Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-32764586-20180522211853

Uh, so I wrote a part one of a story collab that I'm doing with some other people. If this first part goes well and I end up posting it to the site, I guess I'll write the other parts for this wiki (Obviously because I'm not gonna steal other peoples work for the collab, I'll make other separate parts in my vision.) Anyway, this is my part. I'm genuinely unsure on whether or not this is good or bad, so I suppose I wanted the opinion of somebody.

Part 1: The Beginning of the End

Nobody knew when it had started, but it wasn't long before everyone started noticing. A father and his son stood in the stables, worried expressions on their faces. The father used his thumb to wipe the sweat off his brow as he placed a hand on his son's shoulder, Suddenly, his son broke the long, strenuous silence to ask his father a question.

"Papa, when do you think our crops will begin to grow again? They've been gone for a while now."

The father looked into his son's pale blue eyes. They had previously held such life an energy within, but as time passed the flare died down.

"I don't know son. I don't know. But believe me, they will be back. And when they return, we'll have the greatest potato stew party in all the land!"

The father put on a smile for his son, but deep down he didn't feel so hopeful. He looked at the sheep, pigs, and cows within their pen. He could see their bones protruding through their frail bodies as they fell deeper and deeper into malnourishment.

"Father, it hasn't rained in such a long time, and every day the clouds cover the scene. Why father?"

For this, the father didn't have an answer for his son. He couldn't explain it himself really. He had never seen a phenomenon such as this. So many of his plans had withered away and died, reduced to nothing but grey patches on the ground.

"Listen, Max, trust me. I promise that we'll be in luck soon enough. Trust me little buddy. Ok?

His son gave off a faint smile before squeezing his father's hand. His father couldn't feel much force behind little Max's grip, which worried him further. Still, he forced his lips to curl into a hopeful smile as not to make Max lose faith,

"Father, do you think mom will send us some water for our crops," Max said, pointing to the sky. His father looked up to the heavens where his wife stayed. He remembered the times he had spent with her, and he remembered the pain he felt when he lost her. It was tragic, and it hit him hard. Ever since then, he had shielded Max as best he could, claiming his mother was just visiting heaven and that she would return someday. He knew he would have to break the truth to Max eventually, but not yet. He couldn't lose Max too.

"Sure son, I'm sure mommy will bring down water for us. It'll be ok Max. All of this will work out in the end."

The father squeezed Max's hand tighter and lead him back to the house.

"Go and set the table, Max. I'll have dinner ready soon."

With that, the father unsheathed his sword, making his way to the pig pen. He stood in front of a pit, it's body frail and malnourished. He knew that there wouldn't be much fat on the pig, but then again, there was little fat on anything of the animals. The father put the sword to the pig's throat and, in one swift motion, sliced it. He carried the pig back into the house and into the kitchen after gutting and flaying it. He put the few pieces of meat their were into the furnace and cooked them well. Soon enough the meal was done, and the father brought out the pig on a dish. He sliced up some meat and put some on his plate, and then some on his son's.

"Here boy, eat well. You'll need all the strength you can get for the days to come."

"Yes father," the boy replied. Minutes passed, and the hungry father tore into the meat and ate it. His eyes watered at the juicy pork he chewed. Even if he hadn't much food, each morsel he could cram into his mouth was like heaven on earth to him. But then he stopped and looked up. He was quite confused with what he saw, and his smile quickly turned into a frown. There sat Max, hands on the table. His fork, knife, and napkin remained untouched, and even his pork before him hadn't been moved in the slightest. hell, it looked as if Max hadn't even looked at the meal before him.

"Max, why haven't you touched your meal yet? C'mon buddy, the boogie monster hasn't touched it yet. But it might if you don't eat your food!"

The father put on a cheerful face and used a silly voice to try and convince his son to eat enjoy his meal, but it what of no use. Max just stared blankly at the plate before him, twiddling his thumbs.

"Max, please, you need to eat. Don't you want to grow up big and strong like me?"

Again Max's father chuckled, but again he got no response out of Max. Max kept staring down at his food, not even daring to look up at his father when he spoke to him. The father knew the boy was in bad condition. His face was pale and his eyes were sunken. His stomach had caved in quite a bit, and he needed his son to survive. He couldn't lose his son too. Desperately the father pushed what remained of his meal over to the son's side.

"There Max, eat up. I'm not asking you anymore, I'm telling you to eat your supper. We have to stick together, alright buddy? We can get through this."

Suddenly, little Max looked up at his father, eyes wide open. "Mommy didn't get through it."

His father stopped, surprised with what he had heard.

"Wha... What did you say, Max."

"Mommy didn't make it. She died, and she didn't go to heaven. She plummeted, father. She fell straight down to hell, and that's where you'll go. That's where you'll go and I'll go, and the whole world will go, father."

The father walked briskly to Max and grabbed his risk, pulling him out of the chair. He looked straight into Max's eyes and spoke in a firm tone.

"Listen Max. Mommy is not dead! She'll be back soon, and you'll see her and she'll see you and we'll all be happy again. Now, don't you dare talk about Mommy and I like that. You understand me!"

Then, without warning, Max did something so unexpected that the father lets go of his wrist and stared at him in shock. Max starting giggling. He giggled and giggled and giggled some more, his squealing voice seemingly full of joy.

"No daddy. You're wrong. We're all going to die! "

Again and again, the boy repeated the same phrase.

"We're all going to die"

"We're all going to die"

We're all going to die."

His once ecstatic voice had droned out into a monotone one, and it sent shivers down the father's spine. With slight hesitation, the father lead Max to his bedroom and placed him in his bed.

"You need to go to bed Max. I can tell you're tired, and you need to rest and build up your energy. There is no excuse for your behavior tonight, and I want you to think about what you've done. "

With that, the father slammed the door shut. He fell to his knees outside the door and sank down to the floor, covering his face with his hands and silently weeping. How could his poor, innocent Max say such horrible things? He didn't recognize his son. No.... his son would never act like that.

Ever since the rain stopped coming down and the clouds covered the sun, the plants had withered away and the animals starved. With the two sources of food gone, the people of the world suffered as well. Hunger spread like wildfire, and people didn't have a way to feed themselves or their family. Millions of people were starving to death, and there was nothing they could do about it.

The father thought about his wife. How she had died of starvation trying to keep her family alive. She had refused to eat and had paid the ultimate price. The father ran his fingers down his sides. He could feel his ribcage poking through his thin layer of skin. He was withering away too, and he knew it. But he had to keep Max safe. He just had to. He couldn't lose Max too. He spent so much time working to protect Max from reality, that he too lost sight of reality. And losing sight of reality is a very, very dangerous thing.

"Goodnight Max, sleep well," The father whispered under his breath. But what he didn't know was that Max had been asleep and would be asleep for a very long time. The remains of the young boy were a truly gruesome sight, for his flesh had been ripped open, and the bite marks of a human jaw were scattered across his entire body. His bones had been snapped, and the dried blood surrounding his open wounds only made the sight of his lifeless body all the more horrifying. The hunger had kept growing and growing within the man, and eventually, his temptations and desire to live succeeded and took control of him. Still, the father carried his son's lifeless body around, doomed to try to save that which he had already lost. And until his death, he shall forever repeat those words which he has become quite fond of saying.

"I can't lose him too."

"I can't lose him too."

"I can't lose him too."

"I can't..."

The Horseman of famine has arrived in the world. The suffering of mankind has begun, and the beginning of the end has arrived. The Horseman now calls for his brother, Pestilence. 