Kristine said 9 years, 12 months ago:

okay so I’m working on a story and I need help with it, pm me after reading this if you want to help

The sun had just dipped over the jagged mountains of Kilimanjaro, filtering a dark dusty red sky. Autumn’s breeze rolled in, blowing Lucas’ hair into his eyes. He had always hated it when his hair did that, almost as much as much as he hates Serard, Nani, and pretty much everyone else from the village he lived in when he was child in Benfica. He didn’t fit in, all the other kids, with their dark fingers and bright eyes and full faces. Lucas didn’t belong. The countryside of Tanzania had become Lucas’ home. He did enjoy Tunisia and Serbia but the plains of Africa pleased him more. Lucas had found his favorite spot to rest his head, a Karsata tree. His bony structured laid flat on the Tanzanian soil. Lucas pulled a mango out of his bag, reminiscing the adventure he had the week earlier. He had tagged along with a couple on their search for the Obsidian Acorn, rumored to have been the luck charm of King Musinga when he led his kingdom in the territory of nearby Rwanda. Lucas, like always, had struggled to tell the German couple that he knew the land of Rwanda, Tanzania, and Uganda better than anyone else and he would guide them through the perilous pasture into the remote area in low in the valleys of the dying sun. The inhabitants of the village located at the bottom of the village were well acquainted with the myth of the Obsidian Acorn, along with the story it held. Musinga had found the acorn on a tree in the center of a dried out lake. The acorn had weighed about the same as a newborn sheep. The villagers told Lucas’ companions that the acorn was said to be at the bottom of a waterfall, under the tomb of Musinga’s 3rd wife Lakou. Lucas tried to avoid as much social contact with his followers as possible. 2 nights into the search for the acorn, the two couple attempted to strike up a conversation with Lucas, “Where are you from?” was the first question out of the German lady. She was a tall, big woman, with more meat on her than Lucas did. Lucas stared at her with his asphalt-like eyes, not sure how to respond. Finally after a brief eternity of silence, he replied.” I’m from Benfica.” “Where’s that?” Asked the man of the German couple. “Portugal” responded Lucas. “Oh, I and my husband work for the Hannover institute of Ancient African History.” Said the women in response. “That’s nice” Replied Lucas. The rest of that night had an awkward gravity. Lucas had spent that night in a hallowed out log, while the couple prepared a tent out of clipboards, pencil and an umbrella. The next morning Lucas had woken up with tears still lingering in his eyes. After quickly eating nuts and berries and bark off a Cinder tree, which Lucas had baked himself, the group was off and moving closer to the waterfall marked on their wet damp map which was used as a towel the day before when they bathed in the swamp of Sihon. In 3 hours they had arrived at a cascade of water. On first glance, the river had seemed shallow; no more than 3 feet, but that theory was proven false when Lucas was up to his neck upon springing into the river. The river proceeded to decline into a depth of about 12 large refrigerators stacked upon each other. After 2 hours of searching the riverbed for any sign for an ancient African tomb, Lucas had spotted a large wooden casket of some sort wedged between two stones weighing about twice as much as Lucas. Now the true test, to obtain the Obsidian Acorn, was to be solved. Lucas thought of attempting to smash the casket and retrieve the acorn, but that proved too challenging. Rontgen, the husband of the group, attempted to move the stones, but they clearly had no desire to move. Finally, Louis, Rontgen’s mammoth of a wife, hatched a brilliant plan; Tie Lucas to some ganjo rope and pull him out with the acorn’s case intact. The plan went well until the river-dane crocs arrived. Lucas panicked, not knowing what to do or how to react. He froze in mid-water; his heart sank to his stomach. His solid-state of mind was phased when he felt the rope around his waist pulled. “Get in there!” Yelled Louis, demanding her husband to save Lucas. Rontgen pierced through the water, plunging down to Lucas’ location. He put Lucas back together, dragging him to shore. But the crocodiles continued pursuing the flesh bags. Rontgen and Louis carried Lucas together as they fled the scene of danger, Lucas returned to conscious later that evening, startled by the sound of Rontgen pulling leaves together for protection from the Kaluma Rain. Rontgen had apparently returned to the river and fought off the crocs with his bare hands and knees, and obtained, a Golden Pine Cone. Not what Rontgen was expecting, and definitely not worth bringing back to Germany. The next day the German couple said their farewells to Lucas and gave him a week’s supply of mangos, which Lucas had just finished. Now Lucas was staring off into the star-lit sky. Counting the stars, Lucas felt at ease, feeling welcomed by his surroundings. Lucas then fell into a deep sleep under the shades of the Karsata tree. He woke up to a campfire and an unwelcome guest to his domicile. “Hi, my name is Lucas Nevarra.” Lucas, immediately feeling nervous, began whittling away at a bark of Rowan in his pocket with the rusty knife he had found whilst tunneling the Mayan pyramids with Diego and Johnny, two explorers of ancient Mayan history. “Ah, I see you still whittle away at wood when you’re nervous or anxious.” Said the unknown intruder. “We gave that up about the time we were 22, and that was around the time when trees started to become scarce.” Whatever this man was talking about, it made Lucas more uneasy. Lucas then pulled out a piece of oak wood and began making a duck. “Whittling wood won’t make you feel better. Nothing you do makes life easier. And the more you suppress that fact, the more you’ll get lost in your own self.” Lucas felt like fleeing into the nearest ditch, or tree or lake. He wanted out of the awkward conversation. “Lucas, do you know who I am?” Lucas responded with the shake of his head, his eyelids almost collapsing as Lucas dropped them over his dark irises. “Lucas, do you?” “No!” said Lucas, surprised by the volume of his voice. His voice had never exceeded 12 decibels. Even at birth, and at night, Lucas cried quietly and discreetly. “Then look at me, not through me!” The man stood up. He was about Lucas’ height, a few inches taller, he was pale like Lucas. He was thin and sleek, like a straw. He had eyes dark, and cold like black ice. His hair was dark and straight and drooped over his forehead like a curtain. “I know…” The man was going through his bag, and pulled out a square-photo. He handed it to Lucas. Lucas examined it closely. “Where did you get this?” Lucas liked the sound of his voice as it was carried off his tongue and into the damp atmosphere of the night. The picture was of Lucas and his only friend, his Cousin Thiago. How Thiago and Lucas were different. Thiago was dark and had curly brown hair with bright brown eyes. He had many friends. Yet he valued family over anything else. Thiago always watched over Lucas. If Lucas was ever in need of anything, he went to Thiago, whom had all the answers Lucas would ever need. “You… You’re me.” “And I am you. I am you, 12 years from now. I come from a time changed by man and affected by humanity. I come from a time where time folds at the hands of man, where man’s corrupt thoughts have brought an ever-lasting shadow upon the world.” Lucas was staring hard at himself, or the man. He wasn’t sure what to call it, “How do I know you’re me?” Inquired Lucas. “Well I know your name is Lucas Nevarra, I know you cry yourself to sleep; I know you were awful at sports as a child. But most of all I know your future.” Lucas remained silent. “The future that awaits you won’t be pleasant. Man will rise against man. Father’s will bury their sons before they themselves die. Humanity will be maintained at a population of 500,000,000. War will ravage the land. The ground will become like iron, the sky like bronze. You will be chased; even your shadow will now keep you secured. The earth shall crumble at the toxicity of mankind. But you, you will be saved. Because when you were I and I was someone else, I also received this very same message. Even though I thought the idea of a damned future bogus, that encounter with myself stayed in the back of my mind, until the world slowly consumed itself like a snake betrayed by its mouth.” “Why are you telling me this?” “Because you have an important part to play in the future. Heed my warning; the day is arriving with haste. You won’t be able to change this prophecy, but you will be able to change your outcome. Lucas, go back to Benfica, warn Thiago, he will be your only companion in the trials to come. Lucas, you will have to learn how to cope with your feelings and how to interact with others, or so fall feeble to the pressure of man.” “But why me why can’t Thiago be the one to save me, to help me survive?” “I have said too much, Lucas, I can’t promise you anything but what I’ve told you tonight. But I do know something that will be useful.” “What is it?” Lucas had become unaware that his duck had become a dandelion. “If you are ever in any doubt, now or when the future comes, always look at the stars, for behind them shines an even brighter light that guides you. I will be there too, and so will the answers to the problems you face.” With that, the Post-Lucas dissolved in the campfire, and Lucas’ eyes sucked in the whole event, and he fell into a deep sleep once again. The next morning, Lucas woke up to a full-grown olive tree.