Limbus
By:  atrie

1: City of dust




The first thing I had noticed when I awoke was, well, the fact that I had awoken in the first place. To my knowledge, my last memory was drowning under the river, and I was certain no one had pulled me out.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying on my back underneath an eroded stone bridge. I was confused, obviously, as I had no idea what was going on.

I got to my feet, brushing the dirt off my clothes. It was somewhat difficult, as my legs felt like they were ready to collapse under me. I couldn't really see much from where I was, as my view was being blocked by the hills beside me. As I began to climb up the hill, I noticed my wrists. They were red and swollen from where the rope had been digging into them. I prodded them gingerly with a finger, and was given a jolt of pain in return.

As I looked at my wrists, my attention was brought to the rope. What happened to it? Why were my hands untied? I looked back at the spot where I had awoken. There it was, lying beside where I had lain. I bent down and examined it, my brow furrowed. The rope, it seemed, was cut clean off my wrists. The rope was not frayed at the ends, much like it would have been had they been cut on a stone or another blunt object. I was already over brimming with questions, and this was just adding fuel to the fire.

I left the rope where it was, as it was useless to me. The cord was too short for any fathomable uses that I could think of. I climbed the small slope, coughing as the dust I had kicked up traveled into my lungs.

I leaned on the bridge, examining the landscape that I had found myself in. On first glance, I picked out no discernible features, just a flat... well, nothing. The land that lay before me can only best be described as, well, dead. There was no grass, only a dirt-like dust, which blanketed the earth in a brown sheen. Even the sky was tinted with the same dull color, the clouds obscuring any view of the sun. I stared aghast, The bleak terrain making me feel utterly alone.

Needless to say, I was given an eye opener when I turned around. What I saw before me was the most bizarre sight I had ever seen. There, sprawled out as plain as day, was what appeared to be a small city. But there was nothing else to be seen in any direction. Just that one forlorn looking ruin, in the middle of a solemn waste.

From what I could tell from my view, It would take a bit of time to reach it. The buildings appeared to be crumbling apart. How long had this place been here, I wondered. It seemed that time had most certainly claimed its toll.

I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to make of all this. As of right now, I had absolutely no idea what was going on at all. Hadn't I died? Was this the afterlife? It most certainly didn't look like anything I had heard of. But then again, one couldn't truly know until he had died, right? All I was certain of was that I had to go to that city. I had no idea what to expect, but it was clearly the only place I was going to find any answers.

So I set off, slowly trudging across the flat land, that city looming menacingly in the distance. I began to wonder about what it could hold. Death, it seemed, held many more questions than its counterpart. My main thought, a very recurring one too, was what was this place? I recalled stories of pearly white gates, and the angel Peter who would call out your name, the invitation to the heaven. Or, if it was the alternative, wasn't I supposed to be burning in a pit for all of eternity? Of course, these were only the Christian's interpretations of the afterlife. I never bought in to that crowd, or any religion for that matter. It seemed so fruitless to put my faith into something that for all I knew didn't exist.

My head was hung in thought as I walked. I chewed on my thumb, something I tended to do when I was thinking. I used to be made fun of for chewing my nails, among other things. It's funny how people always seem to hide their own actions by pointing out those of another. Bunch of hypocrites.

I was somewhat perturbed by all of this. I wondered of my family. I may have lived alone, but I still liked to keep in contact. What will they think when I'm reported missing? On second thought, my family never much cared for me. When I was about fourteen, it seemed to me that that my family would rather not have me around. My father threatened me and on occasion, hit me. My mother just flat out ignored me. These thoughts clouded my mind with a heavy haze, bringing forth the overwhelming feeling of desertion. For they had deserted me, as soon as I was finished high school. The day I got my diploma, I found my bags packed and boxes full of my things on the front porch. I stayed with a friend for a while, one of the only friends I had, before I found a place to stay.

The city seemed to be no closer to me than it was ten minutes ago when I started, or at least that's what it felt like. I looked back to get a view of how far I'd gone. I might have been able to make a good guess too, if the bridge hadn't disappeared from sight. But there was no way it could have, It was just flat land! Yet, there was nothing to show there had ever been a bridge in the first place. I continued along, at a faster pace this time.

I chose to not think about anything at all after that last thought. I have a special hatred for memories that I would rather forget. But nothing can be done about them, so I find it best to attempt to block them out.



The walk to reach the city was grueling. By the time I had arrived on the outskirts, I felt like I was going to collapse. This bothered me. I was not out of shape, and I've done six hour walks on end before, no sweat. That walk took at least two hours, maybe three. I should have done that with ease, yet now my knees felt about ready to give way.

I plopped down on the ground, churning up a small dust cloud. Looking around at the city, it was clear that this place must have been condemned or something. Every building looked like it was about to collapse on its weathered structure. There was a loud crumbling noise just then, and I looked around to pinpoint the source. I saw a large chunk of a high rise about fifty meters away detach itself from the main building and plummet to the ground. The resulting crash and echo rang in my ears, as well as sent vibrations through my body.

It was depressing to just be in the place, let alone look at it. It was so quiet, so still. The wind did not dare to even blow through here. I could hear nothing. It was like having earplugs in, just a constant mute setting on the world.

My legs felt somewhat better after about five minutes more, so I began moving again, this time at a much slower pace. I wanted to see the sights, after all. I had no idea what direction to go in, as there were many different roads that jutted out into different directions.

All the street signs were rusted over, which bothered me. It made it much more difficult to remember the path I was going to take. I took another look around quickly before settling on the road to my right up ahead.

It was hard to tell what these buildings would have been used for. It seemed as if I had entered the commercial district, If such a place existed here. The buildings in my immediate vicinity were, for the most part, all tall, towering things. I paled in comparison to them. There was not a single building unaffected by the weathering process. Some of the smaller ones had even collapsed on themselves already. It was rather bleak looking at them. The constant shade of brown dulled my senses. I longed for some fresh color, even if I had only been here for a few hours.

I noticed many buildings had open doors. Be that as it may, none of them seemed inviting. All of them were dark on the inside. It was like a veil, hiding the secrets inside from potential prospectors. I could have sworn I saw something move inside of one building, which unnerved me. I was looking for people, true, but this was not how I wanted to do it, by stumbling about in the dark.

I made a turn down another side road, and was marveled by an intriguing site. It appeared that one of the taller buildings had fallen, collapsing directly into the middle of the road. Some of it was sticking out of another building across the way, though how it had not been brought down by the impact baffled me.

I also noted that it had, obviously, fallen to it's side. I thought most buildings, when collapsing, did so unto themselves. Or perhaps it was another force that did so?

I turned down another road, and to my surprise saw what I thought was a person turning into another side road. I put on a burst of speed and bolted down the road, excitement building up in my chest. I wanted some answers, and hopefully I could get some. Perhaps I should call out to him, was my thought. But I was against the notion in an instant. I had no idea what anyone here was like. Even if I was dead, I still held on to my suspicions and fears.

I rushed around the corner, and stopped in my tracks. In front of me was what looked like a market, of sorts. The kinds they would set up in the middle of town with tents and stalls. Except this was just desolate.

The tents were shredded and filthy, hanging limply by the frames that once supported them. The stalls and tables were rotting and broken, and by the looks of the way they were, had been thoroughly searched for items of interest.

I walked around slowly, taking a look at the large market square. It all looked so dead... just like everything else I had seen. I ran my fingers along the nearest stall, which was covered in a layer of dirt and filth. It was pretty thick too, leaving a large clump on my fingertip. I wiped it on my pant leg, continuing around the market. Each stall was empty, each tent ransacked. What had happened here? Or was it always this way?

I heard footfalls behind me. Whipping around, I searched for the source. It seemed to be coming from one of the small buildings outlining the square. Most likely though, the one with the open door. I slowly walked towards it, curious, but very suspicious.

Peering into the doorway, I rubbed my forehead and sighed. There was no light inside. The darkness seemed to envelop the inside, and it seemed to me as if it was slowly creeping past the boundaries of its confined space, covering the ground outside, creeping towards me. I shook my head, and carefully stepped inside.

I trod gingerly along the dirty wood floor of the small house, for all that I knew it was. Already I could see the stairs were impassable; they had collapsed in on themselves. The door on my right was locked, also barring me. I veered to the left, further into the dark. My eyes slowly adjusted, but still I found it too dark to make out anything. There had to be a light source somewhere. The light switch did nothing, as I had feared. Glancing around, I found a window, with the curtains drawn tightly over. I parted them a silently as I could, Rays of light penetrating the dark, illuminating what appeared to be the living room.

There was a moth-eaten couch in the center of the room. It looked like it hadn't been touched in ages. A broken television sat in front of it. The paint was peeling off the walls in chunks; paint chips littered the floor. Another door, presumably locked on the other side of the room. There was a small drawer in the corner. Perhaps it held something of interest?

I tugged on the drawer, which slid open easily. The only thing that lay inside was a card. I picked it up. On the front, it read “To My Dearest Emily” It felt odd, looking at it. It was like it didn't belong here. Nevertheless, I opened it up. As I did, a dried out flower petal fell out, and drifted silently to the floor.

I can't tell you how much I miss you
Or how much you mean to me
I Wish It could have been different
I Wish I had done something!
It haunts me, to think of you now
I am stricken with guilt, It consumes me
It isn't Fair.... It Isn't fair!

Here, it seemed, someone had been crying. I ran my fingers over what once were wet spots. The ink had long since blurred, and was unintelligible. I skipped through to the last few lines, which were still untouched.

I never had a chance to say it
But here I am, writing this
Perhaps I think that you will somehow read it...
Perhaps... I think that you are still listening...
I am sorry, love
But now it is I who must suffer

I didn't quite know what to make of it. Was it some sort of love note? My first impressions from the title gave me the notion, but the content was definitely not so. I couldn't quite place my finger on it. I had no use for it, so I folded it up and placed it back in the drawer.

The rest of the room was rather bare, save for a picture on the wall. It was a boat, caught in the midst of the storm. I thought I even saw the a figure slipping over the railing, but maybe it was just the water. Either way, I felt uneasy looking at it. It was then that I noticed the door that was closed when I first entered. It now was ajar. Had someone been in here with me?

I felt my heart rate rise as I took a step towards the door. I didn't like this at all. I wanted answers from someone, true, but the situation made me nervous.

I gently pushed the door, peering inside. Another dark room, just what I had come to expect. It appeared to me that it was some sort of kitchen. There was a refrigerator in one corner. I cocked an eyebrow, and went to investigate.

Perhaps it had food, or something to drink. I pulled the handle and it swung open with ease, revealing an almost empty fridge. There was not a thing, saved what appeared to be a large bottle of water. It was difficult to tell in the dark. I examined it to verify my assumption. It was still full, too. As I turned around to leave, I found myself face too face with a dark figure, pressing a knife to my ribs. “Don't. Move.,” he growled.

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