Kai Avila - Creative Writing Exercise
Rumon adjusted his holster as he walked through the wet, neon streets of Merdanza. The
rain pitter-pattered on his hybrid metal hat – shaped like a cowboy hat, but those times were far
gone. It was the year 2211. The city of Merdanza was barren, with people and businesses
scattered few and far between. Life used to thrive here, once. Buildings formed a huge labyrinth,
which spanned up hundreds of miles into space, or what was left of it. Humanity went too far,
flew too close to the sun, literally. It was far too late for anything to be reversed.
Being in the neon meant being in a maze. An enormous maze. You could walk in a
straight line for a day and still be on the same street, without seeing a single soul. It feels like
you’re completely alone. But you’re not. There’s always the Ones, lurking around in the dark.
Preying on people, or other shadows. When you got into more dangerous territories, Twos and
Threes were something to be wary of. If you didn’t know where to avoid or where you were at
all, you wouldn’t last a week.
Of course, Rumon knew exactly how to navigate the neon. Not a single One or Two
dared to cross paths with Rumon, the legendary gunslinger–that’s what he liked to think shadows
saw him as, but Rumon was no more than an ordinary shooter. The prosthetics on his right arm
and right leg were what intimidated the shadows. The light-infused arm blinded any shadow
lurker, scaring them off. As well as that, Rumon carried an old revolver in a plain leather holster
in case things got dangerous. Old technology for a time like this. But he liked it that way.
Clattering erupted from an alley nearby.
Cautious, Rumon placed his hand on his revolver, unbuckled the holster, and was ready to
draw his gun in a single breath. He wasn’t scared, as most dangers around here were just
straggling Ones or Twos, and he could take them on easily. Anything stronger than that, and he
might have to bolt. He rotated a button next to his knee, and his leg started to hum.
Rumon began to walk towards the clattering sound, which turned into groaning and
shifting. He stomped through puddles as he approached the sidewalk next to the alley and turned
the corner.
An almost lifeless amalgamation of trash, human, infection, and mold. Like nothing he’d
ever seen.
Whatever happened to this One was terrible, Rumon thought as he observed that thing.
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It rolled over on the ground and flailed its arms as it groaned in pain. It looked miserable.
It couldn’t even stand up on its own. Could you even call this One a One? Poor thing.
“KILL ME!” it hissed. The creature met eyes with Rumon, then retracted – or at least
tried to – after seeing his arm.
He stood over the weak shadow with troubled eyes – leg humming, arm pulsating with
light – and sighed.
There’s nothing I can do.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Rumon took a quick breath.
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