Sister of Sasha and partial leader of the BlackSmiths, Maya was found dead in her bed this morning. (warning, this is kinda dark...) I blinked awake, stretching, waving a hand, and letting the blinding lights pierce my eyes. Sliding out of bed, I looked into the mirror, and my hair was a wreck, some leader of pirates I was. I called Maya's name, hearing the small echo of the room. No reply. I glanced at the time, early, but not too early. She should be up by now. She's probably over in her workshop, tinkering with some strange device or rifle, never stops working. I sigh. I call out to her again. No reply. I walk down the short hallway to her door, which is also the entrance to the workshop. I knock, nothing, I knock again, just as silent. I reach for the handle and turn it, cracking open the door, the stench of stomach acid filling my nostrils. I open the door into the dark room, and I wave my hand, and the light flickers on. I behold the sickening sight of my sister. Her abdomen slit across, eyes staring blankly up at the empty ceiling as if perplexed by its mundanity. Arms clutching the sides of her bed as if trying to resist being pulled away by some unseen god. Her stomach acid, pooling, burning, and eating away at her skin. Red stains, blooming like roses on the white sheets. An intricate pattern woven into the threads as if made that way. Suddenly, a wave of an unfamiliar emotion washes down my body, and I clutch the door frame and my head. My eyes never leave her open eyes, the sparkling yellow lost from them, as if fallen into the depths of space. My head flashes through the memories, the beautiful memories, so many, yet now so far away. Feeling like a lifetime ago, the last family I had, the only one worth remembering. A single cold, wet tear falls from my eye. Everything crumbles; it all washes into the screaming river of death. Everything to me, ripped away. I laugh, a hard, empty laugh. Then more, cackling with the destruction of my sister, my little, little sister. I fall to my knees, still staring at her dead, open eyes, cold tears streaking down my face. Laughing. Silent cries of hers when she was young ring in my ears, silent as her body in front of me. It's all just a joke, a giant, laughable joke. It's all so short, so temporary. It never has a happy ending. When it comes knocking at the door, when it lets itself in, when it takes its worth. Feast upon the loss of half of you, it says. Laugh, for you never will again.
