1It was filthy. Not to the point that the street's had been lined with visible dirt, even if the air was filled with dust from summer's miserable drought. The place was filled with dirt. Dirt of their eyes, dirt of their breath, and voice, the dirt of their most was the dirt of their blood that caused the filthiness of the streets.
If there was a prologue to this story..Then it would have started even before it actually even began...It would have started before the loss, and before the death that made almost all of Nicaranma burn in flames of agony. It was this tale, of horrible, lust and love that began something so vulgar that the tip if the iceberg was what tipped the scale.
It was Corruption..That broke their humanity.
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I was tired lost and sick that day. It was raining a know the type of rain that made you think hard about divine power? That if there was any out there had it just created the rains and cold for only you..And still to this day I think those rains where for me..They where the cruel signal that I was Ayoyin wasn't wanted anymore for what blood was worth.I was crying in that rain, and the people who walked by didn't notice the plight of the four year old who had lost everything.
I had lost everything to the crime? At that point I didn't know, but my crime had gotten my parents killed, and me homeless. I would have been killed to had not my mother not hidden me up when the men in dark red came.I still remember first time anyone I loved got hurt because of I existed.
"Where is the hybrid, woman?" A man in red had asked her. So harshly had his words come out, and so tediously had my mother replied.
"There is no hybrid my child was slain at birth.." Her voice to me was like a sweet bell of death. It tolled her moments of life one after another.
"Bt it was in your vile womb that the abomination was allowed to fester and grow, was it not?" He was angry, even more then before was he to be worked up so heavily on my birth? My mother remained silent, then.
"Yes.." She whispered softly, and that's when the sound of his rifle's blunt end slapping against my mother's face. The slight moan of agony proceeding before..
"Then you, you filthy wretch are of no cleaner blood, and body then the child you birthed was!" The man in red..I could imagine even as a toddler all to well, as his poised his weapon to my mother's prone form, sneering as he tugged on the trigger sending the ball of iron spiraling into her breast, only to let loose short lived crimson." Filthy wretch." He snorted, before the heavy heel of his boot turned sharply to walk out of my with the several men to come with him to destroy us.
After they had left I found myself soon able to run from my hiding place, only to see what no small child should ever have to lay eyes was dead, with a bloodied chest, and her blood was soaking the hard wood of out home. No house this wasn't my home anymore, and I didn't want it to a four year old.A child doesn't understand it enough to just go when his heart tells him to. No, I was confused with my mentally inflicted wound.A pain that just made myself at that young age fall to the floor, weeping over her still warm was there I lay until my mind caught up with me hours later.
"I have to go away Mommy.." The voice used was weak." um.." I stood, my legs if I can recall had been shaking so bad I wanted to collapse onto the floor.I wanted to I didn't understand that feeling. So that would lead me back to the streets where I sat down on heavily soaked pavement. Just leaving her in a way feels that is the kind of person I am I guess.I leave the dead so that I don't have to deal with them being dead.
My childish self tugged is knees to his chest placing a reddening nose deep within the crevice from one leg to the next. While I sat there people would give me dirty looks as they passed, looks filled with hatred, and the thought that a Thilacine hybrid such as I was vilely vile...I would receive gentle greetings such as, damned mutt, or Zeni Ka! What in all Dameh's name is this bag of dirt? These where simple greetings what hurt was when they looked at me.. I could take verbal abuse I had before. My Mother used to occasionally call me these loved me I'm sure but who wouldn't get mad at me? I was dirt to these people..and I didn't know there was one thing that caught my attention a man that said something that actually caught my attention. He was tall, with long scraggily black hair reaching far past his waist. The thin man was dressed in a dark red Tank top, under worn brown leather jacket, embroidered with the national symbol of Nicaranma. Pale flesh covered his face and body, pasty with the lack of sun light I guess he chose to experience. Dark circles rimmed, red stained eyes that bored down upon my "Wicked" form, and it was soon after my childish overview that he began to speak opening up pale pink lips, and showing off horribly yellowed teeth.
"For th' love o' Dahmeh, what'er you doin' on the streets kid?" Childish eyes looked up peering at a tall dark man, with storm colored strands of almost black hair falling scraggly along broad, but thin shoulders. Eyes of a deep saturated red gleamed within his sockets, showing off some intent unknown to me. His presence made me feels cold, and yet I knew this man held one future in his I must have known or I'd never have done what I did.
"I dunno'"
"Whaddaya' mean I dun' know!?" He asked slipping a thin, pale boney hand deep into the pocket of sturdy leather pants slipping out a worn cardboard package. "A hybrid not doin' somthins' quite the dangerous occupation." Slipping out a smooth paper cylinder the man slipped the object into slightly opened jaws, soon lighting it with a cylinder burned with smoke making the air harder to breath, even with all the smoke, and humidity already there.
"Am I 'spose to be doing something?..." My voice as I used it was sobbing mess, the images of my dead, and bleeding mother where still fresh in my mind, having it only happen but a few hours before hand. The man looked at me, I couldn't tell if he was disgusted or not, so I bowed my head not wanting to look into those unforgiving eyes of his. I thought he'd just walk away, but instead he just kept smoking on his cylinder, and speaking as if I didn't really disgust him at all.
"Y'need a job hybrid?"
"I guess so...If I'm 'spose to have one." Dirtied right hand rose up swiftly to wipe at my reddening nose, the tears where undetectable in the rain.. I was beginning to wonder how the man was still blowing smoke in the rain, and then I looked up seeing the opposite hand handling the smoking paper was shielding the cylinder from all wetness.
"Hybrids work, way it is' bout here in Nicaranama." He snorted. "So lemme' see about finding a little hybrid gal a job."
"But I'm not a- "I began to protest.
"Firs lessin' ymight wanna pick up on, is that kindness oft' knows what it's doin." He grabbed my hand that was still suspended in the air from rubbing my nose yanking me off the found. I recall his grip being heavy, but somewhat frail at the same time. "'cause for a hybrid like y'self 'der won't be much kindness in Nicaranama." With little desire to, but enough to move I followed the dark man off to my new Hell..But then again life was never so sweet.