AN: Guess what people: I beat the Man!!! I got over my procrastination and I sat down and I wrote this! I finally got the plot-bunny for the Yu-Gi-Oh story that I wanted to write!! It was amazing, writing these couple-hundred words. Best hour in a long while. Umm, tell me what you think, if you don't mind. I'd like some support. Written under the influence of Steve Conte & The Crazy Truth, but it's not a songfic. I just listen to Steve Conte a lot. I'm warning you, this prologue's a bit dark. Future chapters will be much longer, I promise.
Dedicated to my amiga, Emily-chan! I finally got the Yu-Gi-Oh stuff I wanted to write! Thanks for the support, Shadowrosedragon! Oh, and thanks for the story of RP that entertains me on lonely winter nights. Hope you enjoy, wherever this goes.
Disclaimers: I own nothing!!! Except maybe some card decks and a couple of booster packs and whatever monsters I kidnap from my brother (but you didn't hear that from me).
And now for my first attempt at Yu-Gi-Oh. And now I present to thee the prologue of this tale…
The void of darkness that rested before him was all he had ever known. A desert of ebony sand stretched out for miles in front of him and a night sky with the barest smattering of feeble stars lay abandoned behind him. Fog loomed heavily in patches, wisps curling and collecting in nooks and crannies. The air was saturated with the tang of old blood and fallen bodies that littered the ground hundreds of miles away from the man. A steady torrent of wind howled across the landscape, screaming its cries of pain to anyone who would listen while grains of glassy sand spiraled to the tune.
Of course, the man was the only one to listen. It had been that way for quite some time.
Who was he? Frankly the man didn't know. One moment, it was nothing but black. The next, the figure found himself at the edge of this desert. It was like he had entered the world in the form of a tall man whose right arm and leg were replaced by hunks of incandescent steel. He had no memories of his past. Nothing. Just him standing here and trekking across barren wasteland, searching. For what, he wasn't sure either.
But one thing he did know: he was a survivor. The bodies he had left long ago served as proof for that.
So he had to continue, had to discover the source of the pull within his soul.
The wind tugged at his tattered burlap cloak, daring the fabric's frayed edges to dance. The man took the gusts as an invitation and stepped forward. His metal leg creaked on its un-oiled hinges as he trudged softly. The heavy weight made him limp slightly and after a while he decided to rest.
He sat down at the edge of a dune, sheltered from the harsh, unrelenting breeze. He looked back to see how far he had come. The breeze erased his footprints and every weathered hill looked the same. He realized with sadness that he had no idea how far he'd traveled.
Not that he cared. He wanted to find civilization. He felt like he was in a graveyard.
He slumped against the dune, closed his chestnut eyes, and let his sweat-soaked hair fall into his eyes. He was a survivor. That was what he would do until he found a purpose- survive. He let himself drift off to sleep. He would figure things out in the morning.
If there ever was a morning.