Chapter 1 That Saved A Wretch Like Me

Living without magic powers had its perks. Because you couldn't get even the most basic level minimum wage job, the government paid for your housing and food. Once a year they would even give you some clothes to make sure you would stay decent in the street. All they asked in return was for you to do the work no one else wanted to do. Cleaning road kill off the streets, sewage maintenance, and various cleaning jobs. It was like being a garbage man or janitor without the extra money from the paycheck. You worked or you didn't have a place to sleep. Often times people would treat the trash you were taking out better than they would treat you. Even then at least working gave me a purpose. Even if I wanted to quit and just hide away in my house that was not a good idea. Those without magic who became even more useless to society were sent to the Outskirts or the wasteland. While I was too young to remember the horrors that had happened about 50 years ago, my mom and grandfather remember everything.

They were the last ones left in their family. Most everyone else had died. A mutated group of crows had come through and eaten most of the family. These crows were black and actually a little smaller than the original crow. What made them terrifying were the teeth in their stomach and their toungue. The way they ate sends chills down my spine. While learning about the various new beast in school we were taught that the grow pierces with their beak. Upon drawing blood they create a scent marker for the rest. The flock flies in and pierces as well. That is when their toungue extends into the hole created by the beak. It then becomes hard as a knife and folds back on itself taking a massive chunk of flesh and muscle which then is digested in the stomach of the crow by grinding up the food with razer sharp teeth. A human could be picked down to the bone in about 10 seconds by a flock of 30 birds.

A crow by itself typically wasn't cause for alarm. The problem was they tended to always stay together. Usually in swarms of 10 to 50 birds. No one really knows what caused the mutations in the animals but the Prophet always said that it was from the impurity in our hearts finally affecting the beauty of the almighty's creation. If it weren't for the blessing of the Prophet and the knowledge he gave to us about magic, we would not have been able to survive the rise of the new beasts. We have him to thank for our survival.

Yeah it sucks, that I have no magic, but it is my own fault. I was born corrupted, impure. A Wretch is what they would call me. Most children can use magic by the age of 10. Those who couldn't were closely monitored. Even then most of those kids managed to show some ability, even if they weren't particularly skilled. As for me, that never happened.

My existence does have purpose for others. I am here to remind everyone of god's grace. The Prophet allows the few Wretches such as myself to live in his sanctuary cities to show how even the most worthless of us deserves life. I am also used as a reminder to what can happen if you are impure.

People saw me as something less than dirt. And they were right. I never fit in and no matter what I did I could never be comfortable with myself. I hated everything about myself and felt dread every time I looked at my body. I was an impure being and my punishment was to serve as a reminder. It was the least I could do.

My mother and grandfather, they loved me. They reminded me that while I was an abomination as long as I continued to pray to the Almighty I would be able to eventually be purified. I just wasn't trying enough. Whenever I would fail at magic, they would just tell me to work harder, I must have been thinking unclean thoughts dirtying my soul.

They were right. There were things I never could let them know or see. I was an abomination and I deserved everything that happened to me. Living with yourself with that much self hatred was hard and drains on you. I guess that is why my soul had begun to weaken even more than I had realized and I was slowly becoming more and more scarred. Every time I looked in the mirror or was reminded of how imperfect I was, it drained on me. I didn't even want to go on living anymore.

On a street corner a disciple of the Prophet was reminding those of the impurities. He reminded me how broken I was. I was tired and I didn't mean for this to happen. My emotions dropped and I became lost. There was no hope and my soul was permanently damaged. My sorrow began emanating from my soul and I collapsed to the street. I had only heard about this kind of phenomenon in books. I knew I was becoming defective and if I didn't get away I would hurt those who were pure. I deserved this and I didn't want others to suffer for who I was.

I ran away from the preacher and down into the park. The Prophet was to be making his daily stroll and I knew if anyone could cleanse my corrupted soul and destroy it before I harmed others he could. People knew never to come up to the Prophet. He was too holy. Only those he called by name were allowed to meet with him. For me though, it was already too late and I had no salvation. This is why I ran toward the Prophet. I was already corrupted and defective. He could hopefully end my suffering before I harmed another.

By the time I had found him my skin was starting to split open as my muscles grew and leaked out of my body, becoming a monstrosity. I was running out of time. As I was about to call out, A woman thrust a knife through the prophet. The last thing I saw was a look of shock on his face and blood oozing out of the wound, starting from his back and leading up to the front. Both the woman and the Prophet crumpled down to the ground and in my despair and pain I lost consciousness.

I could feel nothing. I could see nothing. My senses were completely gone from me. This is what it was like to be a defective. There was no pain, no joy, there was only nothing. It wasn't so bad. I no longer hurt. I felt free, like I would never have to worry about being impure again. The decision to work on purifying myself had been taken out of my hands and I was almost at peace.

There was a light, a presence in the darkness. A chill ran down my spine. With nothing else to see or do I walked over and touched the light. Suddenly the light enveloped me. It became one with my soul and a searing pain could be felt.

I was all the sudden aware of my body. The muscels overflowing began to shrink back to normal cramping causing a sharp pain throughout my entire being. Skin began to stitch itself up feeling like a burning cut and developing to an itching burning sensation. Where the scars of my soul use to be were now scars on my body. All over my legs and arms, my chest, back and sides. My clothing was bloody and ripped to shreds from the original transformation. I had been spared. Perhaps in his mercy the Prophet had saved me. Looking at his body lying on the ground a panic rose in me.

If he had saved me then why was he not responding. I walked over to his body to check on him but did not know what to do. There was a breath and a pulse but his eyes were wide open, not seeing anything. The lights were on but nobody was home.

That was when a voice in my head told me to run. To flee. It was quiet and faint but the more it started to talk to me the louder it got. I ran away to my home. I recieved stares on the street because of my horrifically bloodied clothes as well as the lack of clothes due to most of them being torn from the heaving muscle that had oozed out of my skin.

Finally I had reached my apartment and rushed inside. I immediately took off my remaining clothes and tossed it in the trash can. I felt disgusting. Blood was caked everywhere but my face. It seems my head had not yet transfomed into a defective beast when I was healed. My body ached all over and I felt like I had just been in a car wreck.

The voice in my head was louder and I could here better than ever. "Get clean now, we must flee." is what she said to me. In my horror I realized this was not the Prophet but the woman who had stabbed and killed him.

Who are you I whispered out loud.

Chapter title from the song "Amazing Grace"

Author's Note

*Please read the authors thoughts at the bottom, this is my first story and there were a few things I wanted to discuss with whatever readers decided to join me in my writing adventure