*Disclaimer: I do not own the characters Donatello, Leonardo, Michaelangelo, Raphael, Splinter, April O'Neil, or Casey Jones.  Please don't sue me, I don't have any money.  Thanks J

Chapter 1: Oblivion

Note: I know, I know…this is really short.  I've just been trying to sit down and write this story for so long and I chicken out every time.  I'm hoping that getting this up will force me to keep going with it.  Feedback is appreciated!

Leonardo:

It's dark here.  It feels like it's been dark forever.  I know I should be scared, but I just don't have the energy for it.  I know my brothers are here-I can feel them-and I wish I could talk to them, but it's so dark and I'm so tired.  It feels like I'm constantly floating somewhere between waking and dreaming.

I hope this is a dream.  I hope it's the longest dream I've ever had.  I hope I'll wake up soon.

Donatello:

I wonder sometimes if I'm dead.  I know there was a fight, and someone ambushed us, but I can't remember anything after that.  I'll be the first one to admit that for all my knowledge I'm just as ignorant as the next guy when it comes to the afterlife.  I guess I was expecting more.  You know, a tunnel and bright white light and all of that, but it's just always dark here.  I thought once that I felt water over my hand.  It was warm.  I haven't felt anything since then. 

Michaelangelo:

I really don't want to die.  Yeah, I know it's probably too late for that, but still I can't help it.  In my gut I know something is just so wrong and I know it's the same for my brothers.  I'm glad that it's hard for my mind to think because I really don't want to think too hard about what's happening.  I want it to be over and I want everything to be okay.  I know I'm asking for a lot.  I just don't want to die, not like this.

Raphael:

I want to scream.  I want to kick, punch, snap, smash, anything…anything but this.  This is just…nothingness.  I'd feel like I was going crazy, except I think I might already be there and it's just getting worse.  I've even tried Splinter's thing about concentrating on the rhythm of my breath, but I'm not even sure that I'm breathing.  I can't feel anything.  I could be dead, I'll admit the thought has crossed my mind…and it would make sense, because this sure feels like hell.