rain
Heavy drops hit the ground, faster and faster. Nowhere to hide.
Try squinting through the downpour. Nothing but rain and mist.
Change in the wind. Water bullets in face. Pain.
Move forward, towards something, in a direction.
Face and hands are numb. Ears sting. Nose runs.
Sink to the ground, hug yourself warm.
Eyes shut tight. Breath cold clouds.
Wind howls soften. Heavy drops lighten.
Eyes open. Knees strengthen.
Stand before a city.
Finally, the mind clears.
shelter
A skinny young lady tiptoes through the narrow, mossy streets, carefully avoiding puddles. She clutches a camera close to her chest, protecting it from the water droplets falling from the edges of worn out ledges and posts. She creeps closer, observing you a little before she taps you lightly on the shoulder.
S-sorry... but why did you come here? she asks in a timid voice.
...
So... You were swept here in a storm... she pauses for a moment, her eyes astray.
Well, you should get warm and dry. You don't want to catch a cold.
She beckons you to follow her through an alleyway lined with climbing plants and down a scruffy abandoned street until you reach a house with a little less nature taking over it. She opens the unlocked door and invites you inside with a half-hearted smile.
girl
Oh... I should probably introduce myself. Sorry!
the basics
Name: Lirxs
Gender: female
Species: aisha
Age: 21
Born: november 16th
Build: scrawny
Eyes: pale brown
Extras: hat, camera
Skills: stealthy, agile, artistic eye
Occupation: freelance photographer
Theme Song: Saved by The Dear Hunter
Personality: careful
look further
Lirxs is a supposedly orphaned girl, haunted by her past. She is often distant and has little attention span. Her mind often wanders into her own artistic vision of the world. While she isn't a good listener, Lirxs is very polite and gentle. She isn't shy but often comes off that way as she can never find anything to talk about unless asked something specific. Living in a ghost town, she knows the life she leads isn't 'normal' and can feel alienated from the world. She longs for a home, a family... but not just any. Hers. So here she'll wait until her parents find her.
past
Not all stories have an ending. However, they all have to start somewhere. Let's begin.
the present
The city thrived with people, with laughter, with life. We lived in a wealthy place with so many opportunities. These were golden days.
I held my mother's hand to cross the street, and into a shop on the other side. It was fascinating - lenses of all sizes were everywhere with all different models of... cameras. Maybe that doesn't sound amazing, but each to their own. I had always taken a keen interest in my father's camera but I was always told that I was too young to play with it. She walked me to the counter where a box was waiting for us. My eyes gleamed with hope, and a wide smile broke onto my face when she placed it in my hands.
Happy birthday, darling! she smiled down at me.
It was my very own camera! It was a small, humble thing, but it was perfect for me. As soon as we were home, the picture taking began. My parents left me to my joy, perhaps a little too long. I pressed my ear to the closed door to hear hurried talking, the television buzzing in the background. I could only make out the occasional words. Dangerous. Spreading. Leak. Do something. Confused, I reached up to open the door only to find the handle turning. My father opened it, his face turned back into the room.
Let's just sleep on it. We were told not to take any drastic actions, and it'll all be sorted out anyway. They have loads of people working on it, I promise.
I asked him about it, but he distracted me, asking to see my photos. He said I had an artistic eye and I could be as good as him in no time at all. Overjoyed, I let their secret conversation slip to the back of my mind.
I held my mother's hand to cross the street, and into a shop on the other side. It was fascinating - lenses of all sizes were everywhere with all different models of... cameras. Maybe that doesn't sound amazing, but each to their own. I had always taken a keen interest in my father's camera but I was always told that I was too young to play with it. She walked me to the counter where a box was waiting for us. My eyes gleamed with hope, and a wide smile broke onto my face when she placed it in my hands.
Happy birthday, darling! she smiled down at me.
It was my very own camera! It was a small, humble thing, but it was perfect for me. As soon as we were home, the picture taking began. My parents left me to my joy, perhaps a little too long. I pressed my ear to the closed door to hear hurried talking, the television buzzing in the background. I could only make out the occasional words. Dangerous. Spreading. Leak. Do something. Confused, I reached up to open the door only to find the handle turning. My father opened it, his face turned back into the room.
Let's just sleep on it. We were told not to take any drastic actions, and it'll all be sorted out anyway. They have loads of people working on it, I promise.
I asked him about it, but he distracted me, asking to see my photos. He said I had an artistic eye and I could be as good as him in no time at all. Overjoyed, I let their secret conversation slip to the back of my mind.
the parting
Why is everyone running? I asked my parents as we pushed through the heaving streets, clutching my camera close.
We think it would be nice to go for a brea- my father began, but he was cut off.
Just stop it. I think she should at least know what's going on. mother snapped. There's been some gas leaks, sweetie. They thought they could fix it, but it's a lot worse than anyone thought. No-one can stop it spreading through the city, so we're going. We wouldn't want it to... make us ill.
I didn't fully understand, but I kept quiet. We forced our way down the street until we got to where our car should have been. There was broken glass on the ground, but nothing more. My parents argued.
There's no time to drive anyway, we would never make it out alive!
These words were followed by a short silence. My head spun. Alive? She told me it would only make us ill...
I had no time to think. There were more shouts, and everyone started moving faster. We fought our way to some rescue helicopters, our last chance to make it out of the city. My parents climbed into one, and just as my father reached down for me, the crowd started pushing more frantically. I almost caught his hand, but I tripped and fell to the floor. There was a fuzz in my ears and I trembled on the ground as shouts became echoes and my vision went black.
I woke up in the air, in a tightly packed helicopter. But everyone was a stranger.
Take me back! I shouted, tears streaming down my face.
But there was nothing they could do. My only hope was that our helicopters landed in the same evacuation area, but it was not high. I trembled more than ever, my knees knocking together as I sat hunched with my face in my arms.
I felt queasy and weak as we came down to the unfamiliar earth. My head hurt, my eyes were sore and my throat was dry. We were the last to arrive, and I knew none of the other people. The tears started again, this time gushing so much I couldn't see. This couldn't be real...
We think it would be nice to go for a brea- my father began, but he was cut off.
Just stop it. I think she should at least know what's going on. mother snapped. There's been some gas leaks, sweetie. They thought they could fix it, but it's a lot worse than anyone thought. No-one can stop it spreading through the city, so we're going. We wouldn't want it to... make us ill.
I didn't fully understand, but I kept quiet. We forced our way down the street until we got to where our car should have been. There was broken glass on the ground, but nothing more. My parents argued.
There's no time to drive anyway, we would never make it out alive!
These words were followed by a short silence. My head spun. Alive? She told me it would only make us ill...
I had no time to think. There were more shouts, and everyone started moving faster. We fought our way to some rescue helicopters, our last chance to make it out of the city. My parents climbed into one, and just as my father reached down for me, the crowd started pushing more frantically. I almost caught his hand, but I tripped and fell to the floor. There was a fuzz in my ears and I trembled on the ground as shouts became echoes and my vision went black.
I woke up in the air, in a tightly packed helicopter. But everyone was a stranger.
Take me back! I shouted, tears streaming down my face.
But there was nothing they could do. My only hope was that our helicopters landed in the same evacuation area, but it was not high. I trembled more than ever, my knees knocking together as I sat hunched with my face in my arms.
I felt queasy and weak as we came down to the unfamiliar earth. My head hurt, my eyes were sore and my throat was dry. We were the last to arrive, and I knew none of the other people. The tears started again, this time gushing so much I couldn't see. This couldn't be real...
the cold
Thousands - no, hundreds of thousands - were evacuated that day, and many seperated. It was too much to sort out, especially with the city in such a state. Hundreds of millions were spent trying to restore the city, to make it safe. It worked, but years had to be spent cleaning up, rebuilding damaged homes and re-piping. Then the flood came. It was devastating to many cities, but ours had it the worst. All the work that had been done was lost, leaving our home in a worse state than it was before. So much money had been wasted, so we gave up hope. The city was left to rot.
And me? I was sent to an orphanage. Of course, I hated it at first, but I learned to fit in. I didn't exactly talk to any of the other children there - I couldn't imagine their pain. Their parents were gone. I hung onto my thread of hope that mine were alive and well, and would find me one day. I was even a little thankful.
It was there I became who I was now. I never spoke and always snuck around with my camera, so they called me Lurks. I let it be my name, my alias. Though, I was young and writing wasn't my thing, so I spelled my name Lirxs. I do like it that way, it makes it just that bit more out-of-the-ordinary.
I became distant to the world. The real world was harsh and cruel, I preferred my own. My childhood was spent lost in my mind and my photographs. I suppose I still am.
And me? I was sent to an orphanage. Of course, I hated it at first, but I learned to fit in. I didn't exactly talk to any of the other children there - I couldn't imagine their pain. Their parents were gone. I hung onto my thread of hope that mine were alive and well, and would find me one day. I was even a little thankful.
It was there I became who I was now. I never spoke and always snuck around with my camera, so they called me Lurks. I let it be my name, my alias. Though, I was young and writing wasn't my thing, so I spelled my name Lirxs. I do like it that way, it makes it just that bit more out-of-the-ordinary.
I became distant to the world. The real world was harsh and cruel, I preferred my own. My childhood was spent lost in my mind and my photographs. I suppose I still am.
the home
As soon as I turned eighteen I left the orphanage. I had no connections, no money - or at least not enough to get a place to stay - but I was fine with that. I knew where I was going to go.
As I re-entered the city, I felt a mix of sadness, emptiness, fear, and just a touch of fascination. It was like a place from my world, except it wasn't changing back to normal.
Every street was deserted except for the wildlife that had started to grow there. The crumbled houses were coated in a blanket of moss and climbing plants, trees grew out of windows and roofs and birds nested on top of rusted cars. Some of the streets were now streams, insects buzzing lazily around them. To some this would be a sorry sight, but to me it was magical.
It took me a while to get my bearings, but I found my house. Half of it had fallen through, leaving it very small and shabby. A little work had to be done, I thought to myself. It wasn't the same, but it didn't make it any less what it was - my place of living. I brushed the cobwebs off the door handle before slowly turning it and walking into my home once more.
As I re-entered the city, I felt a mix of sadness, emptiness, fear, and just a touch of fascination. It was like a place from my world, except it wasn't changing back to normal.
Every street was deserted except for the wildlife that had started to grow there. The crumbled houses were coated in a blanket of moss and climbing plants, trees grew out of windows and roofs and birds nested on top of rusted cars. Some of the streets were now streams, insects buzzing lazily around them. To some this would be a sorry sight, but to me it was magical.
It took me a while to get my bearings, but I found my house. Half of it had fallen through, leaving it very small and shabby. A little work had to be done, I thought to myself. It wasn't the same, but it didn't make it any less what it was - my place of living. I brushed the cobwebs off the door handle before slowly turning it and walking into my home once more.
It's been two years since my return. I'm waiting here for my parents. I have no proof, but I know in my heart that they are alive. They'll come for me one day.
You can see I've done a little to the house since I came here! I've never done housework like this before, so I'm quite proud. I travel out to a town a couple of hour's cycle from here weekly to get supplies, sometimes more often. I've made friends there that let me stay in their homes sometimes, it's comforting to have. So, I get by like this, and enjoy it too. You wouldn't believe how many photographic opportunities there are here!
photographs
...My camera? Yes, I always carry it around.
Photographs not only hold memories, they capture the world through the photographer's eyes. They say that everyone's vision is a little different, so here is mine.
more soon!
Photographs not only hold memories, they capture the world through the photographer's eyes. They say that everyone's vision is a little different, so here is mine.
by khalivea
more soon!
by others
art by others
adoptables
Don't steal, trace, or claim as your own. Please only take customs that were made for you!
defaults
customs
playbox
return
Sat by the fire, warmth seeps pleasantly through your body. You're definitely not wet or cold anymore. You gaze out of the dusty window and out into the grey ghost town. The sun has almost faded...
It's been nice to meet you, but I think you should get home before it's dark. the aisha smiles. Besides, I wanted to take a few photos while the sun's still up!
.....and a picture goes here. WAY TO WRITE THOSE LAST INSPIRING WORDS BECCA
all content by khalivea unless otherwise stated.