Prompts~

1.0

'The clouds above moved closer, looking so dissatisfied.' ~LP

I don't remember the last time I thought about him. Not that I have any reason to in my life, now, but really, I should have believed he would have crossed my mind, perhaps at least once. At least. But he hasn't. Until now. So I suppose this is that once I've been looking for all these years.

Three years isn't such a long time, not really. But it is when you think that you haven't thought of someone you put so much time and effort and will into. Not even once. Until now, of course.

The chill wind kicked up some leaves around me as I walked playing music from headphones. The old-fashioned kind, not the new ones that stick into the ears and don't even need a wire anymore. Headphones are very hard to come by these days, as everyone's moved on from them, and even the little earbuds with the wires connecting to the thing once called an iPod. Now its all digital, all voice command, all over-blown in its invention when honestly the old things worked just as well. Humans never learn when to stop.

I play my music too loud, I know, but it's the only way to somehow drown out the city sounds when I walk. And I walk often. And I think.

But not once about him until now.

Maybe it was the way the wind stirred the leaves or the child being relentlessly teased across the street or maybe even the particular shade of green on the coffee shop sign I passed a moment ago. But whatever triggered the thoughts opened a floodgate and I had to stop for a moment as fresh tears sprung to my eyes.

I looked up at the clouds. Dissatisfied indeed, as tears spill down my gaunt face. I wipe them away and look forward again, my feet moving without my asking them to. Three years isn't that long, I shouldn't be guilting myself with something so.. so what? Stupid? Foolish? Irrational?

I stopped at the next alleyway I passed as I thought of him again and turned my gaze to the red eyes watching me from that shadows. So that's why.

"Dib-human."

"Zim." Just Zim. He knows what he is.

1.1

'And now that the world isn't ending, it's love that I'm sending to you.' ~CK

Heaven, a human concept. Nothing of the kind exists for Irkens, and Hell either. Those are human concepts. Human concepts to rationalize death. While Heaven is optimal, even Hell will do because what humans fear is the emptiness. Not a place of eternal damnation or a place of eternal praising of a selfish god, but emptiness. Non-existence.

I asked a human once why they want to fly, and he said to be with the angels. Angels. Heaven-creatures. An answer that won't do for me.

I once saw a dog, struck down by a vehicle in the street and wondered at the human whom didn't even bother to stop. The dog twitched and wheezed and died. It didn't fear death, it didn't wish for a place in the clouds or a lake of fire. It just died. It knew it was going to die and it did so just the way it was obviously meant to. It didn't cling to life with false ideas of healing or miracle cures, or send prayers to a higher being in ask for its life to be granted back to it, nor did it dream of another, better or worse place after closing its eyes for the final time. No, it just died. And I wondered if that's how Irkens do it.

I haven't seen death on my planet. Its not a public affair like humans make it. We don't put it in the papers and on TV and gather others around to eat food and watch as our dead bodies are lowered into a hole with a few kind parting words and many fleeting tears. No, we die where we will not be seen and will not be missed. So does the dog, if it is not killed before it can get away. Noble dog. Vain humans.

All of this I considered as I stared down into the man's eyes, glittering with panicked life departing and tears of pain only the end can bestow upon a body. I held the handle of the knife firm in my hand, plunged to the undecorated hilt in the man's chest, in his heart. But somehow he didn't die, not quite like I had expected after all this time. His eyes stayed with mine, looking into the soul he wondered if I even had.

I said nothing as I watched a single trail of water appear from the corner of one eye. The other threatened to spill but never did, not while I was watching anyways.

He blinked once, just once, and that's when I really saw the truth of it all in his amber eyes.

There is no way of knowing what comes next, and that is truly the essence of all fear of death. Most say pain is the most terrifying part of death but they lie. It's the un-knowledge. The not-knowing. And I watched as Dib came to terms with this not-knowing, understanding that he was about to know and he was terrified.

Even as the light faded and his eyes became the dull, lusterless ones of a child's sick stuffed animal, I saw just a glimmer of what lies on the other side and I smiled.

I smiled at death because I saw it do its job and leave. And I saw what comes after it leaves.

1.2

I watched him breathe. Such a simple motion, in and out. Chest rising slowly and falling just a little faster than. Air drawn into lung cells where it is broken down in a matter of split-seconds into useful substance to the body. Why is such a common thing so.. attractive? Because it is what makes him live. Without it he would die. Just like the contractions of his heart and the stirring of his blood in his veins, he would die.

And life is attractive, but death is even more so.

I laid a hand on that chest, both bare, and felt the softness of his skin greet mine warmly. He shivered in his sleep but my hand not long warmed to his skin and he settled in delirious comfort again. The comfort only those who slept in absolute surety can attain.

I could feel his strong, youthful heart beating slowly within that handsome chest and it comforted me knowing it was there, working just to help him live. I closed my eyes though I knew I wouldn't sleep. Rest, perhaps, but not sleep. I never sleep.

Do machines know dreams, some ask. Well, we do. We see images that are not real and hear sounds that do not sound and yes, we have good dreams and bad dreams and dreams that we have no opinion on.

I find that I often have dreams when I am with him, lying just as I am now with my head on his spare pillow and my hand over his heart as if I could protect it forever just by being there. I dream of being a human and I dream of him being an Irken. I dream of having a heart and wonder what it would feel like, beating against my flexing ribs and pushing blood all over my body to keep me alive.

I wonder if he wonders what it feels like to have my PAK, whirring quietly as it filters the Earth's air for my lungs to take in and circulates my thick alien blood. To have the wires that run along my spine and keep safe my vital organs.

We are so different, two aliens in their own right, yet not all that much so.

I closed my eyes and let the gentle throbbing against my hand take me to another place, that place humans and sometimes animals share. A place other Irkens don't go.

1.3

I didn't drop the flowers in, as most do so tenderly and lovingly, with their last words and tears of sorrow and longing. No, I threw the dying plants in and turned away. I didn't care to see the dirt being shoveled over the coffin or the flowers crushed by bits of rock and large clumps until they were nothing but speckles of color in an ocean of brown. Nor did I care to see the headstone being brushed off or the mat of grass lain over the dirt patch that was once a hole.

No, I could do without that. And I did. I walked away from my father's funeral just the same as everyone else did, only without the tears and kind words to my fellow mourner.

I ignored the words thrown in my direction, grateful that everyone knew not to come near enough to stop me or get in my way. I went home. I sat in my computer chair and watched TV for countless hours in silence, moving only to get a drink and piss, not particularly in that order though they do go well together.

And finally, around 4am, I went to sleep. I slept in a dreamless dark while the TV droned on with no one watching.

I wonder if it ever does anything different while no one is watching.

Maybe it watches me.

I know he was.

I felt the eyes even before I woke. I looked up at the alien, tired in a way that suggested I had not rested at all during my fruitless sleep.

He stared back down at me, a very-human gun aimed at my head. Though, I didn't really think that appropriate. I think it should have been aimed at my heart.

We didn't say anything, just stared, one in tired wonder and the other in unreadable need. There were no realizations on my part, and no guilt on his, I think. No victory either. Just.. murderous intent, and while that sounds angry or cruel it really wasn't. It was no more than two beings doing their job. He pulled the trigger and I died.

Simplicity I've never had in my life. I liked it.

1.4

I stared up at the sky, so blue and beautiful behind that city haze of smog and murk. White billowy clouds moving across at their lazy speed, grazing the sun every now and again and making the world darker for just seconds. At least, I know they should be white. Moving through this air they appear to me gray and yellow, but I can imagine them pure white and beautiful.

The sun felt warm on my skin and I closed my eyes sleepily, but then opened them again, not wanting to miss a moment of the beauties of this man-cursed planet.

The grass, what little is left on Earth, both sharp and soft. A good cushion under my head yet it tangled in my hair and tickled the back of my neck. Funny grass. I hope no dogs have been by here. Cats, either, though they usually bury theirs.

Funny that I worry about dirtying my clothes with dog's leavings while I lay in a pool of blood, which I think stains worse than shit. I can feel its warmth, competing with that of the sun, soaking slowly into my shirt and, I would swear, my skin. It doesn't really feel good, but who am I to complain? Just a human enjoying the day.

I blinked at the shadow he cast over me as he stepped up, panting softly from his efforts of fighting. I didn't feel any need to be tired. All of that left me when I hit the ground. I just feel.. peaceful, tired a little but not physically. Not like him.

He said something, I can see his mouth moving and hear the harsh vibrations of sound in my ear but I don't understand it, not really. I don't care to, either. He's just interrupting the lovely day I'm having, watching the clouds go by. Satisfied clouds, in their own right.

I can see he's angry, still, but he will get over it. I have.

He takes a knee beside me and I feel his hand close around my throat, faint, an interruption in the warm sun's rays. For a moment I can't breathe but that's alright, I don't feel any need to. Something says in the back of my head that breathing is important, but I tell it that the sun is more important and push the idea away.

He talks on still, saying things I can't hear and glaring down at me but I just blink at him and wait for my view of the sun to return. The hand leaves my throat but I still don't breathe, finding the effort of it too much. I'll just lie here for awhile, take a break from such trivial human functions.

The alien finally falls silent and moves out of my vision. I blink again as the sun bears down on me fully. I didn't remember quite how bright it had been. I can just barely see the Irken's form from the corner of my eyes, but I don't look at him. Too much effort, and besides, I don't want to miss a moment of the sun.

I hear the thought in the back of my mind again, saying I need to breathe, saying my heart needs to beat, but I ignore it. Such things don't matter on a day such as this. And if I had worried myself with such things, I might have missed the sun, which is starting to darken now. I might have missed this beautiful day, which is turning to dark. As I watch, a starless night overtakes the beauty of the day.

That was nice, a nice day. Now I can be tired. I can sleep.