A World Fallen

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A World Fallen Page 29

by Carter, Nicholas Lawrence


  “It really is!” her partner croons.

  “Doctor Petrosyan?” says Zee, “Can we stop for a second, please?”

  The doctor nods, halting their travel. Zee motions to The Family, gathering them close together. She links her arm behind Hawaii’s back, and her other behind Rad’s. The rest of them follow suit, all embracing each other in their small circle.

  “This is a new beginning for us, a chance at a real life. I’m so glad I know all of you, and that we’re all here together. I wish Outlaw could be here with us.”

  “Me too, he would’ve loved seeing this place.” Sweetie replies.

  Rosaline softly kisses her companion’s cheek, then leans her head against her shoulder.

  “Damn right he would’ve.” the big framed Rad inserts.

  “Then we don’t waste it, right? We do the best we can, and we help grow this place as much as we can.” Hawaii says.

  Rad’s head bobs in full agreement, “That’s what he would want us to do.”

  Rosaline leans upright once more, glances down to her son, shows a smile, then looks back to the group.

  “Then let’s live the best life that we can, for us, for him. He lost his life so that we could be here, and now we live on to honor him.”

  “Thank you nena. I’m still sad, I know I will be for a while, but I’m grateful we’re all here.”

  The family share gestures and short words of agreeance. Sweetie’s eyes catches Zee's, a gentle flame of compassion holding in the natural caregiver. Zee glances around to her chosen family, her face wet, her cheeks flushed. She exhales deeply, then softly speaks once more.

  "Fireflies in the darkness

  Gazes falling upon stars

  Dreams dreamt by dreamers

  Hearts sparking flight

  Restless whimsical wanderers

  Bound by purpose

  Fated in plight

  Oh, joyful tears

  Oh, silent nights

  Oh, lost stragglers

  Oh, searchers of light

  Oh, home free souls

  Oh, innocence stolen

  Journeys are meant to end

  Rest your weary heads

  Dry your glistened cheeks

  Feel the wash of calm

  Bask in the coming peace"

  Doctor Petrosyan smiles to her daughter. KP returns her show of affection, a pleasant gleam resting in her gaze. After another long moment The Family break their crude circle and turn back to the doctor and the Guide.

  “That was lovely Zee.” the doctor says, “Was that your own?”

  “Yeah, I don't know how to explain it, words just come to me in a unique way.”

  “It's a gift dear, and one I think you should share with everyone.”

  The young caregiver beams from the compliment. The doctor motions for them to continue, and The Family rejoin her. They venture on into the city once again.

  “We operate under a government council that works in conjunction with our military efforts for defense and rescue, that includes the Guide Program. No President or single leader as with days past, a true democracy in which the public vote on every issue.” Doctor Petrosyan says.

  “A couple decades ago Daisy Quinn proposed the council, and she resided on the first iteration of it. Another Doctor, Norman Blake, was part of that first group as well. He was a surgeon and helped re-envision our medical program. He saved a lot of lives. His husband, Jack, was the man whose blood was used to create the vaccine. Sadly, he was never able to see Oasis. He was naturally immune, we still don’t know exactly why he was, and we’ve never come across anyone else that is.”

  As they pass building after building the doctor continues recounting the import aspects about the history of Oasis. A short time of traveling later they come upon the central hospital. Rosaline gestures to the life size statue of a man placed directly in front of the hospital. It's location leading one to believe the structure should be the first thing noticed upon arriving to the medical facility.

  “What’s that?”

  KP and her mother direct their attention to the statue, staring at it fondly for a long moment. The doctor tilts her head, then regards Rosaline.

  “That’s the statue of our first Guide, Karo Petrosyan. He was my husband,” -she places her hand on KP's arm- “and Kara's father. He was a complicated person. He made mistakes and errors of judgment. He committed a crime, and was exiled for it. He spent his remaining days trying to atone for it. He provided Jack's blood samples that we used to create the vaccine, and he was the inspiration to our Guides program. I loved him, still love him, but he wasn’t perfect. Far from it. I think it’s important to remember people for all that they were.”

  KP moves to the statue, gazing at it affectionately.

  “I never knew him, he was exiled before I was born. He delivered some people here who proved to be pretty instrumental to our way of life now, such as Daisy Quinn and Dr. Norman Blake. The plaque on the bottom of the statue has their names etched into it as well.”

  She kisses her fingers then touches the statue. The Guide pivots back to the new comers. Doctor Petrosyan places her hand on her daughter’s arm, smiling softly to her once more, then directs her attention back to The Family.

  “Let’s get you all vaccinated.”

  Afterword

  Visit my website: NLCARTERWRITES.COM

  Thank you for reading my book! It would mean the world to me if you would review this book. I read each and every review and take every bit of feedback, in all forms, to heart. I want to be the best writer that I can, and your opinion is valuable in helping me to achieve that! This book is actually my second completed novel, but the first I have published. I spent six years writing my first novel. It's a labor of love, and it's still not quite where I want it to be—despite me labeling it as finished. The experience of writing that first book helped me tremendously to write this one. I'm so glad that you felt compelled enough to read my story and make it this far!

  I took a long, and often unhealthy, route to get to where I am today. I've always written throughout my life, but I wasn't always aware that writing novels is what I should be focusing all of my energy on. I've dabbled in many creative avenues from music, to TV, to short films, to digital videos, to podcasting, to poetry, to writing a column, and probably a few others.

  I've had bouts of drug abuse and alcoholism over the course of my life. I'm sober now and have been for some time. If that seems like an odd statement to throw out of nowhere, don't worry it kind of is. Sobriety tends to make one more open and honest, from my personal experience.

  When I was a younger, I enjoyed making lists of my favorite things, I enjoyed organizing creatively, and I enjoyed the rush of reading over something I'd created. Looking back on it now it's always been obvious that writing is what I should be doing, but I'm stubborn and tended to make unwise decisions more often than wise ones. So, it was then that I didn't truly realize this is what I should be doing until I was almost thirty, and even then I didn't take it as seriously as I should have at first.

  Before I fully set my mind to writing novels, I worked in the restaurant industry, and climbed the ladder up to a General Manager position. I had a full career set before me, but I wasn't happy. I've always had anxiety, but I think the high stress of that kind of job coupled with being in a near constant state of unhappiness lead to my developing Generalized Anxiety Disorder. It's not pleasant, and at times it completely ruins my day, but I try to remember that everyone has issues to deal with. This is just one of mine, and I'll make it through.

  I quit my career as a manager and decided to dedicate the majority of my time to creative avenues. Back in that time I was creating a web series, which ended up failing. After that I started a podcast with a friend that picked up a little traction. We were able to turn that into a TV show on the local station. During this time I was also writing my first novel.

  While I was exploring these avenues I worked part time jobs to keep the bills pai
d. It was during this time that my mom passed away. She and I were very close. She was my best friend, my hero, and my role model. The loss of her hurt me deeply, and if I'm being entirely honest it's still difficult to talk about to this day. Her passing left a lasting impact on me. Not only did it remind me that life is short, and nothing is guaranteed, but it also made me realize how much time I had wasted. I just kept thinking that if I continued to not give myself fully over to what has been pulling at the back of mind that I was failing her. She gave me life and along with it the opportunity to do something meaningful with that life.

  My mom was a very independent person. She was strong-willed, bold, brave, caring, nurturing, supportive, and understanding. I know she would be proud of me for anything that I accomplished in life, no matter how big or small, but I felt the need to excel. I have been given breathe and cognizance. Why aren't I fully utilizing this gift that is life? So, I hunkered down and I did that. With actual real purpose and drive, something I had always found myself to be lacking.

  It's not been easy to dedicate time to writing. There are days when I do not want to do it all. There are times that I spend twenty minutes writing. I don't really think that matters. I think what does matter is that you have a conversation with yourself and realize that you will get out what you put in. Not everyone has the time to write for six hours a day, or the wiring to operate in that manner. What matters is that you dedicate yourself in full in the ways that you are able to.

  For me, I do writing related activities at least five days a week. Generally, I take the weekends off to rest and reset myself mentally. There are times when I work six or seven days a week on a project, but usually it is five. Whether that is conceptualizing the project, outlining, researching, writing the book or short story, editing, or an aspect of the publishing process. I dedicate however much time is needed, or work until I feel satisfied with the progress of that day.

  I don't set a certain amount of time to spend working on writing or the process of creating a novel. When I am in the writing stage, I do set a daily goal of at least one thousand words a day. My average is around fifteen hundred, and it's not uncommon for me to write more than two thousand. There are times when I write less than a thousand, and I think it's important not to beat yourself up if you don't meet your daily goal at times. Things happen, that's life. What's important is that you stay focused and dedicated. Time off isn't a bad thing. If you feel burned out and think that a week off will help you, then by all means take that week off.

  For me, the most important thing to remember has been that everyone finds their own way. There is no proper path set up for any of us. We do what we can. We just have to make sure that includes doing all that we can. This turned out longer that I had initially planned, but I feel like I needed to say all of this. Maybe it will help someone. Again, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading my story. I put a lot of myself into this book, and I love it to the fullest. The story is not over Rosaline and her new family. They will return again. Thank you!

 

 

 


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