Break Us Free

Loose Threads

Genesis

This fateful tale of love had two origins, one human and one forged from metal and oil and glass.

The latter has usually been seen in the latest history books published, the start of all. The day humankind corrupted every single sacred thing, the day we spit on the gates of paradise and made ourselves gods. The day love lost.

But I propose a new genesis, something more primordial.

And so, there were eight mothers. A melancholic housewife who wanted to be a nurse, a marginalized actress who wanted a fair world, a runaway secret who wanted to live freely, a depressed duchess who wanted to love her maid, a lonely widow who wanted to be enough, a vengeful spy who wanted to have a choice, a perfect child who wanted to make a mistake and a normal teenager who wanted to die.

Like yarn threads being braided into a blanket, their stories overlapped and transformed one another even though most of them never met. They were bonded since the start by some gold thread in their lives tapestry. They didn't share the same age, republic or status, they all shared their pain, their agony, their heavy hearts, their muffled cries and their love.

Back to the other beginning, the macabre one.

What happens when all the ignorant choices and all the unfair actions fall into the other like dominoes causing at each fall a louder noise and a greater cost to be paid? What happens when the last domino falls, pushed by all those others who only grew bigger and bigger, what sound comes out of that last game piece that ended the pattern?

It's the sound of temple bells ringing and sirens screaming and people crying.

It's the sound all the astral creatures heard from all the corners of the universe; it came from Mondine.

It started as fog, darker than usual. Then came a greenish deathlike coat to the clouds, that covered the sun and brought the Forever Night. Suddenly it started to condense and meander in the air, the green smoke creeped through the buildings like snakes and rushed into the people's system, blocked the air, glued to their blood and skin, burned their lungs and eyes.

The smell of decease and toxicity ruled as the green clouds swirled up in the sky forming the odd shape of an eye that looked down with pity for it's dirty children. The last domino crushed our existence with it's mighty judge hammer.

And all that hell had it's roots in a human mind, the gods aren't as creative.

A madman with a wish.

Who pushed the line of dominoes?

An invisible hand, white and cold as snow. A secret.

What was meant for the eye to see and for the ear to hear and for the mouth to claim is the following:

Neoi and Ishyri fought, Neoi wanted independence and Ishyri wanted whatever wasn't convenient for non-Ishyree. Ishyri is a republic forged and moulded into war and violence and Neoi is a small piece of land with no real economy and a lot of infertile lands. Neoi got a helping hand from the Three of Steel: Notia, who devoured, Aquilos, who condemned, and Latinika, who just obeyed.

The great three republics and the small rotten colony fought against Ishyree troops for years with no sign of success. Almost everyone had given up, but suddenly Neoi won. How they did that? A secret. But Aquilos bragged and Ishyri gave autonomy to their colony.

A rivalry started; blood rained.

It started with spies, then killing important people from each republic's delegation. Ishyri and Aquilos had the gods biting their nails and twisting their fingers. The world was on edge, one simple blow and it was done, the dominoes would start falling.