《Lily of the Apocalypse; One Room Stories》
Chreta Hotel Room 112
Your petals open to reveal a familiar room. A small, simple hotel room, with a nice bed, two sets of drawers, dirty red carpet, an unpowered fridge, and two closed doors. There are no windows, nor large holes in the walls. Even the odd painting in every hotel room hangs unperturbed.
Yet you smell something odd. Blood. The bathroom door clicks, then opens. A young girl, about your daughter''s age, walks out into view. Her hands and knees are covered in blood, much to her annoyance. She walks over to one of the drawers, the one next to the fridge, and takes out a screwdriver. She gives a dissatisfied sigh, returning to the bathroom and closing the door.
You blink. Time passes. There''s no more running water. Now you can hear the ticking of a clock right below you, though you can''t read it. Unlucky.
The other door opens, that same girl walking in with a forced smile. You can just barely see a larger figure walk away behind her, before she closes the door, her smile falling. Going over to the drawer by the bed, she opens it and takes out a book. Jumping into bed, she opens and begins reading. The cover has some kind of mushroom on it, and you can''t read the title.
After a few moments, she puts down the book and looks directly at you. Her face is a mix of surprise and glee, as she gets up and walks towards you. She holds up the book''s cover, ''Identifying Fungi 2nd Edition''. A useful book, if a little outdated. Not that there are any recent publications.
Putting down the book, she fiddles around below you. She manages to pry the clock off the wall and brings it over to the desk opposite you. Now you know the time; 6:17. Analog, which is a bit annoying, but it''s better than before.
She gives you a thumbs up, before picking up the book and returning to the bed to read. She was smiling.
You blink. It''s now 4:43. The girl is sitting on the bed, eating a bowl of burnt meat and scraps of old lettuce. An unappetizing meal, but with how vigorously she''s eating, it''s clear she was starving before.
Finishing most of the meal, she carries a small sliver of meat to the fridge. A putrid, sulfuric smell burns you as she quickly tosses the meat in and closes the door. The girl covers her mouth and lets out a small cough, trying to suppress as much sound as possible.
She sits still. 5 seconds. 10 seconds. 20 seconds. 1 minute. Only after 2 minutes of silence does she move.
Carefully walking over to the painting, she removes it from the wall. It reveals a small alcove, where some thread and a lighter is hidden. She turns to look at you, and gives a nod. Taking out the lighter and thread, she goes over to the drawer by the bed.
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First she takes out the book. Then a plank of wood. Then a large knife. A small blue backpack. A water bottle. A first aid kit. And finally, a glowing gem. Packing everything into the backpack, she puts it back into the drawer.
The girl hesitates, before shaking her head. Taking the gem back out, she instead puts it into the alcove. She returns the painting to its original position, stuffs the bag into the drawer, and stares at you for a few moments. She gives a soft smile, eyes full of determination, before going to bed.
You blink. It''s 6:51. The putrid smell of sulfur burns you. The fridge has been moved from it''s original position to next to the bed. A thread hangs from the door, leading across the carpet, to the bathroom. There is soft coughing. Then the thread begins to burn.
You begin hearing heavy footsteps in the hallway. A grumble, before a very deep voice calls out, "Oi, shut your coughing! Some of us are trying to sleep!"
The girl doesn''t respond. The thread continues to burn.
"Hello? When I say something, I expect a response."
Still nothing. The thread burns resolutely.
"Dammit, you bitch! Don''t make me come in there!" Something hits the door. Some sort of dust falls from the ceiling. A hand reaches out of the bathroom, jamming a broom into the door.
The thread is almost at the fridge. The carpet begins popping blue flames.
A loud crunch comes from the door as you see what appears to be an axe buried next to the door handle. A hand reaches through the hole and fumbles around, looking for the handle. It turns it, but the door doesn''t open, the broom doing it''s job. A series of curses and other footsteps fill the hallway.
The thread reaches the fridge. A blue explosion blasts the wall, revealing the world outside. A dead city, the pale sun rising, and a winged monstrosity in the distance.
The girl jumps out of the bathroom and runs to the hole, jumping through with no hesitation. She gives you one last smile, before running away. You watch as she hops a chain fence and into the streets, turns left, and runs out of view.
The door breaks down, as several armed men run into the room. They start shouting in an unfamiliar language, pointing at the hole in the wall. Some run into the hallway, others look around the room, while one stays at the hole in the wall. A bad decision.
From outside, a vythan slams through the hole. A bat-like beast tears through limbs and armor of the man it landed on. As the flower petals begin to close, you take one final look at the other men, fear filled eyes devoid of hope.
You return to the ruined hotel room. Vines now hang over the hole in the wall, as some rotten blue mold invades the carpet. The bed is shredded, but still usable for anyone dumb enough to ignore the hole. The drawers are drawn open, something searching through it. And the painting remains, bloodied but still hanging. You remove it, revealing a small alcove with a small glowing gem, the size of a fingernail.
A mana gem, slightly decayed due to time, but still intact. You put it away, giving a silent thanks to the girl. Maybe you silently hope this isn''t the last you see of them. But time isn''t kind, and the sun will set soon. You go to the hole, brush away the vines, and look at the moon rising above the empty city.
Seribon High School Room 1308
Your petals open to reveal a familiar room. An empty classroom, disassembled desks scattered to the sides, random posters of books you don''t recognize, a bookshelf full of rotted books, a single door, and a desk with various tools. The too small and too high windows are shattered, barely covered by torn cardboard. The sun bleached carpet is mostly clean, except that one odd stain everyone avoids.
You hear the faint rustle of keys, followed by a click. The door is slowly pushed open, getting stuck on a random nail in the carpet. In the doorway, you see two teenage boys with wide, enthusiastic smiles. One of them holds a radio wrapped in tape, while the other wears some sort of eyepatch.
"I can''t believe they gave us an entire classroom! We should''ve sold that generator years ago! Would''ve saved us so much trouble."
"Stop acting like we could''ve known to do that. This shelter didn''t even exist last year. And there''s no beds in here!"
Walking in, you get a better look at the two. The one with an eyepatch walks with a limp and has a few fresh scars along his arms. The other carries a backpack, though it sways as if empty, and his left hand is covered in bandages.
"Yo, there''s a desk!"
"No shit, now where and how will we be sleeping?"
"Just sleep on the carpet. It''s not like the other rooms had beds."
You blink. Time passes. Unfortunately, the only clock in the room has long since run out of battery, stuck at 11:14. Unlucky.
The room is empty and dark, as you can barely see the night sky through the windows. One of the boys is lying on the carpet, snoring. The other appears to be fumbling around with some sort of knife. You''re unable to tell what exactly they''re doing with the knife, but there is a faint smell of blood that wasn''t there earlier.
Eventually, the boy lets out a pained sigh, before placing the knife onto the desk and taking out dirty bandages, wrapping it around his hand. He stands up and limps over to the bookshelf, picking out some of the more rotten books, and opens the door. He leaves, careful not to let the door close all the way behind him.
A few minutes pass. Eventually, the boy returns with no books. He lies down onto the carpet.
You blink. It''s day now. No one is in the room. Instead, you hear shouting outside. Not the panicked shouting of disaster or fighting, but the excited shouting of a discovery.
The insides of the room is a bit different. The disassembled desks are now sorted by material and size. On the desk, a piece of metal from the desks is partially sharpened, a file silvered by metal dust. The carpet is a lot dirtier, a bit of mud near the entrance and a new reddish stain by the desk.
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The bookshelf is now empty, all of the books replaced by a single random rusty nail. You note at the odd lack of smell, too used to the rot of old paper to have noticed before. The periodic wind through the windows brings in a flowery smell though.
You stop hearing the shouting.
You blink. It''s night again. You see only one person sitting in the room, one of the boys based on their height. There''s an odd smell of wet fur. A pair of bloody tweezers sit on the ground next to them. Despite the darkness preventing any clear view, you can see the boy''s slitted eye.
There''s a flash of green light, and a cracking boom. Out the window, you just barely see a firework go off. Its light reveals the creature in the room.
Green leaf-like fur where skin should be, elongated digitigrade legs tangled by thick vines, branching wooden horns, flowers all over its head and one in its eye, and thin thorny arms. A cursed wolffern, though not fully transformed yet.
A second firework goes off, this one red. The carpet is stained, bloodied bandages strewn about, and a rusty nail embedded into their foot. Its eye stares at you now, a mix of fear, desperation, hunger, and hope.
And then white. But there''s no bang. And the white light doesn''t fade away. It''s a flare. You hear shouting, the panicked kind. The kind when something attacks. And a faint glow in its hand.
You blink. A brief moment where there wasn''t any hope. The sounds of fighting, of metal on metal and periodic crack of gunpowder rings outside. The door opens, a boy with an eyepatch limping in. Slamming the door shut, he knocks over the bookshelf and drags it to block the door. Then, he turns to the wolffern.
"...Hey. I know you told me I didn''t need to help anymore. I didn''t know what to say at the time."
The beast crawls, the nail leaving a trail of blood, the vines scraping away carpet.
"I don''t think it''ll work. And even if it does, what point is there?"
It reaches out an arm. There, embedded as if a sixth finger, is a mana gem.
"Everyone else will either be dead of homeless by morning. The shelter is crumbling, the monsters are lurking, and the hornets are-"
The wolffern grabs onto the boy''s shoulders, claws digging in. Ignoring it, the boy reaches down and pulls out the nail from its foot. He takes out a small pair of scissors and begins cutting the tangled vines.
"There was only ever two ways this was going to end. So, how about the one where we both live."
He reaches up and removes the eyepatch, before leaning in and hugging the wolffern. It begins to cry, as claws scrape against the boy''s back, until both are in a bloodied embrace. The boy reaches out to the mana gem, and pushes it deeply into the wolffern''s hand.
It howls in pain, as the flare goes out. In the darkness, you hear bones snapping and grass rustling. Outside, some whispered voices are heard, as the door handle is jostled. And then a bang as something hits it.
Your petals begin to close, though not for lack of hope. No, lilies of the apocalypse only bloom in human hope.
You return to the classroom. In the center lie two old corpses of wolves. A young tree blooms from their embracing corpse, as a field of flowers covers the carpet. The desks have long become integrated into shrubbery, fruits growing between the bars. The bookshelf is broken and empty, and there''s no sign of any old tools.
You crouch down to the dead boys, giving a respectful pat to their heads. Counting the rings on their skull, you estimate they died 80 years old. Digging around their legs, you find a fairly large mana gem. While the dead have no use for it, the tree is very much alive. At any rate, it will need it.
While thinking about what to do, you look out through the empty windows. A clear sky, the smell of spring, and the faint sweet taste of hope.