Resurrection {NaNoWriMo}

Chapter 1

                 

This book is for NaNoWriMo, so I will be updating it on a daily basis. This is my first time trying the whole novel in a month thing, so I hope you enjoy taking this adventure with me. It's going to be one heck of a ride.

The world was crying.

Its tears of ash and fire streaked across the sky, cloaking the people in darkness and igniting the land. The ground rumbled, quaking and splitting. Peoples, homes, communities fell through the cracks, engulfed by the raging planet. Streaks of lightning lurched from the looming clouds, setting fire to the foods the people had so painstakingly grown. Within a matter of hours, the world had begun to reduce itself to a pile of ash.

The gods were angry. More than angry, infuriated and bloodthirsty. They sought retribution, and if blood was in the gods' wishes, then blood they would get.

A boy with a reddish mass of curls on top his head tumbled across the quivering ground. He tripped and flopped like a doll against its power, and as ash and fire rained down upon him, his clothes grew singed and tattered. His lungs ached to breathe through the flames and smoke. His body screamed in protest as he trudged on. He couldn't yet fathom the fate that was ensuing upon his community, upon the only home he had ever known, or the toll his journey was taking on his weak body. He only knew that he had to get home, that he had to find her.

He collided to the ground as the earth cracked again, mere meters away from him, and the fires of hell seemed to claw out from the cut in the surface, greedy for human lives. He scrambled on his hands and knees across the brown grass, no longer able to stand, but he could see the stone house now. There was hope. He was close.

His breaths were ragged and harsh as he managed his way down the path; half crawling, half stumbling. The houses around his were either enflamed or empty. The screams in the distance fell deaf upon his ears as he strained to hear the tiny voice imprinted to his memory. He heard no cries, no shouts. It was eerily still against the raging world as he came to his home, and he gripped the door for strength as he pulled himself up right.

"Alana," he screeched, his voice cracked and strained. "Alana!"

He shoved the door open, hobbled into the living area, and desperately searched for the small girl. He found no girl, but he found a jumbled mess of wrecked furniture and splitting walls. He tumbled past the entryway, through what once had been a living room, and into their small kitchen. Blood splattered the floor and shards of broken class cut into his feet and he walked across the wood floor. He yelped and fell back, bruising his back as he collided into the counter.

"Alana!"

No one replied. There was no sound other than his scratchy breathing. His heart jolting, he moved on, into his parents' room, leaving a trail of bloody footprints.

He threw open the closet doors, shoving through dusty holed clothes. No little blonde girl cowered in the corner, no soft voice called out for him, always seeking his protection and always so fearful of the world.

Desperate, he fell to the ground and looked under the bed, finding nothing but cobwebs.  Shouting out in frustration, he lurched onto his burning feet and went into their shared room, his last hope hanging by a thread.

"Alana!"

He casted the blankets off his bed, and then franticly tore hers apart too, finding them empty. He limped to their closet, finding no more than he had in his parents, and then to their rotting dresser. He shoved it back, seeking if she was hiding behind it in the hidden corner she often crept to when they played hide-and-seek. But she wasn't there. A stained stone wall leered at him as he came to realize that his little sister might be lost for good.