Remnant

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“I hail from Sandess. My planet is up there, amongst the stars.” he said pointing towards the starlit sky.

“We were warriors known for our resolve. Warriors of Doom, they would call us. Our bellows resounded through the entire universe. We were so compelling that every planet in our galaxy envied us.” he felt the wind in his hair grow strong.

“Taken by spite and malice, our neighboring planet Happness invaded us hoping to wipe out our very existence. We defended ourselves with gallons of tear gas, gloom bombs, and Molotov cocktails of hope. Constant battles followed before it led to The Great Depression, a war that ended it all. A war that we ended up winning.” he said as he looked into the oblivion.

“So we thought.” he took a deep breath as if he was choking up on his musing.

“Little did we know, they had planted a Contagion capsule in the middle of the city. A virus that spread like wildfire consuming all life in its wake. Few could make it to the escape pod.”

He then looked at the human.

“I am a remnant of that fire. The fire that decimated my planet.” he paused as he felt something heaving inside.

“When I close my eyes, I can still hear their cries.”

He dug his face into his hands. She moved forward to console him but didn’t stop him from weeping this time.

“I have this constant yearning in my chest to be with my people. But I don’t have a place to go back to. Where there used to be my land, there’s nothing left but cinders.”

She put her hand on his head gently. He looked up at her.

“That’s why we are so different. That’s why I can never be what you want me to be.” he gasped for breath.

“I am not from around here. I have inbred traits, traces that I carry from my own world and they would forever be inside me. You cannot change that. You can’t expect me to forget and move on. Like all the pieces that make me who I am, that chunk will always be there too. It completes me. It is one big part of me.”

Then he suddenly stood up wiping his tears off. Where there were eyes before, eclipsed a rare sense of purpose. A firm determination to accept any sort of judgment, come what may.

“If you don’t get me, you know what to do,” he said as he looked straight at her with his newly found telluric eyes.

The wind had suddenly dropped as if it was waiting, waiting for an answer, waiting for someone to leave.

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