FicWad

The eldest died a rebel fighter,

Another died to rebel.

One went clutching all those dearest,

The youngest clutched herself.



And thus the lost had their leader.

The sinners had their saint.

The dead were given a defender.

The forsaken had a friend.



Let's not forget our wretched warrior,

Who survived a life most painful.

The divinity for all mankind,

Who died crying Archangel!



And the one who stood above us all,

He was punished not from heaven.

Instead it came from humankind,

In all our holy aggression.



Here's to the warrior of the waking,

Here's to humanities angel,

Here's to the one who gave us strength,

Through his lover's name; Gabriel!

They all sing that now, even my own grandchildren. They sing without really knowing it's meaning, because to the world it is a celebration. A reminder of what humanity can do. Up until now, we have continued to let the world shape our history into something rather inaccurate because it is easier to remember a hero we never knew, than to accept the death of our brother. Now I am close to passing away, and whilst thinking back does still sting of bitter memories and never ending loss, I can now remember better times and all that we have won. I wish to write our side of the story, not the truth per say, because I have long since learnt "truth" is a very unreliable idea, just how events went down for those who lived it. When humanity learns their version of the story, they can grow up and read this, and realise all those amazing things they thought a group of powerful people called Deviants did, was in fact done by five. Five creatures considered sub-human by the mass, which were far from heroes but were in fact not more than a family of very flawed people, and for all our success we suffered and lost more than perhaps can ever be truly appreciated. More importantly however, I wish to dispel the hero that is Kyanel. No doubt you all learnt about the rebel leader, who you went on to believe was tall, strong, handsome and brave, all that cliché nonsense. In fact Kyanel himself is a lie. Very few even knew him by that name, to all of us he was simply Kye. Our brother, not our leader, who went through torments unexplainable. Not tall, strong, brave or handsome, he was simply human. Perhaps the most human of our Deviant family. So go ahead and learn history's version of him first, it is not my intention to pretend that my version of the story is any less bias than the one already known. I simply want to get across the fact that everything you thought could only be achieved by a strong legendary hero, was actually done by a 19 year old boy who lived for humanity and died for an angel.

So where should I begin this story? After all "the beginning" is not exactly an easy guide to go on when speaking of real human lives. Do I begin with the apocalypse? Rebellion? Post-rebellion? There are too many places to begin. Perhaps our births? Of course, our births are also kind of dull. Wouldn't make for a good story, and in the end whether it's a history book making up tales of "Kyanel leader of the fourth generation rebels" or me writing a novel about a forced together family of dysfunction deviants, human life is no more than a story.

Well, I shall start I guess with a situation that sounds like it should be a joke.

A solider, stripper, stoner, street rat and terrorist where sat together in a car...

Here's the punchline: They had all died.