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Info Dustfall is about a dying world where people struggle to survive, let alone find a reason to. At its heart, it's a story about a young soldier, Vivianne, trying to live up to her parent's contradictory expectations as she's thrust into a position that she isn't prepared for.
Written by I've been making this world for quite a while now, and actually this started as a video game! Over time of developing and getting out the alpha release for Dustfall, I've begun to fall in love with this world. It's been quite a few months since the last time I wrote creative narrative fiction, but this world reignited my passion for it. I hope you enjoy the story of Vivianne! |
Dustfall | Chapter 0
My father never hit me as a child, but I still remember the way he'd yell at me. I still remember the way I'd choke on my own breath as I get smaller and smaller, shrinking into a ball. Every word he spit at me felt like a knife sinking deeper and deeper into my chest. My ears flattened, my fur prickled, and my lungs wanted to rip out of my chest. At a certain point the pain stops. Long after it becomes unbearable. I lose sight of the room around me and my father's spiteful face became a mere echo.
My mother was a kind woman. One that is too good for this pitiable world. She always took my hand and traced a spiral across my fur with her finger. I remember how she always did that when everything felt like too much. "Just focus on this," she'd say, tracing my hand. "Let everything else fade away." And then after a she slows down and pauses, she'd grab my nose and we'd both laugh. That always made me forget what my father did to me.
Yet I only need to keep a picture of one of them.
My boots clack against the floor as I walk through the dimly lit hallway of the medical bay. Many of the doors to rooms are ajar, they're completely vacant with lights turned off. Thoughts numbly buzz in my head as I gently try to ease my focus to my surroundings. It never helps that everything in here is a bleak shade of grey covered in a thin layer of dust. Every chair, poster, and cart looks to have aged well past its prime. My fur prickles. For everything to be so well used, yet vacant.
A row of five chairs are lined up against the left wall of the hall. A fellow newbie sits in one of chairs; she's the first person I've encountered so far in the medical bay. She wears a sorrowful expression, her orange eyes drooping as she holds a stuffed animal and a sewing needle. "Hey Mira," I speak quietly. Mira flinches, stabbing herself with her needle as she looks at me, eyes wide.
"Y-yes?" She gasps.
I sigh, "oh, it's nothing." I take the seat beside Mira, pitying her frightful demeanor. "How's your sister doing?"
Mira's ears flatten and her pale yellow fur sticks up. She looks down at the stuffy as she mumbles, "she- she'll be alright."
Seeing her like this tugs at my heart. I lightly pat her shoulder.
"…" Mira looks at me. Her eyes briefly soften, "thanks Viv." For a moment I stare at her, looking deeply in her eyes. Even off duty she still wears her black camo uniform, and her arm band and bandana with the distinct blue cross of a medic. Her hands shake as she looks at the prick of blood on her finger. A moment of silence passes, then she clasps her hands together in her lap.
With a puff, I stand up, "Of course. You learned from the best, so I'm sure you know how well Dr. Earning works."
"Yeah," Mira says, giving a weak wave as I walk away. She gives a fake smile, "bye-bye." I feel bad for her, she's not too different from myself. I run my hands along the hallway walls and gather dust at my fingertips. When I look back at Mira, she's staring at the ground, having set the stuffy to the chair I was sitting in. My ears turn back. Her bright orange eyes look so dull.
The steady beep of the monitor fills the dim room. That light beep. Beep. Beep. It's dizzying: the way it spirals around my head, through my ears, down into my heart. And the cold, still air feels sticky against my fur. I pull up a chair to my mother's hospital bed, and it loudly scrapes across the dusty tile floor. I wish that it was loud enough to wake her.
Every time I visit her, a weight drops in my stomach. It's so easy to get caught up in my duties and forge a little steel box around my heart. But I still visit her weekly, never fully letting that box enclose me. I feel my eyes get hot as they begin to water. Mother's face still looks so young, despite her greying fur. Her steady, slow breathing contrasts my labored breath. As I reach down to caress her face, I feel my throat swell.
"Mom…" my voice trembles. She looks so serene, her face looks so satisfied. It takes me all my strength to hold back the urge of shaking her.
"Oh, my Vivie." Mother's gentle voice calms me as she pets me head. Her eyes glisten with sorrow as much as hope. I hug her tightly, tears streaming down my face. "It's okay. It'll be alright."
I look up at her and whimper, "really?"
She chuckles, and gives a warm smile. Mother pulls me into her embrace. My fur settles, and my heart slows. "Of course, darling."
That's not what I wanted to hear you say. Back then, it did comfort me in the moment. But that's not what I needed to hear. I needed to hear you say "you don't have to be like your father." I needed you to tell me that "it's okay to be afraid."
But you never did.
I wrap my arms around mother to hug her, even if she cannot reciprocate. I wish to cry, but can't. "I need you, mom."
My voice comes out as nothing more than a feeble whisper, "now more than ever."
"Please."
"Please wake up."
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I can remember the day that my father died. They called him a war hero. I disagree. He left his family behind. That is not what a hero does.
Despite the warnings of Dr. Earning, I rush out of our base. I know that my father is returning today, and I want to meet him out at the barrier. My fur prickles with excitement as I get my boots on and stomp out into the dust. I squint my eyes as the dust rages in a harsh storm. In the distance the storm watchers buffet in the wind, like kites that blend into the skyline. In the distance I spot silhouettes. I wave.
"Dad!" I call out, yelling pointlessly through the howling wind. The mission he was on was a particularly long one. Three days out in the open dunes. Dr. Earning rushes after me, and covers me eyes. She grabs me tightly as I tried to squirm out of her grip. "What are you doing?" I wail, flailing my arms and legs, "let go!"
Dr. Earning's voice is somber, "hush, child." She pulls me back inside the base, my feet dragging across the ground, dust getting into my boots. "Just this once, trust me."
"No! I want to see dad!" I cry out, eyes still covered by Dr. Earning. I try to pry off her hands to no avail, her grip is too strong.
"I know you do." Dr. Earning sighs. "I know…"
My memory after that is fuzzy. I don't like to remember then. My whole body aches with pain every time I think about it. That I never got to see Father's corpse. The way I cried for the first time in years. Those dark thoughts that haunted me since I was so young festering ever more as I saw Mother's bloodied and unconscious body. The yelling and panic even though the disaster had already been radioed in. The somber silence of a collective held breath. The funeral.
Sometimes it feels like I live my life in past tense.
Despite my father training me since I was young and all my formal training up until my graduation, nothing ever really prepared for my first mission. I was trained how to use a gun, how to clear rooms, how to use a knife, and how to kill someone quicker than they could kill me. But nothing could prepare me for how it feels to slit someone's throat and watch them struggle for breath as their lungs fill with blood. That feeling makes me cringe so viscerally that I nearly pull out my fur and rip off my skin. It feels pathetic.
So pathetic that I can hear my father's voice, "Vivianne, you must be ready to kill. Every other faction is an enemy, and anyone you give mercy to will get revenge." I heave for air as I remember his stern tone. "The only thing that matters is that your allies live to see another day. Even if that means killing one, five, ten, or hundreds of enemies." His sick philosophy is practical, sure. But certainly not ethical. "These enemies are not people. They don't deserve sympathy. If they are willing to kill us, then they deserve death themselves."
A week after us newbies got recruited, we had our first mission. A joint mission between three of our faction's raid squads.
Everyone shuffles into the briefing room, squeezing past one another through the narrow doorway. The air is filled with a stifling musky scent. We sit down in rows based off of seniority, so I squeeze in between two other newbies. A medic with her tail curled around her that looks like she was about to vomit from fear and a soldier that I could sense bloodlust from. "Are you okay?" I lean over and whisper to the medic.
She jumps, tail puffing up, "uh, n- no? Yes? I think so?" Her eyes dart around as she shrivels up in her seat.
"Well, I hope you figure things out." I say, trying to respond with something, even though without having any idea how. "I'm Vivianne, nice to meet you." I offer my hand out.
She weakly grabs it. I can feel how much she's shaking. "Yea- yeah. I'm Mira." I try to give a smile, and it seems to help.
A hush falls over the room as the commander walks to the front. He was a good friend of my father, and the commander's stern voice reminds me of him. "You're probably wondering why we're having a joint raid mission." A few seniors nod while us newbies look at each other confused.
"Yesterday, a scout squad came back from the Mentis faction base. Our suspicions have been confirmed, they are arming up." It felt like the walls of the room were closing in. Squeezing me and the rest of us tighter and tighter. "Mentis is stockpiling weapons and training recruits. If our intel is right, they're running low on depleted cores. They are getting desperate."
A senior from my squad, Arthur, chuckles without even looking up and mutters under his breath, "serves them right."
Another senior lightly punches Arthur and smiles, "hell yeah it does!" The senior's light demeanor fill the room with movement, momentarily making everything seem just a bit brighter.
"Mentis is planning to raid nearby factions. Us included."
I feel arms wrap around mine. Startled, I look over and it's Mira. I can feel my expression soften as I look at her. Her ears flattened all the way back, her eyes watering. She squeezes my arm tightly, and leans on me. I can't help but smile. Even though we're the same age, she feels like the little sister I never got to have. I pet her hair. She whimpers quietly, "I'm- I'm sorry."
To my right, the other newbie looks furious. I see his lips curl and his eyebrows furrow. He's aggressively tapping his feet and lashing his tail.
The commander continues, "the mission you all are tasked with is to destroy the Mentis faction's supply of weaponry."
The newbie smiles widely, and mutters "that's exactly what I wanted to hear!" His fur prickles up and he shuffles in his seat, leaning back.
"A map that was created by the scout squad will be given out to each raid squad leader along with the full briefing document. You are scheduled to leave by 2230. Perform your best. Don't die without honor. You are dismissed."
Those last words stuck with me, the commander said it just like my father.
The briefing room explodes with chatter. Mira looks at me before gently letting go of my arm. "Thank you," she whispers, barely loud enough to hear amidst the talking. Filing out of the room, the bloodthirsty newbie shoves his way out, while Mira walks behind me. Before we part ways to our own squads, Mira gently says "bye-bye," with a weak wave.
"Bye Mira," I say, trying my best to smile despite my anxiety making it difficult to even breathe, "see you soon." Mira nods and slowly turns away, looking at the ground. I hurry to my squad leader, and he looks disapprovingly at me.
I can just hear my father say through my squad leader's mouth "friends are for the weak. Live for your allies, but never attach yourself to them." But that isn't what my squad leader said. And I refuse to listen to my father this time.
Rather, my squad leader says, "Quickly Vivianne. There's no time to lose." As I walk up to him and the rest of my squad, he smiles. "You know, you're doing pretty good for a newbie."
Arthur laughs, "Yeah for real! I knew your dad trained you, but I didn't expect you to be that good, y'know?" He pats me on the back aggressively, and my tail sticks up as I flinch.
"Hey!" I smile, and I punch Arthur back.
"Oh you've really done it this time Viv!"
Our squad leader steps in, "enough you two. Y'all can mess around after this mission is over."
That mission ended with twelve casualties.
The sound of my squad leader screaming turning into gurgling as he got shot in the neck.
Arthur was one of them.
Mira was plastered in Arthur's blood as she desperately tried to bandage the wound on his leg.
Only three of us survived.
The newbies' bloodthirsty laugh mixed with his tears streaming down his face rung as loudly as his gunshots as he murdered the enemies.
Just us three newbies.
"Mira! Get a grip!" I yell at her, tugging at her uniform, dragging her across the floor.
We were completely ambushed.
Our seniors protected us selflessly. They died. Their corpse never returned. We weren't strong enough to carry them all.
Running through the dunes of dust was like nothing else. My muscles burned. That feeling like you were gonna be shot in your back as you run. My lungs burned, and I urged to look back. But you couldn't afford to turn around. You had to run. Nothing else mattered.
I look at my hands. Are they covered with my own blood? My allies? My enemies? I can't even tell anymore. But there's blood there plastered all across my fur. It's still sticky. The weight of it drags me down, deeper and deeper into my chair.
"-nne."
I feel so far away. Just when I felt like I was finally starting to understand this world. That understand was stripped away. Did my allies die with honor? Or did they die in vain? Why did they protect us rather than themselves?
"Vivianne!" The commander slams his hands on his desk. I numbly return to my senses.
"What?" I mumble, my mind still flooded with memories.
"You are assigned to be the leader of a new squad."
I jump up from my chair, knocking it over.
I stood there, watching everyone die.
I took a life.
Five.
Maybe ten.
Yet only two of my allies survived.
I'm not ready for this.
I can't do it.
But I can't say that.
The commander observes me quietly.
I look at him silently as I stand.
I close my eyes and take a breath.
When I open my eyes I don't say anything for a moment.
My heart burns.
"Yes sir."