author's note: here i am again, diving into a different fandom. Zelda! -luffs on fandom- i love the zelda series but the fandom could be better -.- anyways a first for wolfie! a non-romantic fic. this fic is a little different actually. each chapter will be the POV of a different character in the Zelda: Majora's Mask, game on their last day, the last 24 hours in the game. the characters are secondary, which include postman, madame aroma, kafei, anju, people like that and even those outside the clocktower, because the game never made the zoras or gorons really react to the third day, which is weird. anyways hope you like this. reviews and criticism are appreciated. :) enjoy. title belongs to soundgarden .
xxXXxx
black hole sun
chapter 1: Postman
xxXXxx
He may be crazy. They call him crazy. But no he is not crazy, maybe a bit on the fanatical side. He's determined, loyal to his boss Madame Aroma who sets a strict schedule. Yes very strict. Very important. He lived by that schedule and if he was "crazy" like they all said he was, he would be on his knees praying to it, bowing his head of thinning red hair to it. But he didn't do that ... not often. So there! He wasn't crazy. Just a dedicated worker.
That boy with the silly green hat would come to him (wow, he really wanted to talk to him?) and he couldn't even stop to talk to his fans (the thought made him giggle) because then it would throw him off task. The mail couldn't be late oh no. They would eat him alive. The town's people that is. He had stopped to talk one day, when he had friends and had run as fast as his brown, leather sandals, would allow and it just wasn't good enough. They screamed and scowled and he cowered.
That was the last time he was late. The very last time.
Today had been like any other day. 3 p.m. sharp he would start his not too fast, not too slow jog to the first mailbox, over in the North District. He'd slip the mail inside and behind, his dark, weary eyes noticed a poster with a big word in red, 'Evacuate'. But he didn't stop too long or his schedule would be interupted. So he continued the pace, thinking back to the word.Oh yes, he looked up for a mere moment to see that large moon, oh so close to the town. If he wasn't already running late from glancing at the poster he would've stared just a second longer. But no, he had to trot on. He made his way to the mailbox outside the landry mat and jogged on.
"Hey Mr. Postman! Come over here for a sec, we gotta show you something! Or would it "disrupt your schedule"." The guards leading to the Swamp laughed and laughed and he didn't even look because he was so late already. If he wasn't though, oh, he'd storm over there and use his great rabbit powers to teach them a lesson.
But that would disrupt his schedule.
--
He watched as the town's people heaved large suitcases out and about their homes. He watched them scurry about widly, screaming to "hurry, we don't have much time left" and since the mail was already delivered, on time, he stopped for a second to laugh. Oh, did they really think the moon was going to fall. Sure it had steadily gotten closer and ... closer ... but that was silly. Moon's didn't fall.
He stopped, couldn't waste too much time and scurried into his house, letting out a loud sigh of relief as he put down his empty mail bag and plopped himself down onto his bed. It was, indeed, written on his schedule, and he couldn't disobey the schedule could he?
--
The bells chimed and he was on his hands, his knees, stopping for a second to grab his head, shake it, pull his hair, do anything to make that chiming stop.
Remember, remember, moons don't fall. N-No, they stay high up in the air and shine their light through the darkness. Goddesss of Terminia, don't let the sky fall.
He didn't want to die, no, he was fine with his scheduled life, yes, yes he was fine with it! He was fine with it, he loved it, just let him live!
He collapsed to his stomach, red hat falling off his head as he lay with his forehead pressed against the wooden floor. Oh, oh how he wanted to flee but ... but it wasn't written on the schedule! That schedule. He stood to his knees. That god damn schedule.
He stood and walked to it, doing what he never thought he'd do, he ripped it down and as soon as he did he regretted it. It fell to the floor, he along with it. It laid there, ripped and sprawled out and just ... taunting him. Reminding him that he couldn't flee, it's not written on the schedule.
The bells chimed again and he glanced at his tick-tocking clock. Midnight, when it was rumored the moon would fall.
And so he grabbed his bunny mask and placed it upon his head and went to his bed, laying there, his chest rising up and down up and down up and --
He heard and felt a low rumble, his room began to shake.
He wondered if Madame Aroma wrote dying on his schedule.
--
Author's Note: I love the postman, his character is so tragic and I actually think this is quite a nice look on his character. yes tragic, as most all will be. anyways please review :D