Land of Decay

"You're not from around here are you?"

"I'm just a traveller."

"Where you from?"

"..."

"Not a talkative one I see. Well we're not here to talk we're here to drink!"

"..."

"But even so, don't you think you're covered a bit too much? a scarf, a hat and a trench coat. Don't see many people with such tight clothes here in this shabby bar."

"Is there something you want?"

"Woah woah take it easy, take it easy. I'm just making conversation y'know? See I don't have much time left, as you can clearly see, the rot has taken its toll on me. I doubt I have much more than a few weeks, maybe few months to live."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I'm quite lucky, making it past 30 isn't common these days, to have lived to be 34 is already a blessing ay? But still, one can't help but to be a bit greedy. Have you heard of 'The Clean'?"

"..."

"It's a rumor that has spread pretty rapidly lately, it speaks of a certain group of people, people immune to the rot, their bodies crystal clear like...like water in a cup. No decay, no dementia, no feeling like every muscle moved is like having a hot steel rod shoved in your joints. People who are clean. They can live to forties, fifties, even eighties."

"..."

"Rumor says that if you eat the flesh of a clean person you'll become clean too. It is said they're god's last gift to humanity. Hahaha! A ridiculous story isn't it? Youngsters come up with the most ridiculous stories these days."

"..."

"I mean, I've never heard of anyone like that. Nor anyone I know. It is after all only human to rot. If you don't rot are you really even human anymore? If you're a human you rot. That's that. But still, a small part of me, a very very tiny part of me believes it. Wants to believe it."

"..."

"Y'know I wasn't always this pathetic, when I was younger I tried to revolt, break the stagnation of society. I tried to be creative, I tried to be hard working. I worked and worked, my smile never left my face, I cried I wept I bled I got up and I fell down. But for what?"

"..."

"For what? I was just a fish jerking on the sand floor meaninglessly before breathing its last breath. 30 years really is too short for a human to do anything y'know? I think maybe if we didn't know there were people not too long ago who lived till 80's we would've been okay. It would've just been 'the way things have always been', but we do. We do."

"..."

"And now I'm here. Game over. Curtains closing, no one cared for anything I had done, they all just enjoyed what little time they lived. No one cared to innovate, no one cared to improve. There was simply no time."

"..."

"And now what have I left? What is my life but...a pathetic fish jerking on the sand bed. Never achieved a thing, never had fun, had a family, children, love. Only meaningless struggle. And now that's it. I just...go." Tears welled in his eyes and streamed down his face.

"..."

"N-nothing. I am nothing. Never had anything. And now I just...go."

"I'm sorry."

"..."

The traveller threw money on the table for the drinks and left the man weeping on the bar stand while he left the bar.

He strolled through the streets, he tried to ignore it. Ignore that which his sharp hearing shouted at him. He didn't want to believe it. Maybe his hearing was wrong this time, maybe it was a coincidence, maybe just this time. If only this time; it's a coincidence.

Until he walked into an alley. An alley were no sound was heard but his footsteps....and one other.

"You know, I have a picture of one of my ancestors in my house. It's our family heirloom. He lived before the rot, so he was quite old. His eyes, they were the same as yours." The man from the bar said, holding a knife in his hand, the knife shook in his hands.

"Don't."

"You're quite old aren't you? And all those clothes...you're hiding your body. It isn't from the rot, no, everyone has the rot, it's not something to hide. Lack of rot though? Well that would be a bit more worthy."

"..."

"You're one of them aren't you? The clean?"

"..."

"I knew it...you are. Maybe this is my reward from god y'know? Such a freak unlikely encounter. Maybe it's my reward for all the hard work I put into his kingdom."

"Please...don't." He said, with a soft voice.

"I...I can't..." his tears flowed uncontrollably, his whole body shook as if it was about to crumble onto itself. "I had nothing...did nothing...this can't be just it right? I...don't wanna die. Not yet. Not this way."

"Coming at me isn't the way to avoid death."

"I know...look at your build, you could probably beat me in a second...but what am I supposed to do? Huh? What the hell else am I supposed to do?" He cried. "I know it's just a rumor, I know it's probably false...but I just..."

"Please, don't do this."

"You're a good man. I can tell. But....I'm....I'm sorry."

He lunged at the traveller with the knife using all his force. The traveller side stepped it with ease then hit the man on the back of his head causing him to slam into the rock floor. A shriek accompanied the man's every move; his body, dying of rot, ached with every move.

The traveller then pulled out his gun, pointing it at the man's head.

"You can't knock me out. You know that. I'm at too late of a stage, soon I won't even be able to sleep anymore."

"I know..." The traveller responded with a voice of surrender. As if he had always known, as if he had said those words a thousand times before.

"So please...please..." His voice broke from the tears.

"Don't."

"Please just..."

"Don't son, I beg you..."

"...I'm sorry." He pushed against the ground and rapidly lunged towards the traveller. A bang echoed throughout the alley.

He laid there on the ground. Blood slowly seeped out of his skull and flowed unto the ground. His eyes red, wide open. Tears frozen on his face, they were no longer able to flow. A broken body, riddled with decay, not much cleaner than the floor it laid on.

The traveller looked down at the man's mangled head; his hand trembled. The hands then calmed down, the gun went back in its saddle, and the traveller's worn-out shoes continued walking. Ending an innocent man's life was naught but another bad day

It wasn't the first time he felt this grief. Nor will it be the last.

For that is the curse of The Clean.