Pink Petals
©
2012
by
mica
d'orléans
This is the completed story...
Those beautiful pink pedals shaped like angel wings that suddenly appeared like a cloud in the clear blue sky descended upon our world like pellets from hell. It was a few centuries back when they first appeared, when most were fooled by their soft velvety look, that those who witnessed or survived the touch of their razor sharp edges joined forces to develop a new material called diafer, the remarkably versatile magic fiber that when woven into fabric, or blended with glass or metal, could remain as strong as diamond. It became mankind’s only protection against this Pink Pedal Rain.
Though it is known that within every fiber in every cell of every organism there lay dormant an innate instinct to survive, in man’s evolution, this desire to protect the environment that sustains their existence has turned into a more selfish goal, which, if kept unchecked, can lead to their unfortunate demise. Since a large number of earth’s population was poor, this protective gear that should have been found in every household had fallen into the greedy hands of Nexus, who freely distributed it amongst its high-ranking officials, then brazenly turned diafer into a bargaining chip with other nations, and into the most coveted commodity found in today’s World Market, that only the rich could afford.
This and other injustices clouding the government is why many outside of the Union believed the rumors spreading around the old town of Milot, that the sudden appearance of this peculiar rain which falls once every few generations was yet another Nexus-tailored-weapon created to stifle the current uprisings, for, as history had shown, the fall of these pedals coincided with major disturbances that threatened their dominion.
So, when seventeen-year-old Nico Dauphin Ista tilted back his head to peek at the rarely seen sun as its rays beamed down upon his pale sun-deprived skin, with his silver white hair flying wild with the breeze, he immediately pulled back his head into the van while screaming out “Dodge grids up!” from the top of his lungs. And the first pedal nicked their diamond shields, and neighboring grids unfurled to protect the chosen ones, as those lucky enough to walk the streets with protective gears were spared, as the many other not so lucky ones were reduced to nothingness, to a sea of crimson red...
All seven friends, Nico and Tanjoh and Lucy and Suli and Pete and Rimla and Xiaxia, who grew up under the shelter of wealth and privilege, for the first time experienced guilt as they silently took in the carnage taking place before their eyes.
After a few drawn-out seconds it was all over.
Dumbfounded, sitting still inside Rimla’s diafer-safe van, their anger quietly simmered. And with an unspoken vow that marked the birth of a new resistance named “7” - the group that might finally break down this wall of disparity created by Nexus and its five century rule.
This and other injustices clouding the government is why many outside of the Union believed the rumors spreading around the old town of Milot, that the sudden appearance of this peculiar rain which falls once every few generations was yet another Nexus-tailored-weapon created to stifle the current uprisings, for, as history had shown, the fall of these pedals coincided with major disturbances that threatened their dominion.
So, when seventeen-year-old Nico Dauphin Ista tilted back his head to peek at the rarely seen sun as its rays beamed down upon his pale sun-deprived skin, with his silver white hair flying wild with the breeze, he immediately pulled back his head into the van while screaming out “Dodge grids up!” from the top of his lungs. And the first pedal nicked their diamond shields, and neighboring grids unfurled to protect the chosen ones, as those lucky enough to walk the streets with protective gears were spared, as the many other not so lucky ones were reduced to nothingness, to a sea of crimson red...
All seven friends, Nico and Tanjoh and Lucy and Suli and Pete and Rimla and Xiaxia, who grew up under the shelter of wealth and privilege, for the first time experienced guilt as they silently took in the carnage taking place before their eyes.
After a few drawn-out seconds it was all over.
Dumbfounded, sitting still inside Rimla’s diafer-safe van, their anger quietly simmered. And with an unspoken vow that marked the birth of a new resistance named “7” - the group that might finally break down this wall of disparity created by Nexus and its five century rule.
