Maria

[atypicalorigins]

Title : Maria
Author : AtypicalOrigins
Fandom : Not so much : Original Work
Characters/Relationships : N/A
Rating : T
Warnings : Kind of sort of scary, and a warning for suicidal
ideations
Genre : Post-Apocalyptic Horror-ish. I think? This one's a strange.
Summary : In a world where plants have taken over, and humanity
shelters itself from the devastation, a woman contemplates her job.
Notes : Also, this would be a response to yesterday's daily prompt
from dailyprompt - "The end of an era."

"Maria, Maria! Please, don't go! Oh, my baby, my baby! Please! Don't
take her away!"

Maria swallowed, shouldering the surprisingly quiet child. This was a
horrible job. But, according to the Capitol, extremely necessary for the
children to grow up mentally strong and physically able. Maria hated it
still.

"Maria, please! My baby! Oh, my baby!" The woman shouted her voice
growing faint now as she finally collapsed into gut wrenching tears.

Maria could remember a time when she wouldn't ever do this sort of thing,
let alone seriously consider it as a job. It was a nice time. A time before
the Living. Before the plants ransacked the cities, growing over the
skyscrapers and apartments, shattering glass and crunching metal. They
decimated homes in mere days, leaving only broken heaps clotted by
effervescent green vines and roots, often with bodies scattered throughout
the ruins, people caught unawares, in their sleep or otherwise, vines
stuffed into their airways. Mankind tried to rebuild, painstakingly hacking
away at the verdant walls, but to no avail. They grew back almost faster
than we could chop, leaving us with no option. We had to move into the
wilderness, the mountains, the deserts, the places plants did not grow
easily. Even the ocean was no longer safe, with writhing seaweed easily
wrapping around a boat's motor and punching through the hull to provide a
quick, fearful death for any who dared to cross the open expanses of water.

At first, there had been proclamations, claims of God's Wrath and Eternal
Judgement, death and destruction for all but the most faithful. It quickly
died down when they realized the plants did not care whether or not the
thing they were smothering was human or not, let alone if they were sinful
creatures. Earth became a desolate land, with people living quiet,
meaningless existences in dry and dreary places.

Until the day the Capitol was born. A collection of all the high thinking
individuals left in the land, working together for the well being of
society. For the first few years, everything went well, exactly to plan.
Benign crops were flourishing, domestic animals were booming, our food
sources, for the first time in years, seemed enough to get us through the
winter with ease and comfort. We had free time, and were beginning to bloom
once again. The artists were picking up their pencils, the actors were
clearing their throats, the cloth makers shuttering their linens, the
bakers unleashing their ovens, and the people were gathering into towns and
cities again.

This was our mistake. It seemed as if the Living could see, or perhaps
feel, the humans destroying its habitat. All of the new towns and villages
were quickly dragged down to the ground, littering garbage and bodies in
their quest back to proper, grassy ground.

So, having encountered this mass genocide again, the Capitol was nearly
broken, destroyed by both the loss of members and a lack of proper
leadership. Here was where a promising young leader by the name of Yilmir
arrived. He swore a great many impossible, foolhardy things to us, a life
free from the Living, free from oppression and death and horror and many
other terrible things.

It was nice again for a while, he connected us through mail and
correspondence. We were once again a group, although we could not see each
other without strict permission from the Capitol. Of course that was the
beginning of it all. The Capitol started leaking into every corner of our
lives, taking food, wealth, limiting letters and destroying our
individualities. Our artists and writers and bakers and cloth makers were
removed, their implements broken and forgotten amidst the daily struggle to
eat and thrive.

The Era of the Capitol had begun.

Of course, it was now where Maria came in. She was daughter of a simple
farmer, like nearly everyone else, and was raised to do the only thing
society wanted her to do, agriculture. It was a horrible, grueling job. Her
face which used to be pretty and plump with youth and innocence, grew gaunt
and weathered with age and sun, turning her into an old hag before her
time. She knew how her life would be. She would farm, harvest her hard
earned crops, give everything she made to the Capitol trucks, and every
other day, a different Capitol truck came by to drop off her portion of
food for the next two days. It boring and dreary and terribly sad. But it
helped her survive. And that was all that mattered in the end.

Eventually, the Capitol started taking babies. "For the greater good," they
would say. And people believed them, saw the possibilities in it. Except
the mothers. The mothers hated it. Beyond everything else their horrid
lives held for them, they despised the Capitol for even thinking that was
even beginning to approach acceptable. But the order was carried out, and
every woman of birthing age yet to have children was to report to the
Capitol immediately. Well, not really. They called on them district by
district so as to make sure the Living were not drawn out again.

There, they observed the women, tested them, studied them to see who was
most fit. It was decided that ten would be chosen among the lot. Ten of the
brightest, most logical of the bunch.

Maria was one of the few. Her quick wit and bright brown eyes won her over
amongst the hard, bleak Capitol personages. She went about her job, picking
up whining children and bringing them back to the Capitol for money. She
felt dirty, as if her very self was stained by the greed of the Capitol.
But she did her job, no longer having any sort of choice. Her land was
taken and a new farmer placed, her family spread out to edges of the land,
all contact with others limited to the brief transgressions needed to take
other's children. She was alone, and broken.

And now, we come upon today, the day she had to take a child from one her
few family members. She hated it, but she was the only one left, the other
nine had died 'mysterious deaths,' but Maria knew they had killed
themselves. She was debating that too. But the Capitol kept a close watch
on her, too close to gather the materials she needed.

So, instead, Maria held the still child to herself, keeping her hands on
the neck and legs. She hurt, like always, but the hurt had dulled with age.
She was old now, her skin scrunched around her features like an oversized
sack. Her pain was like a tender spot close to her chest, constantly
throbbing, but easy to ignore. And she walked the child back to her home,
putting it in a casket to be shipped to wherever the children went. Maria
never knew, Maria never asked. She liked to think she was putting them to
sleep, tucking them into the crumpled paper blankets with care and
affection. The babies would smile at her, and Maria would delude herself
into thinking, yes, this is my baby. Isn't she beautiful? She'll grow up to
be so smart, and so strong, she could feel it.

Then Maria went to sleep, knowing she had yet another early morning to get
up for. She dreamt of children and mothers and death and the Living. It was
mostly the usual, her surrounded by the voices of those she affected in her
job, the screams of mothers in pain, the crying from the babies. Then her
still body on her bed was slowly covered by emerald vines as they consumed
her house, her life, her existence. It horrified her every time, and she
got up at the crack of dawn, her wrinkles shining from night sweat and
terrors nearly forgotten in the weak light of morning. She went to check
the cradle, as she always did, to make sure the Capitol had not taken pity
and granted her the child. But the gray sheets were pulled tight around the
bed, folded quite nicely, and the cribs walls were down. The baby had been
taken again. Maria's face folded, but the pain from this had also dulled
from the years. She dragged herself to her kitchen and made herself a
sandwich with fresh bread and stale cheese. Then she headed out, to fetch
another child for the Capitol.

Sometimes, Maria wondered if she would ever just die from the exhaustion of
trekking across mountain ranges. She wondered if she should attempt it.
But, no. The children were needing her. Or, she needed the children.
Sometimes, Maria wondered about that too. She had a lot to ponder on, most
of the time. Other times her mind was stuck in a revolving circle about the
Living. Why? How? Things like that. The Living were a very important
threat. Who knows what they would do to humanity if everyone were in
groups. She also got stuck in circles about the Capitol. How? Why? Those
sort of things.

It was then that she arrived at the house for today. Ah, another family
member. What a shame. Maria had hoped for another stranger, but she had to
do her job.

"Maria, Maria! Please, don't go! Oh, my baby, my baby! Please! Don't
take her away!"

Another woman wailed at her. Maria once again held the child close. She was
hurting again, but it was the usual hurt. No more, no less.

"Maria, please! My baby! Oh, my baby!"

Maria knew only to keep walking. The woman couldn't do much in her state
anyways. Maria would,'t have taken the child if that wasn't so.

Maria headed back home, soothingly patting the baby's quiet back, providing
comfort for the child like always. Maria believed herself to be their last
comfort before they were greeted by the cold dreariness that was the
Capitol.

She tucked the child back into the stiff paper sheets, kissing it's
forehead then leaving for her room. She was so tired today. It was a long
trek from her home to what was the baby's home.

She dreamed again, children, mothers, death, the Living. The usual. Life
was so dreary.

She woke up, went to check on the child, hurt some and made her sandwich.
The same, nothing all that different.

Except Maria noticed something.

Her hands. They were caked in dried, flaking red.

She frowned, and went to the sink, washing off the red.

It didn't work.

After five minutes of scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing, her hands still held
pink.

Maria frowned again, but let it be. She would get the rest off when she got
home this evening.

But when Maria stepped outside her house that morning, another new thing
greeted her.

Her lawn was strewn with what looked like meat.

Maria's frown turned into a downright scowl. So many different things today.

Painstakingly, Maria picked up the chunks, sticking them in bags at the end
of the road for the Capitol trucks to pick up in the morning tomorrow.

It was horrible, and it somehow hurt, but Maria worked through the pain.

Like always.

End Notes : I admit, this one got away from me a bit. I'm not all
that surprised, it was a nice prompt. But I'm not really sure what to do
with it now. I'll think on it. I think I may leave it for you all to figure
it out.

Have a nice day!
RK