014 the youth who wanted to learn what fear is. "The Dumpster"
Title: The Dumpster
Author: ginnekomiko
Word Count: 852
Universe the story takes place in: Persona Crisis a world full of humanoid machines and a few humans.
Character(s) Used: Airabi-a handmade persona in the likeness of a teenage girl, Mira-a persona who looks to be about ten.
Rating: PG 13 for character death.
Summary/Prompt: 014 the youth who wanted to learn what fear is. Or, If a Person Kills a Persona, is it still called Murder?
She had wandered too far. Papa always warned her not to go somewhere that was not familiar to her. Now, as Airabi looked around, she could see why. The world was a dark place when it wanted to be. Chain-linked gates blocked all paths around her. Faded signs in red and white letters proclaimed words of warning. Strange crunching sounds were all around her. Her heartbeat quickened. Something was near. Faintly the sound of slushy movements teased at her ears. Was someone playing a game?
Airabi put the flashlight in her mouth and began to climb the fence, curious as to what she might find behind it.
She came to the ground that resembled deflating air. She had landed on something relatively soft. Taking the device out of her mouth, she shined her light forward.
Garbage. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but garbage.
Carefully, Airabi gathered her pale pink skirt in her hands and trudged forward.
That sound again.
“Who are you?” a voice demanded from behind.
Airabi turned sharply. The shape she had illuminated was a little girl with long brown hair. The child was dressed in a long black gown, which at one time, appeared to have been quite nice, was covering her to slightly below her knees.
The skirt of the dress was torn in large segments, as if it had been slashed.
The girl’s exposed feet and legs were covered in discarded remnants. She had large smudges on her cheeks and hands. Her sunken eyes were focused solely on Airabi.
“My name is Airabi Benk,” she began. Papa always said to be nice to those littler than her, so she tried to sound as kind as possible. “What are you doing here, sweetie?”
The girl said nothing. She merely continued to trudge and crunch amongst the grim and broken objects. Airabi followed gingerly behind her. Faintly Airabi thought she saw something inscribed on the back of the girl’s neck.
“Oh! Are you from the WonderChild line?” she asked the question with eager gusto. “Papa always said they were a good make, very much like the real thing.”
The little girl touched her neck in a light, almost loving movement. “Yes that is the name of my manufacturer. Did you come from a company, too?"
“Nope! Poppa made me with his own two hands and a heart full of love! He said I was his own little miracle.” She was not afraid to show she was proud of this fact.
“Good for you,” was the child’s flat response.
“Do you by chance, have a name or a model number?”
“My model number is 5624376, registered name: Mira Von Veldt Age: ten years, growth proceedings on standby.”
“Mira, that’s a cute name! Are you lost, perhaps?”
“I’m not lost. I’m looking for something lost.”
“Did your mommy and daddy throw away a favorite toy without asking? Poppa did that to me once, I cried for days and days! But it turns out he only did it because he bought me a replacement.”
“Not a toy, my sister,” she said the words softly, almost in a whisper.
“Oh. . . she must have been terribly defective.”
Mira’s eyes flashed with acknowledgement. “Mia’s not defective!” she all but screamed. “Those brats murdered her!”
“Murder?” Airabi smiled. “Don’t be silly! Why would the dear children do something like that?”
Mira’s breathing became slightly ragged, as if she had not used the tone in a long time. “They saw the boxes we came out of. To their tiny minds, we could be broken just the same as any of their toys. To them, we weren’t siblings, but playthings.”
“Didn’t your mommy and daddy do anything to stop them?”
“Why would they?” Mira said in a bitter tone. “They had been told that they’d never have any children. That’s why they bought us. Things were fine until those brats were born. Oh sure, they started out innocent enough, but those indulgent lovers let them get away with anything. To them, they could do no wrong. Mia and I were becoming obsolete in light of the tiny living things they themselves had made. After a while, my ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ as you call them, stopped viewing us as children, too.”
An awkward stinking silence filled the air.
“What happened to her?”
“It’s like I said, they murdered her. From what I can tell, they broke her into pieces, put her in a big black bag and tossed her away into this place. I’ve been searching for her ever since then.”
“How long has that been?”
“A long time; this landfill as you can see, is rather large. I still have many piles to dig through. If I cannot find her here, I have no choice but to go to that place.
“What is ‘that’ place?
“Where they dispose of the likes of us. Do you hear that constant crushing sound? It’s like a death song.”
“You mean we don’t get to be buried in the ground and then go to meet the thing called ‘God’ when we die?”
Mira said nothing.
Author: ginnekomiko
Word Count: 852
Universe the story takes place in: Persona Crisis a world full of humanoid machines and a few humans.
Character(s) Used: Airabi-a handmade persona in the likeness of a teenage girl, Mira-a persona who looks to be about ten.
Rating: PG 13 for character death.
Summary/Prompt: 014 the youth who wanted to learn what fear is. Or, If a Person Kills a Persona, is it still called Murder?
She had wandered too far. Papa always warned her not to go somewhere that was not familiar to her. Now, as Airabi looked around, she could see why. The world was a dark place when it wanted to be. Chain-linked gates blocked all paths around her. Faded signs in red and white letters proclaimed words of warning. Strange crunching sounds were all around her. Her heartbeat quickened. Something was near. Faintly the sound of slushy movements teased at her ears. Was someone playing a game?
Airabi put the flashlight in her mouth and began to climb the fence, curious as to what she might find behind it.
She came to the ground that resembled deflating air. She had landed on something relatively soft. Taking the device out of her mouth, she shined her light forward.
Garbage. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but garbage.
Carefully, Airabi gathered her pale pink skirt in her hands and trudged forward.
That sound again.
“Who are you?” a voice demanded from behind.
Airabi turned sharply. The shape she had illuminated was a little girl with long brown hair. The child was dressed in a long black gown, which at one time, appeared to have been quite nice, was covering her to slightly below her knees.
The skirt of the dress was torn in large segments, as if it had been slashed.
The girl’s exposed feet and legs were covered in discarded remnants. She had large smudges on her cheeks and hands. Her sunken eyes were focused solely on Airabi.
“My name is Airabi Benk,” she began. Papa always said to be nice to those littler than her, so she tried to sound as kind as possible. “What are you doing here, sweetie?”
The girl said nothing. She merely continued to trudge and crunch amongst the grim and broken objects. Airabi followed gingerly behind her. Faintly Airabi thought she saw something inscribed on the back of the girl’s neck.
“Oh! Are you from the WonderChild line?” she asked the question with eager gusto. “Papa always said they were a good make, very much like the real thing.”
The little girl touched her neck in a light, almost loving movement. “Yes that is the name of my manufacturer. Did you come from a company, too?"
“Nope! Poppa made me with his own two hands and a heart full of love! He said I was his own little miracle.” She was not afraid to show she was proud of this fact.
“Good for you,” was the child’s flat response.
“Do you by chance, have a name or a model number?”
“My model number is 5624376, registered name: Mira Von Veldt Age: ten years, growth proceedings on standby.”
“Mira, that’s a cute name! Are you lost, perhaps?”
“I’m not lost. I’m looking for something lost.”
“Did your mommy and daddy throw away a favorite toy without asking? Poppa did that to me once, I cried for days and days! But it turns out he only did it because he bought me a replacement.”
“Not a toy, my sister,” she said the words softly, almost in a whisper.
“Oh. . . she must have been terribly defective.”
Mira’s eyes flashed with acknowledgement. “Mia’s not defective!” she all but screamed. “Those brats murdered her!”
“Murder?” Airabi smiled. “Don’t be silly! Why would the dear children do something like that?”
Mira’s breathing became slightly ragged, as if she had not used the tone in a long time. “They saw the boxes we came out of. To their tiny minds, we could be broken just the same as any of their toys. To them, we weren’t siblings, but playthings.”
“Didn’t your mommy and daddy do anything to stop them?”
“Why would they?” Mira said in a bitter tone. “They had been told that they’d never have any children. That’s why they bought us. Things were fine until those brats were born. Oh sure, they started out innocent enough, but those indulgent lovers let them get away with anything. To them, they could do no wrong. Mia and I were becoming obsolete in light of the tiny living things they themselves had made. After a while, my ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ as you call them, stopped viewing us as children, too.”
An awkward stinking silence filled the air.
“What happened to her?”
“It’s like I said, they murdered her. From what I can tell, they broke her into pieces, put her in a big black bag and tossed her away into this place. I’ve been searching for her ever since then.”
“How long has that been?”
“A long time; this landfill as you can see, is rather large. I still have many piles to dig through. If I cannot find her here, I have no choice but to go to that place.
“What is ‘that’ place?
“Where they dispose of the likes of us. Do you hear that constant crushing sound? It’s like a death song.”
“You mean we don’t get to be buried in the ground and then go to meet the thing called ‘God’ when we die?”
Mira said nothing.