Read Online The Prophet's Daughter by Kilayla Pilon - Free Book Online
Authors: Kilayla Pilon
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being yelled at for being out after dark, isn’t it?”
“What’s, uh, what’s a movie?” Isaac questioned, chewing on his lip. We seemed to share the very same habit when we were embarrassed or nervous or experiencing any feeling. I did it all the time; I hadn’t noticed it with him before.
“It was this thing,” I paused, wringing my fingers together as I scoured my memories, trying to remember what a movie was. “A bunch of people would get around and play different characters and tell stories that way, and then it would be shown to people on a big screen that they had to pay to look at,” I answered, hoping I hadn’t given him the wrong information.
“That sounds amazing,” he said, a look of awe playing its way onto his face. “It was a whole different world back then.”
“I like to think that someday the world will be like that again.” I stretched my arms, crossing my legs as I moved my foot to scratch my ankle and glanced at Isaac. “It makes it easier to keep going, like there is a point to living like this, you know?”
“Yeah,” whispered Isaac, turning his head away from me, gaze towards the cart. He looked down at his hand, twirling whatever he had pulled out of his pocket in his fingers.
“Isaac?” I started, my gaze shifting to my feet as I spoke. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t ask, but I just wanted to know… what happened to your Mum?” I shifted, sitting up and looking across at him as he moved to face me, his hand clenching into a fist and his body tensing to the point where his shoulders seemed to rise a few inches. We stared at each other for a long moment, the only sound our breathing and the crackle of the burning fire before he relaxed and lowered his shoulders, unclenching his fist.
“She died when I was a kid, she got sick; Dad never said what it was, but I’m pretty sure she caught the thing that killed us all.” He paus ed, clearing his throat. “I didn’t really know her, I was four or so when she died, but my father loved her.” He sighed and gave a little shrug, setting his hands down on his legs. “Dad misses her a lot, though.”
“Do you know what the disease was? Or what the symptoms were? My parents didn’t talk about it,” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck. It was nice to be having a conversation like this – to speak with someone who wasn’t old and trying to hide the past from me. It wasn’t a very cheery topic, but we had to learn – and if we had to do it by sharing what little we knew? That was that.
“Yeah, it was… It was strange, to say the least,” He snorted. “A lot of people got sick really fast, within days it killed a lot of people. Dad told me that people went ins ane when they got it, attacked people – my Aunt attacked her own children, from what he said - and those who they didn’t kill wound up sick like them. It’s weird, you know?” He moved his arms, gesturing towards the ground. “We're left with decay and remnants of a time that's long died because of some weird disease that spread faster than...” He paused, blinking as a blank look crossed his face. “I don’t know anything that spreads fast.” Isaac’s voice was soft as he spoke, as if he was speaking to himself rather than filling me on what my parents had never really wanted to explain.
“Are there any other people who are sick?” I persisted. I needed to know more, I had to know what had happened; I wanted to know why we were stuck in a living hell.
“Yeah, sometimes we do run into someone who caught it somehow, but it’s not like it used to be – it’s not so easy to find and infect people or to catch it. Dad says it happened everywhere, too. The America’s, Europe, Asia, it was just everywhere. He thought it was a nightmare when he first heard about it, I don’t blame him – the way he talks about his childhood and his old friends…He said in the first week, one billion people died alone, and the few years after too everyone just
“What’s, uh, what’s a movie?” Isaac questioned, chewing on his lip. We seemed to share the very same habit when we were embarrassed or nervous or experiencing any feeling. I did it all the time; I hadn’t noticed it with him before.
“It was this thing,” I paused, wringing my fingers together as I scoured my memories, trying to remember what a movie was. “A bunch of people would get around and play different characters and tell stories that way, and then it would be shown to people on a big screen that they had to pay to look at,” I answered, hoping I hadn’t given him the wrong information.
“That sounds amazing,” he said, a look of awe playing its way onto his face. “It was a whole different world back then.”
“I like to think that someday the world will be like that again.” I stretched my arms, crossing my legs as I moved my foot to scratch my ankle and glanced at Isaac. “It makes it easier to keep going, like there is a point to living like this, you know?”
“Yeah,” whispered Isaac, turning his head away from me, gaze towards the cart. He looked down at his hand, twirling whatever he had pulled out of his pocket in his fingers.
“Isaac?” I started, my gaze shifting to my feet as I spoke. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t ask, but I just wanted to know… what happened to your Mum?” I shifted, sitting up and looking across at him as he moved to face me, his hand clenching into a fist and his body tensing to the point where his shoulders seemed to rise a few inches. We stared at each other for a long moment, the only sound our breathing and the crackle of the burning fire before he relaxed and lowered his shoulders, unclenching his fist.
“She died when I was a kid, she got sick; Dad never said what it was, but I’m pretty sure she caught the thing that killed us all.” He paus ed, clearing his throat. “I didn’t really know her, I was four or so when she died, but my father loved her.” He sighed and gave a little shrug, setting his hands down on his legs. “Dad misses her a lot, though.”
“Do you know what the disease was? Or what the symptoms were? My parents didn’t talk about it,” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck. It was nice to be having a conversation like this – to speak with someone who wasn’t old and trying to hide the past from me. It wasn’t a very cheery topic, but we had to learn – and if we had to do it by sharing what little we knew? That was that.
“Yeah, it was… It was strange, to say the least,” He snorted. “A lot of people got sick really fast, within days it killed a lot of people. Dad told me that people went ins ane when they got it, attacked people – my Aunt attacked her own children, from what he said - and those who they didn’t kill wound up sick like them. It’s weird, you know?” He moved his arms, gesturing towards the ground. “We're left with decay and remnants of a time that's long died because of some weird disease that spread faster than...” He paused, blinking as a blank look crossed his face. “I don’t know anything that spreads fast.” Isaac’s voice was soft as he spoke, as if he was speaking to himself rather than filling me on what my parents had never really wanted to explain.
“Are there any other people who are sick?” I persisted. I needed to know more, I had to know what had happened; I wanted to know why we were stuck in a living hell.
“Yeah, sometimes we do run into someone who caught it somehow, but it’s not like it used to be – it’s not so easy to find and infect people or to catch it. Dad says it happened everywhere, too. The America’s, Europe, Asia, it was just everywhere. He thought it was a nightmare when he first heard about it, I don’t blame him – the way he talks about his childhood and his old friends…He said in the first week, one billion people died alone, and the few years after too everyone just
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