Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor any Band, Brand, or Label I may write about.
Chapter One:
Operation (Car) /Crash/
.
...
The car came in a matter of second(s).
The glare on his lenses left him disoriented and unable to breathe.
He stood there dumbfounded. Yet, it's (not) as if he could have dodged the vehicle in time anyway.
Either way, he was screwed.
...
.
My best friend, Light, was hit by a drunk driver Saturday (morning).
He was walking to Misa's when a vehicle came blazing out of Weathering Heights. They tried to stop, but the curse of
(intoxication) took its toll in the end. A delayed reaction left the man clutching his invisible brakes at the (police station)
thirty minutes later, which ended up resulting in a drug test.
.
...
My... name, well, it's unimportant. Don't even bother guessing,
this (isn't) some deranged kid's book where the magic word will save future drooling babies everywhere.
All you need to know is that life isn't always spelled out in front of you. You can't always steal glances at your lines to figure
out your next move. Sometime(s), the coffee spills on the entire manuscript.
...
.
"What are you staring at, jerk?"
I snap back to the (life) passing before me by a kid obnoxiously picking his nose and acting like he's one hardcore munchkin.
The boy, he's like seven years old, if that. He's got his hat on backwards and is wearing clothes with word(s) he's never even heard of.
"Sorry, kid."
.
...
I grab a magazine before the child snaps some other rude remark my way,
or the mother accuses me of having a "thing" for the kid I apparently keep staring at. The magazine I grabbed happens to
be Seventeen. Great, now I get to read about Paris Hilton's new (dog). I wish the doctor would just let me go. There's
nothingwrong with me, my best friend is the one in the hospital bed.
Whatever.
...
.
I finally get to leave
after (30) minutes of random doodling on girls in the magazine.
"Hey, Lawliet, wait,"
I hear Light yell as I was about to head out of the hospital.
"Yeah?"
"Don't forget."
"I won't."
..
.
With those words said, I at last get to make my escape from this stench infested place.
I pull out the cellular phone from my back pocket and dial Misa's number. She's probably freaking out by now, considering Light
was suppose to have been at her house by now. That girl is in love with Light. Hmm... maybe (love) isn't the right word;
let's just say, she's attached to his wrist like a handcuff.
.
...
"Misa?"
"Hello? Lawliet, is that you?"
"Yes, Misa."
I sometime(s) forget
I have to talk in enunciated sentences
for her to (understand) what I'm saying.
Things just seem to fly past her eyes,
such a careless girl.
"Where's Light?"
...
.
After ten minutes, I was able to explain everything to her... well, (almost) everything. She did not know who it was that ran over her boyfriend,
nor did she know that we knew who that person was. I gave her enough information to shut her up,
and believed (every) single word of it. She's such a dimwit, that girl. Though, that comes to our advantage, I must say.
Afterall, we could never risk something like (that) to become public knowledge.
.
...
I open the envelope Light told me to get from his jacket.
He said that he did not want taking the (chance) of it being read by one of the members of the hospital staff.
I skim through the lettering and the photograph attached with a paper clip.
I smirk, and place everything back in its nicely addressed envelope. "This'll be good," I think. . I never thought he had it in him,
perhaps I misjudged him. I suppose I (should) mail this.
...
.
I get into my nice (sports) car, and drive to the closest post office.
"Hello, sir, could you mind helping me?"
"Why, of course. What do you need son?"
"Please mail this for me. Here is a 100;
that should be enough for postage and as well as,
express mailing."
"I'll be sure to do just that. Thank you."
.
...
I glance at the man; he's getting to work at what I am too lazy to do.
Just as I thought, strangers always seem over eager to assist those who have extra cash to contribute.
Perhaps, I should be doing these insignifcant tasks myself but, why bother when others are willing to do so for you?
Once I am sure he has done what he was told, I walk out the building.
...
.
I laugh at how simple we thought this would be.
Light, you've never stopped intriguing me. Here you are in a hospital bed and you still beg of me to continue with this plot.
"How must you're mind work?" I mutter to myself.
Throughout gradeschool, we were told we were that of the same mold.
Still, there's something different about you. Yet... I still have not been able to grasp what exactly that is.
What makes you tick, Light Yagami?
..
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Author's Note:
This is something new.
Different from my typical works.
Tell me what you think.
REVIEW PLEASE?