Generation Freaks✔️

Chapter 8.

The orange glow of the night illuminated in the sky and brought forth the tears that it shed, weeping for the souls lost. Paisley was convinced it was those who had perished outside the border of her precious home.

Those who had been whisked away in the demolition of hunger and thirst, all before the sleep could evade them. A painful death no doubt, but their cries were lost on the howling of the thunderous skies. The tinted orange dulled, its shade flickering. It's once peach surface now became a carrot orange, sickly for it was oozing raindrops as an open wound plopped out blood.

Devoid of shelter for any kind, the girl's lay trapped beneath the onslaught of the storm. It struck their flesh in cries of war, seeping below the fabric of their clothes to entangle with their skin. It was ice cold and plastered their hair to their faces and necks, and the fabric of their clothing to their bodies, rendering their movements stiff.

Paisley stood with her head held back and arms outstretched to those who reigned supreme above and let out a crackle of thunder. But it did nothing, her screams went ignored. They went ignored.

Salty tears mixed with the ice tendrils, sending prickles of goosebumps dancing on her cheeks, but Paisley could only close her eyes and embrace the frosty snakes gliding slowly into her mainstream, headed for her heart.

It would wrap its tentacles around the source of her life and squeeze it to a stop. When it'd leave her body, she would be nothing but a corpse that would soon mold into the ground and become a part of it. At least then, she'd be worth something.

As her face lowered, tingling from the hot and cold mixture, just beyond the shroud of darkness, and through the sleet of rain, the tiniest flickers of light sparked. Thinking it was nothing but a trick of her eyes, Paisley spun in a circle, stringlets of hair slapping her face. If there was spraying of water, it was unknown. Her eyes squinted, trying to decipher the silhouette of her best friend.

"Paris." The name was lost in the torrent of screaming ghouls begging to be heard themselves. "Paris, where are you?"

There was no answer, but it was obvious she couldn't be heard and it wasn't hard to realize that if Paris was trying to call for her, she to would go unheard. Paisley was alone. She was a smudge on the earth, forgotten until the day of cleaning sparked an interest for her existence. She was nothing now, and more than ever, Paisley began to feel just how small in the world she truly was. And just how expendable she could be.

Paisley screeched between clenched teeth and kicked at the misty air. Expecting nothing but air to connect with, Paisley was startled when she hit a hard surface. Jolts of pain sizzled up Get leg, but it was the loss of footing on the ground that sent her reeling to the ground, face first. The mud splashed up around her, clogging her nostrils of air, and plunging a fistful into her mouth.

Wrenching up into her hands and knees, Paisley sputtered, coughing up what seemed to be a lung full of muck. The wretched after taste coated the edge of her gum and pebbled were sprinkled along her teeth, grinding in her mouth.

"Paisley," the shaking voice that spoke her name was music to her ears. "Paisley, you did it. It was you." Paris' voice was cracked, as if it had gone without use for days. "You teleported us, it was you the whole time."

Paisley whipped around, desperate to find her friend. The blonde's voice was coming from every corner, magnified to be heard over the moans that creaked in the air. Howls of wind erupted above, pulling handfuls of hair, tugging the strands into headache inducing knots.

Where was Paris?

She stumbled forward, feel globs of muck from her face and plop onto her shirt before it slid down and joined its friends back on the ground. Wiping at her face, she felt the mud smear. It was all over her hands anyways and did nothing to make the mess better. The streaming rain ran streaks through the cake of a mess, but it wasn't much of a help either.