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Forgotten Names of Despair I - When Hope is not Lost...

Hello, everyone, this is George, aka Crimson Frankie. I've promised a couple of members the creation of a graphic/written blog segment featuring a random individual of the wastes in a very short story every now and then. The time has come. I had some fragmented stories written in Portuguese for the Fallout Universe (writing is one of my favourite hobbies), so I decided to give it a try. The result is what you're going to see in the following lines. Forgotten Names of Despair is a series intended to portray the vicissitudes of a life in the Wasteland through, as aforementioned, showing crude stories of wastelanders that are simply trying to find a place where they can lay low; stories which are accompanied by drawings and/or paintings by myself. I hope you enjoy, and forgive me for the occasional mistakes in English (I'm not a native speaker).

When Hope is not Lost

When all hope is not lost

Dwight has wandered enough, and "enough" is a constant word in his life. Enough pain, enough hunger, enough grief, enough straying. However, he has apparently found a reason to put a grin on his face. Hope is not lost, after all. A gleam of beauty has given his life a reason to fight. The following lines represent poor Dwight's thoughts as he walks back to his "gleam of beauty" through the ugly and rotten desert of Modoc vicinities.

Still looking for a way back. I've gotta find the trail that led to the old gas station; it was 'round here somewhere. The gas station... where I left her. If push comes to shove, I can look for a higher ground to see better the area around, 'cause all these tall rocks and ruins are screwing my orientation.
All I found is a can of baked beans and pickled fish. Not the best food, and not much, but in this situation, I'd say she's gonna be glad to eat something after days of deep hunger, poor creature. Can't say the same for water, though. All this drought and heat have ravaged my hopes of even getting a drop of water from those freaks in Modoc; they have little water for their self-sufficiency itself, let alone for handouts. I myself am dying to drink something - or eat -, and I can't really feel my fingers or my lips because of the deprivation. But the stomach and the head keep reminding me of what starvation means. However, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the lil' girl, so I'm fighting temptation and saving this food for her. She just lost her older sis, y'know.
But where's that goddamn' gas station, for fuck's sake?! I remember following this blood trail here; but, heh, in this world, blood trails cross paths way too often... ah, I just gotta find the gas station.
Oh, I think I see the old tower with the local radio sign (or what's left of it)! I remember the gas station was somewhat close to it. Yes! I can see the billboard with that weird Poseidon ad on it! That's where the gas station is! At last! Thank God! Now lemme hurry, 'cause an empty belly can't wait, especially if it's a six-year-old one with no idea of how ruthless and vile this world is.
Okay, I can see the creepy abandoned houses around the station, despite the sandstorm. I wonder if someone still lives in them houses... If so, it was kinda fucked up of me to leave her there just standing by while I went out for hours to scavenge. Only to find this shitty rotten food. But she'll be fine, and hopefully, she'll like it.
Alright, sweetheart, here I am... what's with the smell? I didn't leave the door open. Hm, perhaps she's just being a kid (like all of'em, always sniffing around dangerously). What? The smell's getting stronger. Oh, God, it stinks in here! Can't see shit either. Where's my flashlight? I hope the batteries are still kicking. Yeah, they are!
Why is everything scattered around like this? Looks like she's been raisin' hell since I left. Kids. But where the fuck is she?
Oh, no... God, no, please. No, not this... What's this??? What have they done? Who did this? Look at her little face! Oh, Jesus...

Dwight focused his flashlight on a small dead body lying on the floor; a small body violated by the outside world, by the unrelenting power of lawlessness. The inert child seemed like an old temple invaded by a sudden storm. Her mind certainly - and sadly - had taken the word pity for granted. Dwight choked.

What's that between her legs? Oh, God, have mercy! I think I'm gonna throw up... Can't be possible! I left her hidden here! Disgusting fucking cunts! She was just a baby... like a painting, a piece of art, a little peaceful break from all this filth. God, no, please. Tell me this is just a nightmare, like all the rest...

There must still be a bullet in this ol' rusty rifle. Yes, there is. Can't stand all this any longer...

And the hot stench of death was the last memory Dwight had of the wasteland. The exhausted drifter died watching the death of beauty and hope.