One Side Of Paradise-Chapter 1

Instructions

Yoooo I actually did it XD Once again this story leans into sci-fi/horror, do not read if you are under the age of 13 or sensitive to: bl00d, g0re, de@th, or other sensitive topics. If you like the story, let me know! If not, just ignore it. Anyways, let's get started Notes: This chapter is pretty tame lol. I kind of hate it and feel that the pacing is a bit awkward. TWs for this chapter: Referenced death The denizens of Paraxi were filled with the kind of desolation that lingers in the mud long after they’re dead. It was the kind of desolation that fills you when all hope is gone, when you realize, too late, you’ve left everything behind for a shiny new world that isn’t so shiny. You could practically see Death waiting just around the corner for everyone, from the rich peacocks of humanity, well-groomed and clothes immaculate, to the man who always sat on the corner of 3rd and Main rattling a perpetually empty can, to the little kids who giggled and kicked a ball around. Every building was built of dark, cracked brick, with shattered windows and odd green spiderwebs that weren’t really spiderwebs. The town had been hastily built, trying to look like it hadn’t been built as a last-ditch effort for survival. The buildings down Main Street were crumbling and dark, but further down, as the streets winded back and forth, closer to the edges of the dense jungle, the buildings began to crumble even further, the stones damp with moisture, the streets cracked, with plants growing through the sidewalk. The buildings here were made with less and less material, and were caving in on themselves, barely made of enough material to support themselves. One house lay at the very edge of the town, so close to the edge of the jungle that it seemed to be half-absorbed into the trees. Vines and ivy wrapped around the house, and the roof seemed half-made of trees. A figure stood on the roof, adjusting the leaves. Short, dark brown hair with bleached streaks through it, like rivers through the mountains, dropped in front of their eyes, they kept pausing to wipe it away from their face. Their skin was a shade of light brown, slightly burned, covered in freckles, from too much time spent in the sun. Their features were sharp and narrow. They sat on the roof, adjusting the leaves to better cover the roof before they climbed down, brushing their hands off. “Quinn!” a pale, tall man called. His pale peach skin wasn’t scarred from the light of two suns, his clothes weren’t stained with red dust. Quinn hated him, watching from his pedestal as people starved and died. All their hate melted away as they saw his face. His expression was grave and slightly nauseous, and Quinn immediately knew what had happened. “Another one?” they called.