Move - Prologue

         All the malformed bullets were sent to the floor, plinking as they hit. She ran her fingers through the metal pan, looking for any that were still good. Her three children ran to every bullet that was discarded, looking at it with eager eyes. All three of them showed signs of fatigue, as did their mother, Ninon, whose eyes were gaunt and haunting.
         As the front door of the deteriorating shack creaked open, Ninon tossed the metal pan under the worn couch next to her, and gathered the bullets on the floor quickly with her hands.
         Ninon’s husband staggered through the doorway, laying down a heavy burlap sack. “Got lots today,” he said, ignoring his children. “When is dinner going to be ready?”
         “You’re going to have to feed the kids and yourself tonight,” Ninon replied. “I have council later today.”
         Her husband scoffed, then left the shack again. Ninon knew he would stumble home much later, his breath tainted with the smell of alcohol.
         “Children,” Ninon beckoned. “You’ll have to go to the shelter again. Ms. Gliock will help you.”
         “Mommy,” her youngest cried, but Ninon shushed her.
         “I have to leave soon,” she said.
         “Is that man coming to get you again?” her eldest, Sani, asked.
         Ninon stared at him, then asked, “What man?”
         “The short one, he’s nice, I like him. He likes you.”
         Ninon looked at Sani in wonder. How could he know? “You must not tell anyone else about that man, Sani.”
Ninon left her children in the living room and ducked under a hanging and fading red curtain to enter her bedroom. She looked at herself in the crusted over and dusty mirror. Pulling back her curly hair, she wondered what her life could have been like if she had been prettier. Maybe she would have married a nicer man, be better off than a peasant living in the filth district.
         She examined herself more closely. Her eyes were too big for her small face, and her lips seemed to big as well, while her nose was much too small.
         A horn sounded from outside, and Ninon ran to the window. A white, slightly destroyed van was waiting outside for her.
         Reminding her children about the shelter one last time, Ninon ran out the door and into the van. She locked eyes with the driver, who was short, and had long dark hair. Looking at each other lovingly, they leaned towards each other and kissed briefly, before driving off towards council.
         “So why are you going to council?” the man asked.
         “My family needs more food supplies.”
         “You know, if you left Geoff, you and your children could live well off with me.”
         Ninon sighed. “He would kill me before I could ever escape.”
         “He works all day!”
         “His friends don’t.” The conversation ended, and Ninon stared out the window at the destroyed city. She remembered when she was young, a teenager, and this city had been booming with wealth. And now it lay destructed, consumed by war, a gash on the planet’s surface.
         “My cousin works in Brutia, for the emperor,” Ninon said. “I’m also telling them about that. He wants to help.”
         “Really? That’s good. Maybe they’ll listen to you.”
         “You say that as if they won’t.”
         “It is council after all. They don’t believe anything they hear anymore, just their own damned thoughts.”
Ninon stared at him for awhile, then said, “You can be so negative sometimes.”
         “It’s hard to find brightness in anything anymore.”
         They arrived at where council was housed, the old central library of Gutvi. The library was one of the few fortunate buildings to have survived, and it held much knowledge for the council, although most people thought they never put it to use.
         “Pick me up in an hour,” Ninon said as she hopped out of the van.
         “I love you,” the man said, and Ninon could only smile at him as he drove off.
         Running up the steps to the library, Ninon wondered if the place was even open anymore. Just a few years ago, the place was always crawling with peasants begging for food. And now, after the spread of the mysterious disease in the southern part of Gutvi, it was almost always quiet.
         The council was small, with only seventeen people who served as the law-making body of the city of Gutvi’s remains. They were seated at old library tables in the best chairs they could find, and wore white, the sign of cleanliness.
         Ninon was able to approach the arranged tables of council men almost immediately, after hearing about people complaining of unfiltered water and power outages.
         “Ninon Dekins!”
         Ninon stepped forward as her name was called. “I’m here for food supplies,” she began.
         “So is everyone else!” the Chief of council called out.
         “I have information that could help Gutvi, and Foreseh too, however, and I’m willing to trade it for food.”
         The Chief scrutinized Ninon. “Information... on what?”
         “My cousin is a close advisor to the Emperor in Brutia. He says he may be able to at least get the Emperor to acknowledge Foreseh as a realm again. That way we could get funding from the government to rebuild.”
         The council stared at her, until one woman laughed at her. “You’re hilarious, you know that? Why do you even think we want to be part of that government again? They did nothing but demean us. And now here you say we should rejoin them. After what they did to us!”
         “It’s the only logical way to rebuild! We simply don’t have the tools and resources to do it on our own!”
         “Poppycock!” the Chief yelled out. “First, what makes you think you have the wisdom to say this to us? And secondly, your story is a fabrication. I swear, all you peasants must do all day is sit around thinking up stories on how to get more food. It’s sad, almost.”
         “I can call him!” Ninon declared. “I’m not crazy! I want to help Foreseh!”
         “You want to help yourself,” the Chief said as if he were talking to a child. “Next, please!”
         Ninon stood stock still, before turning and running out of the library, down the old concrete steps. She fell at the bottom and wept. Maybe her lover was right. She should try to escape with him. And now, the more she thought about, she began seriously considering it.
         But he would not be here for almost another hour. Knowing exposed weakness was something to avoid in the dregs of society, Ninon composed herself and headed eastbound down the old road, hoping that she could find something in the dilapidated buildings that few dared to enter. Something she could sell for money or food. Finding a good one on the corner, the old bookstore she used to shop at as a child, she entered under the collapsing roof.
         After around fifteen minutes, she realized there was little left to be wanted. Farther down the road she could see an old mansion, one that was boarded up from top to bottom, but otherwise looked to be in good shape.
         Approaching the mansion, she hurled herself over the chainlink fence, accidentally hitting herself in the stomach on the way up. She held herself for a moment, then neared the front door. Grabbing the rotting wooden boards, she pried them loose, and stepped inside.
         It was almost impossible for Ninon not to imagine what the mansion had been like ten years before. The barely hanging chandelier above her had once been gorgeous, glowing bright on even the darkest night. The marble floors, although caked in vines now, made Ninon think of what people walked on these floors.
         She darted to the marble staircase, avoiding the obvious rooms, and made for the upper rooms. The first one was empty, while the second room upstairs contained nothing but bookshelves, and many of them. Ninon walked inside, always one to be entranced by a good book.
         While many of the shelves were empty, Ninon picked up one burgundy book with a leather binding. She opened it, and the ink filled pages amazed her. It was someone’s diary, and maybe most likely it belonged to the person who lived here. Although it covered much of his life (she was certain it was a he who had written it), she found much on the war inside.
         Many pages were filled with ‘to hell with Brutia’ and ‘damn the Emperor!’. The man who wrote this had chronicled his whole experience throughout the war. Flipping to the last page written on page, Ninon began to read:

         They are gone now.
         The earth burns below me, it's foul stench creeping to the atmosphere, clouding the air all around. The once green plains glow red, giving the planet an air of hostility. The war destroyed everything, it seems, and as I look behind me I can see ruins of my home. Humans think they learn. They don't. They simply augment their thinking and believe they have gained something valuable, when all they really do is destroy something in a different way.
         I step forward, peering over the hill, feeling my breath come in gasps. I cover my mouth with my bandana, making myself look more like a rebel. I already feel like one.
         A whirring noise amplifies behind me, and a copter flies above, it's black body marred by war.
         I already know it won't stop for me.
         I walk away from the ruined city behind me, knowing there isn't anything left of value there. To the east are friendlier people, ones who didn't claim war against my homeland. I'll head to Potters, I decide, and find some real worth there. To hell with all the other realms. Foreseh meant nothing to them, and now they mean nothing to me either.
         I can accept that Foreseh is destroyed, what I cannot accept is that everyone stood by and watched us be consumed. It disgusts me. If only Soamblite hadn't been found, maybe we wouldn't have been put in this position. We would not have placed a threat. Foreseh was nothing but friendly to Brutia, and they tore us apart like a pack of savage dogs unleashed upon meat.
         I would like to see Brutia years from now, yearning for Foreseh built cars, and never getting them. It's their own damn fault, so they should blame themselves. They came here to escape war, but they start them. Don't they realize what they've become? I highly doubt they do!
         I will try to persevere. I promise myself that. I've learned from this, and I've learned from strangers who taught me anything is possible. Maybe they can tell my story for me, if I never see my future. I doubt I will.
         Maybe they'll learn from this like I did. Maybe Brutia will stop it's aggression. The world isn't supposed to be like this!
         Maybe after this, the planet will find peace.
         Maybe all war will stop.
         Maybe the wrongs will be righted in the end. But then again, I doubt anything.

         Ninon left the mansion. She knew she had found what she needed.