Aerospacer
Green Skittles ≈ Lysol
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Greetings, citizens of Bulbagarden!
If you haven't met me before, my name is Aerospacer and this is my first post to The Writer's Workshop. It's also my first 'published' work as well, as I'm a bit shy when it comes to broadcasting my exploits. In the case that you happen to like this one shot of mine, then have no fear --I have a fanfic in the works that shall be released someday in the future! And now, onward with the story. It's rather vague and er, frosty, but double-kudos to you, good sir, if you can guess who the character happens to be, because I'm not telling... mwahaha!
I broke out an icy laugh at the bleak, wintry expanse that enveloped the whole world I was within. I was almost completely frozen in this barren, forsaken place.
What had the locals called it, again? It was something overbearing and full of malice… ah, just some colloquialism used to ignite a little bit of superstition. But it was precisely why I had taken so many great measures in order to reach here. I had nothing to live for anymore.
It was becoming dark outside as the white landscape began to take on a dull gray shade, crumbling underneath my sodden, frostbitten fingers like fragments of dust. And it was so, so, cold. The wind tore at my face, whipping sheets of dagger-like ice and slush that pelted my very existence like frigid razors. I placed my head down very gently, feeling the ice bite into my skin. The sensation was vicious, but I was so exhausted.
I was shivering mechanically, mostly jittering as little waves of tension arced throughout my posterior. My limbs were on fire, burning against the ice that refused to melt with its own sheer resistance to my plight. A sizzling ache ripped through each movement as it spliced open the weak points in my muscles, telling me one message over and over again:
You were not prepared.
But unprepared for what, exactly?
Fueled by a sudden surge of anger, I wrenched my tools out of the wall of ice and froze. I was dangling slightly, one boot’s ribbed bottom etched into the icy rock for support. It would be a tricky attempt to lodge myself onto a higher precipice, I discovered while noting the sharp rocks that jutted out haphazardly near my face.
One wrong move and I could potentially slice open this suit, permit the various microbes upon the stone to permeate throughout my system, and ultimately die from a horrific infection.
And I hated death.
I shuddered, for once not worried about the cold. Allowing some festering hate take its own course would not likely serve me well. I delicately placed both feet onto the small outcropping beneath me. The two daggers in my hands were twisted around nervously. With the remaining fingers that were not wrapped around the grip of the tools, I numbly pulled the thick fabric covering my mouth down.
I began to take slow, deep inhalations of air that felt more like liquid nitrogen, freezing the lining of my mouth and lungs. The oxygen levels were so low that I had begun seeing spots in my vision, dancing upon the white landscape and dissolving into the crisp, darkening skyline. The Sun was slipping further down into the sunset stage, though I had many feet to reach before clambering atop the summit. Realizing that my breathing had begun to reach a troubled state, I slipped the cover back over and felt a few of the icicles melt inside my mouth. I ran my tongue along my teeth and hissed with pain as the sensitivity rushed in.
I knew I was weak. My skin was too pale, my frame too slight, my demeanor too cold, and my mindset too headstrong. I had skinny limbs, unused to serious exertion and general turmoil. There were others who would have been directed for heavy-duty work or my biddings, but not I.
My mind was meticulously advanced well beyond its years, but my body was weaker than most. I was better at commanding and analytics, not mindlessly repetitive tasks. And I was going to freeze out here because of that.
Steeling my anxious nerves once more against the ever-present ravine beneath me, I focused on the wall of ice above. I stretched out my right arm, dappled with auras of insanity from the lack of oxygen, and heaved myself upward in a violent burst of energy. The tool broke into the ice instantly.
Without warning, an earsplitting crack rang as the ledge below gave way, ripping up floes of ice from thousands of years, and plummeted down. It gave horrifically resounding crashes as it slammed against anything in its way. Mere seconds later, a splintering sound resonated everywhere as the icy piece of support was dramatically obliterated.
Like a breath of fresh air, my mind registered the current situation: namely that I was now dangling by one tool above a trench that threatened to swallow me up. I was forced to look down, and my stomach churned violently at the sight of death beckoning me with its icy finger-like peaks. The ice was encompassing the whole area. I could feel fragile pinpricks of the surface digging into my exposed wrist. As if lightning itself had suddenly struck me, I wrenched my other tool and slammed it into the snow face.
I hung there momentarily, stung from the exertion, and placed my forehead into the snow. It sunk with a soft crunch. Bits of snow refused to melt as the flakes blew past my reddened face, and I was suddenly aware that my body temperature must have reached dangerously low levels. The freezing that penetrated to my brain was almost caustic in nature.
Instead of attempting to go any further, I laughed weakly, almost losing my grip.
Here I was, hanging onto a broken cliff, merely feet away from the summit, and I couldn’t even take another breath. The overall level of oxygen was lowering quickly. My teeth began to chatter painfully, slamming together with sharp knocks that left my brain spinning. My laugher was becoming hysteric. I was running of precious, precious time. I began scaling towards the summit like a madman, grunting and swearing with each breath. The sharp tools swung into the ice with a frantic pattern, ripping up sprays of frozen water and rock like a drill.
I was an archer, spewing arrows into the awaiting target. Pieces were flung down into the abyss below without another thought. They were annihilated with showers of destruction as they reached the bottom. Even the air seemed less frigid in my insane trance. My tools were slamming into the face with such force that I felt the feeble muscles in my arms stretch and strain with such pain that it merely echoed hollowly throughout my senses.
Blood churned in my ears like a torrent, mimicking the sweat dripping down my back. The drops were freezing and breaking into jagged bits with every movement.
It could have been minutes or hours until I reached the summit.
I could hardly see with the dizzy spots swimming throughout my eyes. Blackness was on all corners as my sight began to tunnel inwards, chasing the colors into a small confine at the center of my vision. My stiff limbs stumbled upon a semi-flat surface that stretched endlessly as they shook violently. The tremors rocked everything into a violent blur that refused to pass. I huddled up in the fetal position, one half of my face glued to the icy floor. My breaths were reduced to weak gasps. The cold leeched into my face and stung once more. The advancing numbing sensation reminded me to get up. Bracing myself against the rocky ice, I shoved my face away from the biting surface.
I hissed in pain as a throbbing sensation took over the fresh, raw patch. Flakes of snow began collecting upon it, dissolving at an alarmingly slow rate. The fruitless climb complete, I blinked around in a daze. The surrounding area was… actually beautiful. This cursed mountain, with its silvery sheen and various frozen rivers, carved the landscape out into its own distinct design. I followed one watery trace with my eyes, blinking every few seconds to retain sight, and became perplexed as it dissolved into a dark spot, speckled with weak particles of light, far off in the distance.
I stiffly looked back over towards my old country and out into the ocean. Far out into the sea, I saw the distant speck of an island cluster… it was where everything had fallen apart for me.
Escaping had been my best decision yet, and this suicidal climb was possibly my worst. Unable to view a particular island anymore, I turned back to the other side of the mountain. I felt the bones pop in my neck as I did so.
Curious still, in a lightheaded sort of way, I squinted against the lowering sun, and saw something.
A flash of gold, in stark contrast with this mountain, glared at me. I shielded my eyes with frozen hands, and peered as far as I could. Spots dappled the skyline once more. Growling with pain, I forced myself to stare at the flash as much as I could. Tears sprang from the depths of my eyes and froze instantly.
I was forced to gaze at this sight until a lone cloud obscured the Sun briefly, cutting out just enough light to permit a proper viewing. Golden, gleaming structures shone out from bronze lowlights in a dazzling conglomerate of metalworking.
“A city… on the other side of the… mountain?” I coughed out, my delicate voice choked with frost.
The frozen moisture in my eyes began to sting as soon as I spoke, almost teasing with my curiosity in a sadistic sort of way. I began hyperventilating.
“No… it is… an entire country…”
Limbs shaking, I slowly stood up. The effort nearly stirred up a blackout, surely enough to cause a plummet into the toothed abyss below. The winds seemed to stop at that very moment. A finger of sunlight wrapped its way around the cloud and pinpointed a certain golden tower. I recognized its curious design. Lost in the moment, I witnessed its beautiful structure for a split second.
Then a thought occurred to me in that airless void.
A complex plan was suddenly unraveled in seconds, my brain eagerly taking on the task. It was a brilliant plan, filled with so many factors that could potentially ruin the entire scheme, but oh, I calculated it all with the vigor of an oppressed society long consumed with rebellion. My conscious screamed louder. Loud enough to drown out all the oppression I had ever endured. I could have cried. This plan was perfect, and I could redeem myself tenfold. I could even fulfill my vow, spoken on that cursed island so long ago. Every facet of my mind lit up with a golden light.
Reaching beneath my thick coat with sodden fingers, I tore at a small patch on my suit manically. I stood there hurrying until the seams ripped apart. I could repair that later. I pulled it out with a gentle movement and stared at the piece of fabric. The edges were frayed, a stain was evident on the uppermost corner, there were damp places from my hand, and it had lost its original sheen. I broke a frozen smile at the sight of it, and carefully held it up against the Sun for the light to shine through the symbol. It was a simple design that ultimately described my entire life. Feeling a bubble of joy emerge, I threw my head back and laughed once more, a quiet chuckle that quickly burst into a staccato of insane laughter as the winds hissed along.
A symbol was plastered into the sky, whipping above a golden city on the death zone of a silver mountain as its carmine contrast spoke of the times to come.
—Aerospacer
If you haven't met me before, my name is Aerospacer and this is my first post to The Writer's Workshop. It's also my first 'published' work as well, as I'm a bit shy when it comes to broadcasting my exploits. In the case that you happen to like this one shot of mine, then have no fear --I have a fanfic in the works that shall be released someday in the future! And now, onward with the story. It's rather vague and er, frosty, but double-kudos to you, good sir, if you can guess who the character happens to be, because I'm not telling... mwahaha!
“The Death Zone”
I broke out an icy laugh at the bleak, wintry expanse that enveloped the whole world I was within. I was almost completely frozen in this barren, forsaken place.
What had the locals called it, again? It was something overbearing and full of malice… ah, just some colloquialism used to ignite a little bit of superstition. But it was precisely why I had taken so many great measures in order to reach here. I had nothing to live for anymore.
It was becoming dark outside as the white landscape began to take on a dull gray shade, crumbling underneath my sodden, frostbitten fingers like fragments of dust. And it was so, so, cold. The wind tore at my face, whipping sheets of dagger-like ice and slush that pelted my very existence like frigid razors. I placed my head down very gently, feeling the ice bite into my skin. The sensation was vicious, but I was so exhausted.
I was shivering mechanically, mostly jittering as little waves of tension arced throughout my posterior. My limbs were on fire, burning against the ice that refused to melt with its own sheer resistance to my plight. A sizzling ache ripped through each movement as it spliced open the weak points in my muscles, telling me one message over and over again:
You were not prepared.
But unprepared for what, exactly?
Fueled by a sudden surge of anger, I wrenched my tools out of the wall of ice and froze. I was dangling slightly, one boot’s ribbed bottom etched into the icy rock for support. It would be a tricky attempt to lodge myself onto a higher precipice, I discovered while noting the sharp rocks that jutted out haphazardly near my face.
One wrong move and I could potentially slice open this suit, permit the various microbes upon the stone to permeate throughout my system, and ultimately die from a horrific infection.
And I hated death.
I shuddered, for once not worried about the cold. Allowing some festering hate take its own course would not likely serve me well. I delicately placed both feet onto the small outcropping beneath me. The two daggers in my hands were twisted around nervously. With the remaining fingers that were not wrapped around the grip of the tools, I numbly pulled the thick fabric covering my mouth down.
I began to take slow, deep inhalations of air that felt more like liquid nitrogen, freezing the lining of my mouth and lungs. The oxygen levels were so low that I had begun seeing spots in my vision, dancing upon the white landscape and dissolving into the crisp, darkening skyline. The Sun was slipping further down into the sunset stage, though I had many feet to reach before clambering atop the summit. Realizing that my breathing had begun to reach a troubled state, I slipped the cover back over and felt a few of the icicles melt inside my mouth. I ran my tongue along my teeth and hissed with pain as the sensitivity rushed in.
I knew I was weak. My skin was too pale, my frame too slight, my demeanor too cold, and my mindset too headstrong. I had skinny limbs, unused to serious exertion and general turmoil. There were others who would have been directed for heavy-duty work or my biddings, but not I.
My mind was meticulously advanced well beyond its years, but my body was weaker than most. I was better at commanding and analytics, not mindlessly repetitive tasks. And I was going to freeze out here because of that.
Steeling my anxious nerves once more against the ever-present ravine beneath me, I focused on the wall of ice above. I stretched out my right arm, dappled with auras of insanity from the lack of oxygen, and heaved myself upward in a violent burst of energy. The tool broke into the ice instantly.
Without warning, an earsplitting crack rang as the ledge below gave way, ripping up floes of ice from thousands of years, and plummeted down. It gave horrifically resounding crashes as it slammed against anything in its way. Mere seconds later, a splintering sound resonated everywhere as the icy piece of support was dramatically obliterated.
Like a breath of fresh air, my mind registered the current situation: namely that I was now dangling by one tool above a trench that threatened to swallow me up. I was forced to look down, and my stomach churned violently at the sight of death beckoning me with its icy finger-like peaks. The ice was encompassing the whole area. I could feel fragile pinpricks of the surface digging into my exposed wrist. As if lightning itself had suddenly struck me, I wrenched my other tool and slammed it into the snow face.
I hung there momentarily, stung from the exertion, and placed my forehead into the snow. It sunk with a soft crunch. Bits of snow refused to melt as the flakes blew past my reddened face, and I was suddenly aware that my body temperature must have reached dangerously low levels. The freezing that penetrated to my brain was almost caustic in nature.
Instead of attempting to go any further, I laughed weakly, almost losing my grip.
Here I was, hanging onto a broken cliff, merely feet away from the summit, and I couldn’t even take another breath. The overall level of oxygen was lowering quickly. My teeth began to chatter painfully, slamming together with sharp knocks that left my brain spinning. My laugher was becoming hysteric. I was running of precious, precious time. I began scaling towards the summit like a madman, grunting and swearing with each breath. The sharp tools swung into the ice with a frantic pattern, ripping up sprays of frozen water and rock like a drill.
I was an archer, spewing arrows into the awaiting target. Pieces were flung down into the abyss below without another thought. They were annihilated with showers of destruction as they reached the bottom. Even the air seemed less frigid in my insane trance. My tools were slamming into the face with such force that I felt the feeble muscles in my arms stretch and strain with such pain that it merely echoed hollowly throughout my senses.
Blood churned in my ears like a torrent, mimicking the sweat dripping down my back. The drops were freezing and breaking into jagged bits with every movement.
It could have been minutes or hours until I reached the summit.
I could hardly see with the dizzy spots swimming throughout my eyes. Blackness was on all corners as my sight began to tunnel inwards, chasing the colors into a small confine at the center of my vision. My stiff limbs stumbled upon a semi-flat surface that stretched endlessly as they shook violently. The tremors rocked everything into a violent blur that refused to pass. I huddled up in the fetal position, one half of my face glued to the icy floor. My breaths were reduced to weak gasps. The cold leeched into my face and stung once more. The advancing numbing sensation reminded me to get up. Bracing myself against the rocky ice, I shoved my face away from the biting surface.
I hissed in pain as a throbbing sensation took over the fresh, raw patch. Flakes of snow began collecting upon it, dissolving at an alarmingly slow rate. The fruitless climb complete, I blinked around in a daze. The surrounding area was… actually beautiful. This cursed mountain, with its silvery sheen and various frozen rivers, carved the landscape out into its own distinct design. I followed one watery trace with my eyes, blinking every few seconds to retain sight, and became perplexed as it dissolved into a dark spot, speckled with weak particles of light, far off in the distance.
I stiffly looked back over towards my old country and out into the ocean. Far out into the sea, I saw the distant speck of an island cluster… it was where everything had fallen apart for me.
Escaping had been my best decision yet, and this suicidal climb was possibly my worst. Unable to view a particular island anymore, I turned back to the other side of the mountain. I felt the bones pop in my neck as I did so.
Curious still, in a lightheaded sort of way, I squinted against the lowering sun, and saw something.
A flash of gold, in stark contrast with this mountain, glared at me. I shielded my eyes with frozen hands, and peered as far as I could. Spots dappled the skyline once more. Growling with pain, I forced myself to stare at the flash as much as I could. Tears sprang from the depths of my eyes and froze instantly.
I was forced to gaze at this sight until a lone cloud obscured the Sun briefly, cutting out just enough light to permit a proper viewing. Golden, gleaming structures shone out from bronze lowlights in a dazzling conglomerate of metalworking.
“A city… on the other side of the… mountain?” I coughed out, my delicate voice choked with frost.
The frozen moisture in my eyes began to sting as soon as I spoke, almost teasing with my curiosity in a sadistic sort of way. I began hyperventilating.
“No… it is… an entire country…”
Limbs shaking, I slowly stood up. The effort nearly stirred up a blackout, surely enough to cause a plummet into the toothed abyss below. The winds seemed to stop at that very moment. A finger of sunlight wrapped its way around the cloud and pinpointed a certain golden tower. I recognized its curious design. Lost in the moment, I witnessed its beautiful structure for a split second.
Then a thought occurred to me in that airless void.
A complex plan was suddenly unraveled in seconds, my brain eagerly taking on the task. It was a brilliant plan, filled with so many factors that could potentially ruin the entire scheme, but oh, I calculated it all with the vigor of an oppressed society long consumed with rebellion. My conscious screamed louder. Loud enough to drown out all the oppression I had ever endured. I could have cried. This plan was perfect, and I could redeem myself tenfold. I could even fulfill my vow, spoken on that cursed island so long ago. Every facet of my mind lit up with a golden light.
Reaching beneath my thick coat with sodden fingers, I tore at a small patch on my suit manically. I stood there hurrying until the seams ripped apart. I could repair that later. I pulled it out with a gentle movement and stared at the piece of fabric. The edges were frayed, a stain was evident on the uppermost corner, there were damp places from my hand, and it had lost its original sheen. I broke a frozen smile at the sight of it, and carefully held it up against the Sun for the light to shine through the symbol. It was a simple design that ultimately described my entire life. Feeling a bubble of joy emerge, I threw my head back and laughed once more, a quiet chuckle that quickly burst into a staccato of insane laughter as the winds hissed along.
A symbol was plastered into the sky, whipping above a golden city on the death zone of a silver mountain as its carmine contrast spoke of the times to come.
—Aerospacer
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