A village, hundreds of people, 623 to be exact.
Beige houses scatter through the area in rows that expand as far as the eye can see, with simple sliding doors, nearby small trees and flowers blooming freely.
But even flowers can turn to ash.
Children, some no older than 2 and some no younger than 16, used to run on the gently paved pathways of soft earth and gravel. Their bodies now littering the fields, the grass dyed crimson.
A cooling rain blows over the village, where one stands tall over another in hills with deep red hues and a chilling breeze over the lands.
Silence, echoing, with only the gentle impact of rain to interrupt the eerie, dreadful chills of a land no longer with the same musical beat of hearts.
Not even a hum from the breeze can be heard, and a feeling of tension, of electricity, is almost tangible.
Like the calm before a storm.
. . .
"You seem to be the only one left alive..." A mysterious figure hummed with an evil glint to their eyes, standing above Jinrui. The figure brandished a katana, stained with blood that had yet to have dried. "You're so... pathetic." The figure said, a disdainful edge to his already cruel tone.
Jinrui, trembled slightly beneath the figure. Jinrui's breath was coming in short and shallow gasps as he held his wounded side quietly, his jaw tightening in pain. His gaze slowly shifted to the side as he tried to get up, but the pain was too much for him to sit up straight, let alone stand.
The figure stood, his expression unreadable due to the shadows from the thunderstorm and clouds above. A glint came from his katana, the moonlight shining onto it. He walked closer to Jinrui, positioning his katana to strike as he closed the gap between the two.
Jinrui remained quiet, his childlike curiosity that used to glimmer within his eyes now having been overshadowed by a powerful terror that grew as the figure neared him. Jinrui scrambled back, but wasn't able to make it far before he felt the cold blade brush the front of his neck.
The figure smirked, knowing Jinrui had no power as a child. "Do you have any last words kid?"
Jinrui didn't respond, he was too consumed by fear to do so. He felt his life flashing by his eyes, he was young, hardly even 7 yet. Jinrui's gaze shakily made it's way up to stare at the figure, his entire body shaking with a mixture of the physical strain and the adrenaline coursing through him.
"What.. happened to them all?" Jinrui muttered weakly.
"To who?" The figure said, no sympathy to his voice as he leant down to look Jinrui in the eyes.
"To.. the people.. who lived here." Jinrui continued, trying to indiscreetly raise his hand to fight back, if only a bit.
The figure's eyes narrowed.
KRRKCHI
...
drip. drip.
Jinrui looked down slowly, noticing the katana had suddenly impaled his neck, the pain was excruciating and yet his vocal cords had been severed, leaving his pain in silence. His vision blurred from the blood loss quickly, but the pain itself was like an iron hot poker had torn into him.
The figure stared silently, his expression cruel and evil, nothing like a stoic face but a face of pure sadistic pleasure at the young boy's imminent death. "Did you think I didn't see your hand move?" The figure chuckled, driving the katana deeper before suddenly tearing it back out.
Jinrui's mouth opened to advocate for himself or say something...
But nothing came out, except blood. Then, everything went dark, and his body slumped to the floor.
...
. . .
Then he shot awake.
Sitting on the same ground, he woke, but now no bloodstains cursed the land. He grabbed for his neck, feeling for the pain or injury he'd felt beforehand as the lines between reality and dream blurred.
Again.
He sighed, softly, trying to soothe his racing heart as he sat up in the dry grass. His mind flickered with the images again, and he quickly looked away from what he'd thought he'd seen.
Jinrui shifted, getting up as the grass shuffled beneath his feet. He stood up, looking down to his hands, only to see the crimson bloodstains.
His eyes widened for a second as he turned around again, trying to figure out what was going on.
Tears brimmed the edges of his eyes as an overwhelming darkness seemed to loom over his mind, confusion consumed his being and all he could do was close his eyes tightly.
He turned away and starting running, but realized that the world around him wasn't moving alongside him.
The grass, no longer shuffled when he walked, and the world, now taking a closer look around, was cast in a monotone color.
Jinrui didn't know what to think, so he covered his eyes, his breathing beginning to speed back up as thousands of violin strings crescendoed in his mind.
Before coming to an uncomfortable halt.
As he felt a hand on his shoulder.
. . .
"…don't move." A voice hummed uncomfortably close to his ear, the uncanny lack of the warmth of breath was more eerie than the fact that, he couldn't move anyways.
His feet felt like they had been nailed to the ground, immovable and petrified in the moment.
After a beat of uncomfortable silence, Jinrui suddenly turned his head backwards, his eyes wide and pupils pinpricks with discomfort and fear.
He couldn't recognize the face behind him.
No.
He couldn't recognize himself.
Bloodstained.
The violins crescendoed again, his breathing sped up as Jinrui fell into another panic, he couldn't comprehend what was real and if this was a dream anymore.
He couldn't even tell if he was lucid.
If it was scripted.
Until it spoke again.
"Who are you?"