earth pony, with a massive bloody hole on the side of his body. Flies buzzed about The body in a swarm. Further back in the distance, a building, perhaps an old farmhouse, burned, sending pillars of smoke into the air. In front of the burning building was what appeared to be, at first glance, a bonfire, but an agonizing second glance showed it to be a pile of burning bodies, both human and pony. An unexploded artillery shell was within dangerously close distance to the flame. The only sounds now we're the cracking of the fire and the never-ending ending cries of the baby. 

I ripped my gaze back to the wicker basket, as it was the only thing around that didn't hold any obvious horror. Standing up, I could see its occupant, a tiny orange pony foal with a yellow mane. I moved towards the basket, half stumbling from the weight of my surroundings. I bent down and looked more closely at the foal. The foal noticed me at this time and stared back at me as if trying to decide if my sudden presence was welcome or not. 

It seemed to be an earth pony colt. I saw no wings or horn, nor any crystalline quality to his fur. I assumed it was a colt, but the only way to confirm that for sure would be to pick him up and examine him. The colt still seemed to be deciding whether I was a friend or a monster, so I was not ready to unleash his screams on the world again by picking him up when he wasn't yet prepared for some stranger to do so. At least the crying had stopped. It had been an ear-sore, to begin with, but our surroundings indicated that it was not the best idea to draw attention to ourselves. Wherever we were, we were in a war zone, and we didn't even know who the sides were yet. 

Hoping to make some gesture to gain his trust, I looked for the doll that had been lying against the basket, but it didn't seem to be there. I shuffled around as I crouched and even looked underneath myself, but there was no sign of the weathered plaything. Where could it have gone to? It was just here, and it wasn't close enough to the river to have been caught in that, and there was no breeze to have blown it away. My search for it turned up nothing. It was like it had just gotten up and walked away. It had to have been real; there was no way I could imagine something like that in such detail. 

I turned back to my lone companion. "Please, keep quiet. I'm going to help you, but you have to keep quiet." I hoped my offer for help wasn't a lie, as I was unsure if I could even help myself yet. 

The colt kept silently staring at me, which wasn't crying. It clearly had yet to make up its mind if the strange human in front of it was friend or foe.  I decided to keep talking to him. "I don't know my name or yours. I don't suppose we need them yet. We do need to find food and shelter. Do you think you can be quiet for me? Please?"

No answer, but no crying. He seemed too young to give a verbal answer anyway. I don't know why I was acting like he would. I was going to have to carry his basket. He might be surging, and a surging earth pony colt could seriously injure me. I reached out to grab the basket, and the colt started to whimper as he watched my hand. "Hush," I whispered as I grabbed the handle on the basket. When he saw my hand wasn't going for him, his whimpering stopped.

The smell of burning flesh and fur was starting to get to me, and I could only imagine how bad it was for the colt with his more developed sense of smell. I held the basket at my side and tried to decide where to go. The mountains might provide the best chances of shelter, but the bodies floating downstream indicated that going in that direction likely led to more horrors. There was a dirt road that led away from where the house was, and now that I was looking beyond it, I saw other pillars of smoke in the distance. I looked downstream and saw even more smoke clouds rising in that direction. 

The only direction that seemed safer was on the other side of the river, but I had no way of crossing it here. There had to be a bridge or something somewhere, but I would have to follow the river to find it. There were patches of tall grass and small thickets of trees on this side of the river, so there were places to take cover. It was concerning that the other side of the river seemed barren of anything larger than a small bush. If we made it to the other side, there wouldn't be much cover to be found. That was a worry for later; with luck, the landscape on the other side changed further along the river. 

After a lot of internal debate, I decided to go upstream. There were fewer signs of fire in that direction, and both directions promised carnage. Moving towards the mountains might mean finding alternative sources of water from smaller streams. We were not going to be drinking water out of something with dead bodies floating in it. Maybe we would be viewed as non-threatening by whoever the combatants were, and they'd leave us be. I didn't think that was going to happen, but I tried to find small hopes. We needed any small hope we could find. 

I started walking, baby and basket in tow. Still unsure of anything and ignorant of even my name. I had just two things: a baby that I had no intention of letting die and my own will to survive. It was all the foundation I needed; the rest, including answers, could come later. 


There were small bushes and tall grasses here and there near the riverbank, and I kept to them as much as I could. I had been traveling for hours, and aside from the colt, I had yet to encounter another living person. That could be a good thing, as I'd also not figured out who was trying to kill who in the conflict that we found ourselves surrounded by. There was also still no clear way to cross the river safely, even though I hoped by now we could have found a boat, bridge, or perhaps a shallow area. There were few more bodies seen in the river, including several that had washed up on the opposite bank, and one pony that had washed up on our side. I did my best to give the body as much space as possible when I passed it, after having made sure there were no saddlebags to search. 

For the first time in hours, I spotted a house, and this one wasn't in flames or complete ruin. I huddled near a bush, with the colt and his basket kept low. He had been largely quiet through the journey, only engaging in small amounts of baby babble here and there as we went. I knew that couldn't last, as he was bound to be getting hungry, and a hungry baby tended to get very vocal about its needs. Just because I hadn't spotted anyone as of yet didn't mean there weren't potentially people within earshot, and there was no telling if they would attack if they found us. Traveling on foot across unpaved areas while carrying him was also wearing down on my energy. We both needed food, and this house presented the first chance at finding some.

I watched it for several minutes, straining my eyes and ears for any sounds of activity. It was dead quiet. I didn't see any vehicles or signs of livestock. A dirt road curved away from the house towards a wooded area. It looked like a place that should have had some livestock since it had a fenced area that looked like it was used for small-scale grazing. There was a garden area with a variety of things growing in it, but I couldn't tell at a distance precisely what. The house looked to be some adobe brick that had been whitewashed. The door was ragged and had large enough chunks of it missing near the edges that rodents could easily get into the house. The windows slightly crooked squares that didn't seem to have any glass and had sheets of fabric hung up inside to cover them. There was a chimney that showed no smoke, despite the fact the temperature seemed to be dropping quickly as evening approached. No tools were lying about, but there was a small shack nearby that had the door wide open and appeared to be empty from where I sat.

It seemed abandoned, and I was going to risk trying to go in and try to scavenge for what I could. It didn't have a look of long neglect, which meant that its former occupants might have just recently left in a hurry, and in that hurry, they may have left something of use. Even that fabric that covered the windows might be of use for making a shelter or covering up through the night. I had a feeling that the nights would get very cold here. There was a slight temptation just to try to take shelter in the house for the night, but the house would be a magnet for others to investigate, and I didn't want to meet whoever else was out here just yet. 

I grabbed the handle of the colt's basket. I was going to have to give him a name at some point. I couldn't just keep calling him the colt, but I could figure that out later. I didn't want to leave him unattended, and his basket also served as my primary place to put anything I found. He might not enjoy sharing his space, but he'd have to live with it. Perhaps I could make a rough sack to sling over my shoulder if I found enough items. 

My attention turned to the colt, who looked back up at me in interest. "You just keep being good and not crying. I will try to find us some food and something to help keep us warm at night. Just don't cry, okay?"

The colt babbled and blew bubbles with his spit. I reached down and wiped his mouth with the dirty wool blanket that he was wrapped in. That elicited a small giggle from him. I had to admit, he was calm for a baby and seemed to have decided I was a friend. I'd name him later tonight. We just had to make it through our first day together. 

I moved as silently as I could towards the house, still listening carefully for any sounds of activity. I kept darting my eyes left and right, on edge that someone would suddenly step out into the open. It wasn't even wholly fear that some hostile soldier would be responsible for the death and destruction that pervaded the area. I had the intent of looting, which was a crime, and despite how unlikely it was, some part of my brain insisted that the house's owners were going to come walking up and catch me attempting to burglarize their home. Perhaps it was a sign that whoever I was, I had a conscience. Trying to save the colt might be a sign of that, but it took someone truly vile to abandon a baby to die. 

When I reached the door, I paused and listened again for any signs of life in the house. I was sure that whoever lived here must have fled, but I couldn't be sure. After a long few seconds debating it with myself, I decided to do something that might be stupid; I gently knocked on the door.

"Hello? Anyone here? I'm just looking for food. I don't know where I am or what's going on."

No answer came, and I took that as the house was abandoned. I didn't see anything resembling a lock on the door, so I pushed it open and crept inside, closing the door behind me. 

The house seemed to be one big room, sectioned off into small areas by large sheets of fabric that gave little areas of privacy. Light flustered in through the material covering the windows, and it was bright inside despite the coverings. The floors were dirt that had been packed and beaten down, and there weren't any signs of electrical items. A few wool rugs were placed about, and I wouldn't be surprised if they doubled as beds in some cases since I saw no mattresses anywhere. A large table seemed like it might serve as a work area, dinner prep area, and eating area all in one. Five chairs that were fashioned for humans surrounded the table. A fireplace took up a large portion of one wall, and a few shelves held assorted items and jars. On the table, there appeared the be the remains of some still in progress woodworking, along with a large sheet of paper that might be a newspaper. 

I immediately went over to investigate the paper, eager for any answers about where I was or what was going on. When I got a closer look, I lost hope in that. It was all print, without any pictures of any kind. It was divided on either side into two print sections, but neither side was intelligible to me. The left side looked like it was written in Russian script; at least, I was pretty sure it was Russian. The other side was written in a completely different script, perhaps Arabic or some Turkish script, but neither side was anything I could read. I didn't see anything resembling a date anywhere. I supposed that it still gave possible clues about where I was and racked my brain for where these two scripts might be commonly used together. Perhaps one of the various 'stans' of central Asia. I tried to think of anything I knew about them but came up empty. It seemed I had some education that I could draw upon, despite my lack of memory, but that education had its limits. 

The shelves were the next thing I checked. There was some light dust on the shelving, and I could tell that many items had been removed very recently, based on their outlines which showed lesser amounts of dust within. Mostly jars had been taken, although the impressions of what looked like a knife and a hammer had also been left behind, in addition to a few other prints that I couldn't decipher. The remaining items seemed to be leather straps, some brushes, and closed jars. I opened up one of the jars and sniffed, before resealing it. Whatever that was, it wasn't food. I checked the other pots and found similar results, with at least two jars I was sure were filled with paint. I guessed that this was where they kept supplied they used for crafting, and they had taken the essentials with them when they fled. I did find a few candles and a box of matches that had been shoved into the corner of one shelf, which may have led to it being overlooked. I took the candles and the matches and placed them on the table. I would gather everything that might be of use there and make my decisions on what I could afford to carry when I was done. 

I checked each of the areas that were sectioned off for privacy. One place had some simple wooden toys within; wooden cars, ponies, and people. There were some loose clothing in that area that would fit a child and seemed to be for a boy. The next place had not much in terms of non-essential items, but did have some more loose clothing, this time more suited for a girl. The final area had a small chest of drawers, and an investigation of them just found more clothes, some combs, a hairbrush, some rags, and a pair of scissors. A few articles of clothing seemed to be American-made since they advertised American products like Pepsi Cola, but they seemed pretty old and ragged. I took the scissors and placed them on the table. 

My investigation hadn't turned up as much as I would have liked. The candles, matches, and scissors would probably be helpful, and I grab one of those large wool rugs to carry things in and cover up with at night, but I was hoping for food. Food had probably been one of the items that the former occupants had been most keen on bringing with them when they left. 

I sighed and turned to go pick out a rug to make use of but went stiff as stone when I saw a doll sitting right in the middle of one of them. It was the exact same doll from earlier; I was sure of it. There was no way that an exact match for something so old and raggedy would just turn up here. Even more, I had already checked out that area, and the doll hadn't been there a moment before. 

I looked around the room. The door was still closed, and I was sure I would have noticed anyone entering it. None of the coverings for the windows seemed to have been disturbed. Yet someone had brought the doll in and set it down in here while I was checking the place out. I saw no shadow outlines behind any of the privacy areas. This didn't put me at ease; it only increased my tension. I put the basket down on the table and walked over towards the doll. 

It was the same doll. It had those same button eyes, the exact single string for a mouth, it wore the same dirty dress, and it looked like it might be well over a hundred years old based on the wear and fading. I cautiously reached down and picked it up. It was no hallucination; it was solid to the touch. I turned it over in my hands, and in the back of the doll, I saw a single word written out in Devanagari script in faded black paint, Chaaya. 

There was nothing else of note about the doll. I flipped it over several times in my hands and carefully squeezed it to feel if there was anything hidden inside, but there was nothing. I absently took a step forward, right onto the spot the doll had been laying, and I heard the creak of wood rather than the hard-packed dirt from everywhere else. I also heard a muffled gasp from below me. 

The house was still occupied.

Report Halira · 119 views · Story: Marshmallow Dreams ·
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