LMV VI: The Colour of Dandelions - Chapter 1.1

Once he had a name, he no longer remembers what it is. Only that he had one. A collection of letters and words that meant something, him.

Right.

Once, he had friends, and a family. Somewhere, sometime. Both of those points seem far away now, another reality in the distant past no longer connected to him. Those memories slowly fade, like a tea set out to cool in the night breeze. Its warmth seeping slowly into the night, as if it was never there in the first place.

Right again, left, then through the alleyway

Once he had a name but a name is only a name when it is used by others. Right now, he laughs quietly to himself as he transverses the narrow alleyways of Koowlin city. There’s no need for a name.

Down the flight of stairs, turn right again.

There’s no one around him to use it.

Avoid the dripping water from above here, left turn till the end of the alleyway,

Once he had a name and he’s thankful that he at least knows he has a name. Not like the wu-ming. Although…he’s well on his way to becoming one at this rate.

Squeeze through the walls here, check left and right for officials.

He shook his head lightly, hoping the physical motion of the body would clear the metaphorical fog in his head. This was why he disliked doing jobs at night, even with the cacophony of the city’s noise his mind would wander about the past. This was not something he wanted to indulge in, Si always told him the past was more of a burden than a gift.

Down another flight of stairs, left turn.

He wouldn’t know anyways, knowing you had a past once and actually remembering it was two very different things.

Wait for 5 minutes.

Ugh, he was doing it again, slipping back into his flow of needless wandering. Somewhere far off, three loud gongs rang clear into the night. The sound of brass against brass.

The night was halfway through, another late night again.

4.5 minutes.

In another four minutes, he would have to sneak past the checkpoint to get back into Si’s residential block. He’s done this many times now, but still he’s nervous. He unzips his pants pocket and reaches inside, his fingers sieving through the knick knacks he accumulates in search for a small metallic button.

Ah, bingo. He pulls it out and encloses his fist around it tightly. Without this,he had no home.

His heartbeat picks up, fluttering like a trapped butterfly inside a jar. They don’t exist here, not in Koowlin city. But he saw it in the books in Si’s room, and he remembers faintly once he was in the places in those books. They were nothing like the sprawling concrete metropolis this city was.

Those places had lush green fields as far as the eye could see, the horizon on display and tall swaying trees dotted the landscape instead of miles and miles of metal, concrete and neon lights.

3 minutes to go.

They were old books, and Si didn’t like him rifling through her stuff, and there was no chance of him asking her what or where those places were. She didn’t like talking about the past, and he surmised, those places might have been part of it.

It was a quiet night at the checkpoint, he could hear their footsteps shuffling against the ground and the low thrum of sensors warning off potential intruders. Usually, the guards would be talking about anything and everything. He liked listening to them talk, he has always liked stories but they were luxury to him.

Yet there was little conversation tonight, he wonders if it’s because they’re tired. Or maybe, it’s a pair of new guards that have just been put on patrol duty and they have not yet found something to talk about.

He wonders what it’s like to live the life of a guard, with such affirmed purpose and identity. To have their own place in this world, to exist so rightfully.

Of course, none of this is of his concern, he just wants to distract himself from his own thoughts.

2 minutes.

He thinks about whether Si will be awake when he returns tonight, he hopes not. He knows he shouldn’t but he wants to log onto Tɛrə. Si doesn’t like him doing it, and she’s right it is bad for him.

But sometimes he just wants to forget about this life, reimagine himself into another reality. Another him. He’s not the only one doing it either, most people here are. But that majority probably wasn’t on the road to becoming a wu-ming.

1 minute. Beep.

Someone’s coming through, unusual this late at night. Fuck. He’ll have to time his steps to the conversation otherwise they’ll likely detect him.

“State your name and scan your badge.”

Two shuffles to the right edge of the wall.

“Jacques. Svenski.”

Another two.

“Please wait for identification.”

Another beep. “You may pass, cause no trouble.”

He slinks around the corner onto the other wall, pressing himself against the graffiti covered concrete. Crouching, staying in the shadows. Praying he is not seen.

He hears footsteps, then it fades.

He exhales silently, calming his heartbeat.

30 seconds.

He’ll have to make a move soon. Otherwise he would not return home until morning, and then it would become an even more difficult journey.

15 seconds.

He shuffles back onto the wall he was on previously, peeking around the corner cautiously. The guards will switch shifts soon.

10

He stays low, crawling on his hands and knees to the adjacent wall.

9

More footsteps, the other pair of guards are here.

8

He crawls closer, mindful to stay where the shadows are. He could now see the neon red lights of the humming sensors. They really don’t get any less terrifying no matter how many times you get close to him.

7

They’re inside the booth.

6

NOW! He releases his fist, with a practised throw that came not from technique but muscle memory from how many times he was trained to do it and has done it. He presses the metallic button once before sliding it just beneath the sensors. Not over, not under. Just right.

5

The sensors continue to hum the lights still red, visibly nothing has changed. It is faith that carries him through here. Faith that the button handed to him works, faith it will work this time as it has in the past.

Faith. He mutters to himself.

4

He makes it through the sensors, unharmed.

3

On the other side now, he snatches the button and encloses it in his right hand once more. The concrete makes a light scuffle sound against his gloves as he closes the distance between him and the shrubs on the other side.

2

The handover of shifts is almost complete.

1

He expertly moves a part of the foliage, revealing a cut hole in the wire fence wide enough to fit him and others like him inside.

0

Welcome to the Dandelion District. 

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AN: Thank you for reading my first entry to LMS! A small note here (inspired by Omni!). Whilst I appreciate technical reviews such as spelling, grammar and punctuation, since this is a first draft I very rarely go back and re-edit my own work. I would deeply appreciate reviews that focus on the characters, the believability of the world, flow of story and so on. 

Thank you again!