| The Real Illusion |
It was a wasteland, dust swept up at Lucasâ feet and harsh winds threatened to blind him. Every intake of breath he took would have choked him, the polluted air that was strung with the sickness filled his lungs, infecting everything that it touched. His skin should be hurting, should have been licking fire across his skin freely as he stood centrefold to what used to be his city.Â
This wasnât Grimstone; it wasnât even close, it was what was left of his former home. It was what every horror movie dreamed to capture on the screen; buildings had fallen to crumbling remnants of the monumental structures they once were. Vehicles were abandoned, hollowed out to metal shells and scattered haphazardly in the roads. There was no sign of life, no greenery; trees were gone, withered to dust and debris. Fires roared in the distance, capturing the last of the flammables in desolate structures.
It was Lucasâ definition of the apocalypse.Â
As his eyes moved, more chaos appeared, the dystopian ruin was littered in ashen bodies; disfigured; unrecognisable; dead. He hadnât realised heâd been breathless, that panic had invaded every fibre of his being, it shouldnât have been there either. None of it should have been, but even as he slowly turned to survey his surroundings, it was everywhere. The chaos and ruination of the place heâd once known so well - his vision was blurred, or perhaps it was the world that was, he couldnât quite tell in his haze.Â
What he could figure out was that heâd heard the announcement. Heâd seen the news and heâd been cut off from technology in the same instant. Much like this world that he was now gazing upon; everyone was gone. The shaking of Greenmanâs body was a cross between fear and anger; two things that werenât ever part of him, but what had just happened; the crushing disappointment, the pandemonium that it promised had made Lucasâ imagination, and ability flow into a state of overdrive. It was the feeling of hopelessness, grief and loss.Â
Hence why he was standing in the midst of the decimation of what the announcement promised the outside world would eventually look like. Grimstone had been the apparent safe haven and they were powerless - for the first time, to do anything about it. They were to hide and allow what Lucasâ illusions were speculating and heâd never lost the grip on his ability like he had now, heâd never taken images from the news reports, fictional movies and the town he was standing in and formed the terrifying false reality that was surrounding him right now. If he didnât know better and he hadnât spent years honing his ability to what it was, heâd say it was real. Real enough.Â
The only reminder that it wasnât real was that he wasnât choking on the sickening air that was floating poisonous particles past him, that the blood and dust werenât staining his black boots and that he wasnât able to truly touch the dead that covered the floor for miles. He couldnât determine if they were strangers or his closest friends; he couldnât do anything but stare at the powerful illusion that heâd formed for everyone in the nearby street he was standing in to be consumed in.Â
The pressure on his mind reminded him that there were limits to how far he could project the realistic portrayal of the future outside the walls and despite the silver lining that he was âsafeâ within the walls of Grimstone, everyone outside wasnât. Lucas wasnât used to feeling the way he was but he couldnât bring himself to stop crafting the false reality around him. He needed to do something and he already knew that if heâd heard the announcement, then so had everyone else.Â
And there were far more dangerous and unstable individuals in Grimstone than him; his own friends that had been thrilled to leave the place were likely taking it out somewhere - or on someone and instead of using rationality and forward-thinking when told that a superflu outbreak had plagued the outside. All that was likely running through their minds, was the same thoughts running through Lucasâ; they were prisoners to Grimstone again.Â
âWe canât let this happen,â he murmured, crouching down to hide that his knees wanted to buckle at the sight of every new detail his mind had formed. He could feel a migraine pushing at his skull, warning him to lay off the complexity of the illusion heâd created. But he wasnât ready to let it go yet, it wasnât scorched into his mind enough yet that the consequence of ten years time if the superflu was left untreated. Grimstone could help; they were gifted, someone must be able to help whilst offering the freedom and transition back into the real world. âTheyâll find a cure quickly, right?â he added with a little of his own venom; a little gravelly and uncaring for the ones suffering out there. He did care, a lot. But he also cared about the stability of his own friends at Grimstone.Â
Even if Greenman knew what fictional plain heâd surrounded himself with was farfetched, the result was just the same. If the superflu was fatal in all of its hosts, then the world would cease to function; there would be no one left for the residents at Grimstone to meet with. They would be as alone out there as they were now. âWe cannot let this happen.â and this time, when he repeated the words, they were almost growled as his fists slammed into the ground beneath him, it didnât kick at the dust that wasnât there. It hurt like hitting concrete, but Lucas didnât let himself feel it, he just stayed crouched, calming himself down enough so he could disassemble the illusion without damaging his mind in the process.Â
