The Quickest Way Out

Volume 1

When It All Began

I was born into a family of secret witches and wizards, oddly enough, when I was born, I was pronounced the rare species of Xana (Always female, a creature of extraordinary beauty believed to live in fountains, rivers, waterfalls or forested regions with pure water.) When I was only a the sprout of a child (6) I loved to view my mothers work as a blacksmith. She worked all day and night and inspired me to build myself. Of course at the time I used crayons and paper and I drew my own swords and knives with the scribble at a time, it took me two seconds flat to make one simple blur of colors before I rushed to show my friends what I had done, when it took my mother hours until figuring out a fault and having to restart her work.

My Father worked in an underground facility with nuclear alcalines. My mother would always send in her creations as tests. They would insert the alcalines into the weapon and see how it would react to human flesh.

I remember seeing soldiers carrying around the weapons to protect the city, we always had to be protected whether it seemed to be a pleasing day or not. Attacks were frequent and protection always was upgraded, I wondered why. Asking my mother wasn't an option, she'd always change the subject or tell me I had to be older to learn about the fight. So I continued to draw out scribbles and blurs on paper or walls, scolded rarely about bleeding the colors on myself.

About a month or two later an earthquake struck our city and only ours. Many people went missing and coincidentally my mother did as well, my father ran away leaving me in the ruins of the quake. I thought of it as a regular movie cliché but I felt broken, I knew I couldn't take care of myself and all my other and older family never even met me. I was on my own from then on yet ever since I had turned 10 years of age I learned how to create my own weapons and utilities -like clothes and food from berries and vegetables-. I fought for me, myself, and I.

Now I am at the place I belong, an independent 18 year old, uneducated Xana, able to speak simplistically, and only trained to defend. I am Nejireta Shinwa, and this is my story...

The First Few Years

I finely heated, molded, chilled, and painted a dagger like weapon with the leftover narcotics from my fathers old business and the scrap metal from the stray pieces of buildings. I packed jars of the residue aid from the hospital into a backpack which I hid in the ruins of my childhood house. Dust, fire, and smoke was the only thing left of the city. I breathed it in like a new day every morning and always scavenged for supplies, food and water, or the same narcotics. There would the the odd occasion where I would find a soldier or two either injured, dead, or clinically insane from the pain of the past. But it was odd, 12 years since the destruction of our neighborhoods, and businesses still had the leftover frostbite of our races. The sky was always foggy and only the sound of the sparks from the treacherous fires and broken glass bits spit from the silence.

There was no sign of any other survivors other than myself, but I always needed to keep myself safe. Any sound distracted me from my task and I always kept myself quiet, speaking was difficult especially since there was no one to speak with. Ever since I was six years of age I was only able to talk with myself.

The trees were only crumbling twigs, the air was only smoke, and the horizon was always blood red. It seemed like the moon was the pupil of a bleeding eye, since it was pure black all the time. There appeared to be no sun since it was always dark at all times and my eyes would soon get used to it. The street lights never worked so I would have to use the fires to guide me around the city.

No one would show their faces anymore, making me think I was the only left survivor.

This happened for a few years yet, until the sky began to clear up and the smoke started to smell more like freedom. The start of a new beginning? I asked myself. Of course it would be.

Future Prologue

As the time goes on for Nejireta, whether she finds survivors or not she must keep herself safe. But from who? She asks herself yet, is she really safe?

A group she could build from ruins, and a life she could live with trusted others feels like paradise in her situation. But the trouble of hard work versus the thought of the Armageddon on it's way.

Stress builds up and the only protection she can give is of others and herself. However she makes this unfold depends completely on herself and how she may run things around herself.

Unselfish and rewarding, she depends on others to help her and only wishes to be able to talk with others that understand her. Hopefully learn better English, and teach them her own.

Safety is her first priority, but could it be her deathly demise?