Disclaimer:
I do not own Klonoa or any other of his game series' characters. For one thing, I do not know how I even thought of this… maybe I got influenced by an emo friend of mine. This is my world where Klonoa never had his adventures… you have been warned, read if you like.
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A NEW LIFE
--A SAD PROLOGUE--
Enter Breezegale, a provincial village by the sea where the wind seemingly blows through forever, where the windmills blow year long and where laughter abounds in all. For as long as the oldest of residents around that area could remember, the town was clearly known to be inhabited by Mammalian beings however though, whoever you are can doubt what was just stated for there is one there that proportions the joy of all the rest with his soul tainted sorrow, and that the oldest resident there has well… maybe I could just describe it with words.
Picture the best time of day to relax where the ocean breeze is at it's prime and the clouds were in the most amazing shape for gazing, now imagine a tall cliff where you can get the best of that moment complete with the bushy fresh green grass with the strange aroma of nature, now imagine a newly made gravestone strategically placed right there. Well you can't anymore, for the gravestone was just smashed into pieces earlier, probably done by the juvenile youth of the community. Whatever remained attached to the ground of that you can still read something like 'Kazeno' and the rest was no longer. No, I didn't kill of the adorable large ring wielding cat-rabbit we all learned to love, if you continue to read you'd find that he sat in mourning a few feet right in front the shattered grave.
"Grandpa…" the broken child murmured in a sound much lesser than a whisper, as cold tears of great loss came out of his once clear-golden eyes. Aside from sweat, earth and loss, he wore the traditional black whatever it's called when attending any sort of modern funeral. He was no exception, a bit overdressed as he may be and well, in fact that the period where he should have worn that was two long agonizing days ago for the lad when a crowd gathered there. Ever since that gathering was done, he stayed there, not changing wardrobe, not budging from that spot, not even eating, not even talking in sentences, sometimes suddenly falling asleep on the ground then waking maybe from minutes to hours later all sweaty from unwanted nightmares of the deceased loved one. There was a sore wound across his furry left cheek and a noticeable black right eye. Where a boy his age would get such a beating? Maybe the part in the last paragraph where I mentioned a 'shattered' grave would give you a clue. Hard to believe but it happens, that just the crust in the dark part of nature in those alive that give in. Was my description too much?
If not, then continue to read this part. He tried a few times to dig his way down under with his bare ungloved claws in short episodes of bursting emotions and reunite with his granddad and all those times he gets to his senses and shivers of guilt, sorrow, hunger and sickness would run through his fragile spine. An attempt to take his own life via stopping his breath long enough and or jumping off into the inviting depths of the salty waters failed once or twice. What would a child reaching the unstable phase of adolescence do if he just lost the only loved one he knew and had?
The locals of the windy residential area took pity on the lad; after all it was his once innocent smile and laughter that brightened up their day every morning, but it only reached up to that for pity is all that there was, no form of help or hand even tried to reach up to the broken soul. It was under a starry night sky when it happened, although the visions you eyes could gaze upon was contenting, wondrous and enlightening it didn't raise him from his great depression one bit. His vision was beginning to blur, a yawn escaping from his hungry throat and his limbs shaking from reasons to many to explain, trying his best to keep his head up it finally happened; the boy suddenly collapsed on the soon to be dewed grass. From behind the exhausted fallen body, a shadow illuminated by the moonlight came closer and closer, it went around the boy and a lone silver flower was dropped on the grave before it turned back and looked at him. Like a newly wed bride or a lifeless corpse after an emotional chain of events in the middle of the battle field, he was held in that fashion and against his knowledge and his will; he was carried off away from his grandpa's broken grave.
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I have absolutely no clue how I thought of such thing. But I promise it will turn up into a happy ending. R&R Nope, not much changes in this part.
