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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2043976-The-Silver-Bullet-Prologue
Rated: 13+ · Novella · Dark · #2043976
"Even if we must change, it will not be from inside!" - quote from a non-Nanos leader.
A steel door twice my height stood before me as I took in a deep breath.

Opening the door, I peeked inside. A small wooden table dominated the centre of the room, with two blue cushions on opposite sides of the table. The walls were milky white and clean of dust. There was a painting on the wall opposite the door. Today, the painting was made of a myriad of bright colours.

I closed the door and sat down on the nearest cushion. A shogi board laid on the table, the pieces neatly arranged. I deliberated for a moment and moved the third pawn from my left.

I took out a story book from my bag and read it as I waited.

After a few minutes, the third pawn from the right of the opposite side moved forward a step.

I smiled sneakily. She was feeling adventurous tonight. Normally she would have made a defensive opening.

I exchanged my bishop with hers and placed the captured bishop on my side of the board.

"Hey, hey, I have a present for you, Yu!" I stealthily took out the object from my pants pocket. It was a black rectangular cube, as thin as a smartphone.

Silence saturated the air. I pouted. She has not answered me in weeks.

"I spent all my time making this you know! I finally know the answer to your riddle!"

Somehow I got the feeling that the air just got heavier.

I held the object up high and squeezed the cube until it buckled and popped. There was a thin whine as the psycho-program in it activated. Thin lines of iridescent light appeared and surrounded me in a circle. The circle stood still in the air for a moment before expanding in a flash.

She appeared before me, in tattered clothes, her fingers on the silver general shogi piece. Her hands were covered in dried red liquid. Her lemon coloured sleeveless dress, looked dirty, as if she wiped the red liquid from her hands onto her dress. A familiar smell of rust filled the room. Her hazel pupils slowly dilated, her chest slowly rising as she noticed that I was looking straight at her.

Jumping backwards in fright, my heart was pumping madly against my small chest. My back leaned against the wall. Cold sweat flowed down my forehead as I realised that I was trembling.

I should have just sat on the cushion.

A few bodies were lying on the floor behind her. I stopped breathing when I realised that they were headless.

I guess that was when my brain decided to wake myself up.

From this last childhood memory of her.





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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2043976-The-Silver-Bullet-Prologue