This is something I was planning on entering into the flash fiction contest, but I didn't get it done it time. Oh well, always next time. But I thought that I might as well post it to see what people think. Now, without further explanation... [font="'times new roman';"]Broken Mask, Broken Mind[/font]
Sand... for kios and kios... just sand
Bright sunlight streams down on the Mata-Nui forsaken desert causing the sand to reply back with its own harsh light as if the sun and desert were in a continual struggle for who could shine brightest. In the middle of the bright desert, the only discernible figure was that of a Fe-Matoran. His armor shined nearly as bright as the desert itself in the harsh light of the sun, and his footprints in the sand went on for kios until they were no longer visible. He trudged on in the sand, ebbing his way forward slowly. "So tired," he mumbled to himself, "So.. so tired." How long had he been walking? It felt like forever. All he could remember was walking in this harsh, burning desert. Images swirled in his mind, images of what could be his past, but when he reached out to them, the effort just made him more tired. "So tired... must rest," he mumbled again, but his feet kept moving. Maybe this was all he had done. Maybe he had been made to wonder this desert forever, and even if he tried to stop, his feet would just keep moving. Finally he got his feet to slow enough to nearly stop. No! No, you cant give up! Keep fighting! A voice somewhere in the back of his head. How long had that been there? He thought he had heard it there before. Maybe it had been there for a while, urging him on, and he tuned it out. But it didnt much matter anymore. He was tired, and he wanted to rest. No! You have to keep pushing! Remember! Try to Remember! The Matoran was tired, but he obliged. He pushed against the boundaries around what was left of his mind. He reached out and clutched one of the images in his mind. The effort burned like fire, but he pushed anyways. He saw a village, crumbling, corrupted. Tall, hunched creatures with spines protruding from their deformed backs attacked. Each one was a different color and carrying a staff. Matoran ran screaming and tried to protect themselves. The strange intruders knocked them down one by one. Remembering hurt. The stress burned in his mind. Tiredness washed over him like a flood, drawing into a deep state of listlessness, but he had to keep trying. He had to push against it. He had to remember. He summoned what little strength remained of him to remember. The images were fuzzier this time. He was running towards a smaller figure... a Tur... Tur-something The strain pushing against his mind was enormous. Some part of him told him that he wouldnt last much longer, and that he needed to retain his strength for for something. That didnt matter though. He wanted to remember more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. He was running towards the figure... a flash of brown appeared before him... a bright flash and strong force... he was on his back in the sand, staring upwards... His face burned... He felt weak... an absence... He reached for his face... His mask had been shattered. The Matoran reached for his face. His mask was gone just as in his memory. But there was something more. One vital peace of information he was missing. What was he doing here? He delved once more into his memory. The pain was unbearable. He sat up... Village was... broken... He had to find... had to find... find His vision began to fade. His mind was blurred. That last word though. He needed to know it. What did he have to find? He pushed through the pain, through the unimaginable pain. "Help," He muttered. "Help." He felt his legs give out and a soft impact against the sand, dulled by his senselessness. He made one final move against his weariness and the burning in his skull just to move his head upwards. With all his might he mustered one final cry. "Help!"
Edited by Lapaka, Jan 24 2013 - 07:42 PM.