Sincerely, Mother

Dear Kiera,

I remember when you were little, when you had so many dreams. You would run around as if you could somehow get enough momentum to launch yourself into space. Your dreams became so singular as you grew, turning from many into one. All you wanted was an adventure, and the only adventure that could quench your thirst was the idea of traveling the stars. I realize now that that dream could have never come true. Your craving will remain unsatisfied.

I know this isn’t the life you wanted, this path was never even an option until now. I pray that you will still find your adventure. Maybe this crumbling society will create that journey for you. Perhaps somewhere in the rubble you’ll find what you’ve been looking for. I hope you do. It will be different. It will be dangerous. It will be hard.

I’ve protected you your whole life from all the evil things in the world. It frightens me that I won’t be able to do that anymore. You will have to live through the collapse and everything that follows without me. You will have to face this viperous world on your own. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t brought you into this world when I knew it was doomed for destruction, but I don’t regret having you. You made this wicked world better by your mere existence.

But there is something I need you to promise me. You may not ever understand my request, but I need you to put my mind at ease. Don’t try to be the savior, the hero, of the rubble. It isn’t worth it.

There isn’t a way of saving this world, not because it's not possible, but because there aren’t enough people who want to. A revolution, of society and mindset, takes more than one person. This lump of rock floating in space doesn’t deserve someone like you.

Find people. Make friends. Start your own little world, one that you can control. Form a community that feels like family, filled with people that make life worth living. Be satisfied with what you can have.

All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, maybe I've ruined your chance at that.

Sincerely,

Mother

I crumbled the perforated yellowish paper in my hand, glaring at it like a curse. I’d read it over and over as if somehow each new read would magically provide an answer. At the beginning I thought maybe she had coded in some hidden message, or written in between the lines with invisible ink, but there was nothing. Reading it became a habit.

I hovered the letter over the fire, its flames lapping against the edges, slowly setting them alight. The paper slowly darkened as it curled in on itself.

My mother was gone, leaving a legacy I didn’t want. I released the sheet as the flames consumed it, sending a crackle of sparks flying as it touched the firewood.

I turned away, grabbed my backpack, and slung it over my shoulder. I grabbed the heart shaped locket that hung from one of the zippers and ripped it off, tossing it into the fire, as a figure stepped out of the shadows of an abandoned vine covered skyscraper. He held a rifle pointed towards my chest.

“You’re coming with me, Kiera Zidek, daughter of the world destroyer.” He growled from behind the bandana around his mouth, the fabric ruffling slightly from his breath. Others followed him and stepped into the light of the fire. I sighed, slowly raising my hands into the air. Here we go again.