Memory

“Breath in…”

Dimitrius inhaled the clean air of his home. He grumbled under his breath. “Now breath out.” His mother said.

Dimitrius hated this process. Anytime he got angry or upset with himself, he was forced to do this. He sighed heavily. “Now count to 5.” She said. “1….2….3….4....5.” he groaned.

“Do you have that out of your system?”

“Yes.” He mumbled. Then he trudged back towards his device and adjusted the wing. Then the Flashback ended.

“1….2….3….4….5.” he repeated.

Dimitrius trudged through the trash and junk in the dark junkyard. He hadn’t slept in two days and was hungry and tired. He felt the sharp pain of the tainted air hit his back, and his stomach roared, begging for the sweet satisfaction of food. He moaned as he clung to the locket, given to him by his mother. He sometimes wondered why he even carried the heavy piece of junk strung around his neck. He only kept it because of how serious his mother was about it. She had begged him to hold it on him and to keep it safe all his life, and he promised he would. He missed his mother terribly, the sweet, warm smile on her face, the loving look she gave him when he failed, and the strict and powerful appearance she had when he disobeyed. She had passed away about a year ago, and Dimitrius’ life plunged into darkness and pain. A single tear fell down his red, cold cheek, like a lifeless bird falling from the sky.

All he wore was black trousers, a white, soot-stained button-up shirt, and a brown, striped vest with a rather large rip in the shoulder. His arm was plated in scraps of silver, copper, and bronze he found in the junkyard, to protect him from The Cursed. He could hear their faint cries down below the clouds. It was beyond dangerous down there. Sometimes when the scrappers went out on their runs, they wouldn’t return. Everyone blamed the beasts. The world below was a bad place, filled with nightmares, disease, darkness and decrepit old buildings from the past. Sometimes, if you looked closely, you could see one sticking out on the horizon. There was a deadly gas below; one that was used in the past wars when there were many humans and supplies was low. Now, whatever people were left lived on the mountain peaks and plateaus above the clouds. The air up there was still polluted and brown, but at least it was breathable.

Dimitrius climbed out of the junkyard, and walked home through the narrow streets. Steam bellowed out of the homes and factories that surrounded him. He walked toward an alley, lit by the neon lights of shop signs and the soft glow of lanterns. Even though it was a dark night, people were still out and about, buying supplies, haggling prices, gambling in small groups with hushed voices. There was a clamoring all around him as Dimitrius pushed through the crowd of people. He escaped them by turning into another alley, this one dark and dirty with trash piled high around him.

The smell was awful but he had gotten used to it. When his mother had died he was pushed out of his home and onto the streets. Suddenly, an airship roared over-head as it came to dock. Dimitrius looked up at the intimidatingly loud black ship. He tripped over a pole that had been tossed down into the trash. The locket flew off his neck and into the rubbish as he tripped. He got up, stumbling as he stood up. He then began digging through the scraps to find his possession. “Mantarisma.’ he mumbled, still digging. He then looked down to see the shining peice of bronze sticking out from amongst a pile of week old slop. He picked it up, and wiped it off carefully and began walking again towards a small shed, made of scraps of metal and wood.

He walked in and set down the satchel he carried. He plopped down on the small stained cot and groaned. His stomach was screaming now. He reached into a small box and pulled an old, stale piece of bread he stole from one of the stalls the previous day. He took a couple large bites and dropped it back into the old, crummy box. He thought about his mom one more time and then fell asleep, forgetting the painful memory. ..

.....

A bright, yellowish-white light filled the shed through the cracks of the wood. “Uugh.” Dimitrius moaned and climbed of his cot.

He stood up and reached into the small box that lay next to his bed. He pulled out the piece of bread, took a couple small nibbles, and dropped it back into the box. He put back on the once heart-shaped locket, picked up his satchel and hung it over his shoulders, and tightened a brown cloak around his neck as he exited the shack.

The alleyway was now empty except for a few vendors selling fruits and other plant-based food. He walked through the alley and stopped at one of the vendors. He examined the assortment of fruits before being interrupted by a man saying, “ You got any money for that, rat? “ Dimitrius turned to see a rather large man, with a plump, red face and beady eyes.

Dimitrius spoke. ”N-no sir.”

“Then scram!” The fat man yelled.

Dimitrius temper rose. He remembered what his mother said and breathed in, and then out. He then turned to leave, and stealthily stole a mango from under his cloak. He walked away and waited for the fat man to scream at him, but luckily he hadn’t noticed and Dimitrius was off. After turning the corner, he pulled out a small, gleaming dagger from his satchel. He sliced into the mango and pulled off a large, juicy portion of it. He felt guilty in stealing the yellow fruit and knew that his mother would be disappointed in him, but he had no money and needed to survive. He reached for the locket and pulled it up to his forehead. The thought of his mother made him so upset but he couldn’t forget, it was like it had been tattooed into his brain.

Suddenly, a feeling came over him, like he was being watched. He turned to see no one there, just the dirty ally. He kept walking and went back to his fruit. The feeling grew so one for time he turned. This time, he noticed a barrel of trash fall over from behind a corner. Dimitrius began to worry. “Hello? Is anyone there?” he called into the ally, an echo ringing around.

He began to move quicker now, starting into a slow jog. A tapping sound came from one of the over-head roofs. He looked up to see a slender person, covered entirely in black clothing running after him. His eyes dilated. “Oh crap.” He uttered.

He was sprinting now, trying to escape the cloaked person. The assailant threw a small ball at his feet, and it burst into gas. He stumbled but kept running, coughing heavily. Now the cloaked person was behind him. They seemed to be catching up, so he ran faster. Finally the figure lunged for him, tackling him forcefully. Dimitrius punched at the attacker, and fought, but was quickly pinned. The attacker wiped his bloody lip and reached down and grabbed the locket, ripping it off Dimitrius’s chest. But just before the attacker got up, Dimitrius shot his arm as hard as possible into the attacker’s chest. A loud “OOF.” Came from the cloaked person as they where pushed off of him.

Dimitrius, unaware that the necklace had been stolen, recovered himself, checked his satchel, and fled from the attacker. The cloaked person stood up, still dizzy and looked down into their fist. There it was, the damaged locket in their hand. They chuckled and ran off.

Dimitrius ran hard, sliding in wet puddles, nearly falling more than once as he tried to escape the attacker. He turned the corner into his own familiar alley. Breathing hard, he came to a stop. He recovered himself, and began to search for the familiar shed that he inhabited.

Suddenly, thunder roared overhead. Great. He thought. Just what I needed. Now the rain was coming down, starting from a gentle drizzle to a heavy shower. Dimitrius ran into his shed, now soaked and still covered in blood. He untied the brown cloth from around his neck and set down his satchel. He reached up for his locket, unaware that it had been stolen. When he found that the heart-shaped locket was no longer draped around his neck, a feeling of panic came over him.

He scrambled around trying to find the small pendant in the rubbish outside and on his own body, but it was not there. Then it hit him. Wait, why should I care about some stupid piece of metal? It was heavy anyways. Although realizing this, there was still a part of him that wanted it back. “Mother had trusted me with it, I should’ve kept it safe.” He said to himself.

“But what do I care, its not like it meant anything.” He thought hard.

Retrieve or leave? It is the last thing I have of my mother. The thought of her troubled him horribly. “I’m going to get it back.” He finally decided. He put back on the satchel, gathered supplies and food, and reattached the cloak to his neck. He stepped out of the shed, rain pouring down on him, and was off on his Journey.