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I'm no longer on WtW and have withdrew the majority of my pieces. If you want to get in touch, you can message me on Instagram or my email (found in 'Message from Writer').

Thanks for being around, guys! Keep writing and DFTBA.

Message to Readers

I'm still on my break (or a hiatus, if you want to be fancy). I just decided that I owe it to those who have been reading the series to publish another part. In case you haven't been able to tell, this one will be longer than the Mission mini-series.
Again, sorry for making you wait (for the past two weeks). And shoutout to those who are following my Struck series (you've been waiting for soooo long. Oops).

Explosion, pt. 3

February 8, 2019


Explosion, pt. 2
The first time I rode a bicycle, I was seven. We lived on our farm in Kyoto at the time. My father had finally scrounged up enough money from savings to buy off one of our neighbor's old bikes. It was rusty and the back rubber wheel was torn off, but my sisters and I worked hard to restore it. 
We painted it bright blue and white, just like the sky. We had wanted to feel like we were flying. And when I rode that rusty old bike, I did feel like I was flying higher than birds and B-29s. 
The second time I rode it, I was going too fast. I had never learned how to ride it correctly. I rode down a hill, still pedaling quickly. I couldn't stay balanced, so I fell onto my side and off the bike, rolling down the hill. Once I reached the bottom, the bicycle rolled right over me. 
My sisters laughed at me and ran down the hill quickly. I lay down on the dirt ground, waiting for them to come and nurse my wounds, blood pouring from cuts on my arms and legs, staring at the bright blue sky that I so badly wanted to fly in. 
I stare at that sky now, through the broken roof of the bakery. Amie had hurried outside a few minutes ago, hoping to find someone else to help. I sit on sharp debris cutting through my skirt and into my flesh beside a silent Youta. Thinking about it now, I had circled the entire bakery before coming right back to where I had started. 
By the table where I was trapped, Youta was unconscious behind a small pile of bricks and stone before Amie and I found him. He is fine, except for a gash in his stomach that won't stop bleeding. I suppose he isn't fine. But he is better than that impaled girl. I shake the image from my mind violently. 
"A-a-are you okay?" Youta croaks through his papery lips. I nod and give him a weak smile. I have no medical experience. I wish I knew what to do with his wounds, but I don't. 
I stare back at the sky, wishing that I wasn't so numb. Amie and I had searched the entire store, hoping to find someone who was alive. There was only one other person we found, but he hurried out of the bakery before we could talk to him. 
Light footsteps seemed to boom in the silent space, startling me from my numbed state. Amie steps over shards of glass and piles of stones as she nears us, blood drying on her forehead. She kneels down beside me and shakes her head. I can only exhale deeply, my fingers tightening into fists. 
"What are we going to do?" I whisper, trying to keep my tears at bay. Amie shrugs and glances out of the gaping hole she had entered the bakery through. I know what she's thinking: Let's leave Youta. He'll only be a burden if we go with him. He won't survive for much longer, anyway. But I won't leave him. Taking a deep breath, I relax my fingers and touch Amie's shoulder gently. "If the authorities know that there are still survivors in the city, they'll come faster. You should go to--" 
Amie was already on her feet and moving out of the bakery rapidly before I finish my sentence. I let her go, sinking further in my pit of despair. 
"Help m-me. Take. Off. M-my. S-shirt," Youta's voice is weak and sudden. I turn to look at him in surprise. I watch him struggle to sit up, his breathing labored. Taking another deep breath, I crouch down beside him and push him up. This is the first time I am grateful for his military training and for the death of his comrades. No sound escapes him as he sits, even though I am sure that his entire abdomen is burning with pain. 
I move my body beside him as support before gently prying off his black hoodie. A gasp of pain shudders through him as I try to pull the jacket off of him, straining his chest. His blue shirt underneath is blood-soaked from his gash, which is suddenly pouring out more blood than before. His shaking hands press against his side in a desperate attempt as I try to rip his shirt off. The weak fabric tears easily, exposing his pale skin. I force myself to pay attention to getting the shirt off. 
"Here. I have it," I whisper, holding out the bundle of blue toward him. I watch him carefully as he tears part of the shirt and stuffs it in the wound. He then hands me the rest, sweat on his brow. 
"T-t-tie it around. Please," he groans. I take the bundle and tie it quickly and messily against his wound. After, I hurry to cover his body with his jacket. 
Once I'm done, I sit back on my heels. Youta holds himself up, his gaze unfocused. "What now? Should we wait here?" I ask, gazing at my bloodstained hands. 
Youta's head tilts up slowly and he slurs, "Kei-chan, we have to leave." 


See History
  • February 8, 2019 - 8:46am (Now Viewing)

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  • Mary Wall

    I'm enthralled....:)

    about 1 year ago
  • korra4life

    No worries! I totally understand that people get sidetracked. Things happen.
    I'm glad you love the miniseries so much. Sorry for taking so long to publish another chapter. Also, thanks for the compliments!

    about 1 year ago
  • Quille

    Wow. Sorry, I wasn't the right back to read, but no matter how I tried to forget about it... XD
    Actually, I tried to come right back, but couldn't make it as quickly as I wanted :)

    I am very much loving this miniseries and the characters in it. Can't wait to see what happens next, but I will try to be patient :)
    I was so glad that Youta is still alive, but I see there's still quite a possibility that he'll die. If he does.............. I'll still love it because I totally understand that some characters, even if they're favorites, have to die :)
    You're a fantastic writer, please don't let yourself tell you you're not. :D

    about 1 year ago
  • Quille

    I'll be right back to read this! :)

    about 1 year ago