Hello, readers, I got inspired to write this when I was reading some fanfics, and I just fell in love with the idea. This story takes place when Lucy is still at her fathers mansion, a few years after her mothers death. I will try to make this long. Oh, and I might add my Fairy Tail OC, might. If you want me to, tell me in the reviews. I do not own anything, Hiro Mashima does.
Lucy's Point of view (POV)
I let a single tear fall from my eyes. I concentrate, so I can feel it run down my cheek. I listen for a sound as the tear drops to the ground. I look to see the tear shatter as it hits the ground. After a moment of thinking and reminiscing I pick up a feather and ink. As I begin to write I let more tears escape from the cover of my eyes, and fall to the paper. Only this time I don't concentrate, this time I don't listen or look. I let the memory of what I heard and felt travel to my hands, and watch as they are converted to words.
As a single tear falls I can feel the pain it has suffered. I can feel how hard and strong sticks and stones are, and how far and harsh words go and are. That single tear carries hurt, depression, hate, anger, and humiliation. I feel the pain of items being thrown at me, of kicks and punches being delivered, one after another, all over my body. I feel depression as I see people watching, people laughing, but nobody coming to help me. I feel hate, for my captors, as I do not believe I deserve this. I feel anger, for the god who can't save a child who is living an unjust life. And I feel humiliation, for I do not fight, I do not resist, I take the pain and bottle it inside me. And I take that bottle, with my hate, and my anger, and my suffering, and I place it on a shelf, along with all my other feelings, with all my other memories.
As a single tear falls I can hear the suffering it has endured. I listen as the tear drops to the ground, at that moment all other sounds are nullified, at that moment all the sounds of an hour comes to me in a second as the drop lends me its memory I lend an ear and listen for the words to give me access to listen, "We both share this memory, but the suffering is not halved, for that would be impossible. The only thing that is shared between us is the pain, but even that cannot be reduced." I feel my ears about to break, as I hear not-so-silent sobs and tears falling violently to the ground. I hear words bearing only hate. I hear people laughing and pointing. And I could hear a liquid falling to the ground. I hear footsteps as people leave me. But I don't hear a sorry. And I don't hear my lips part to express the feeling of hurt and abandonment.
As I single tear shatters I can see every reason as to why it was shed. I see a blonde girl, who is only about 13, lying on the ground. She is cut and bruised and many items and stones lay beside her. I watch as she is beat and laughed at. I watch and see a crimson liquid fall to the floor. I watch as people pick up the stones and throw them towards her. I watch as tears are rapidly being produced, and as fast as they are made, they fall. I don't see any resistance, or any violent acts from the girl. I watch as her captors deliver one last kick and leave. I watch as they leave the girl cut and bruised and crying. Only the tears falling dare to make a sound, and like a lullaby, it's rhythmical pattern lulls her to sleep.
I stop my tears as the last bit of pain I have seen, felt, and heard today is documented, and now only exists on the paper. I put my ink and feather away and take out a folder. It's tile is , Lucky Lucy. I file the paper away and smile at the title. "Lucky Lucy," I repeat in my mind, "What's so lucky about having her life. About my life." I take out another piece of paper and write a single paragraph.
My name is Lucy, but people like to call me Lucky Lucy. I don't know why people do, there is nothing lucky about me life. My mother died 3 years ago, and when that happened my father stopped caring and looking at me. People say they are envious of my life, but I don't know why. For the past 3 years I have had money and pretty dresses forced on me, and in return I would have to do everything my father wants me to. Be the perfect lady, get married to some rich guy I don't know, be polite. Why would someone want a life like that? But those are only my family matters. Everyday, at school, I get bullied and beat, always by different people. The whole school takes turns in hurting me, even the staff. My only friends are tears who share their memories with me. What is there to envy about my life, what is lucky about being Lucy. She's only something who longs for somebody to care.
I slip that paper in the front of the folder, so the first thing people see when they look inside would be my story. After hiding my folder in a drawer I lay my head on my desk, and just like the blonde girl, I let the music I call crying lull me to sleep.
How did you like it? Good? Bad? Short? This will be the last upload from me for a few weeks, so I decided to give you another story. Oh how awful I am, instead of finishing one of my other stories, to satisfy you guys, I just give you another incomplete story. And just so you know, I do not hate Lucy, she is my second favorite character. The only reason I only make sad stories about her, is because she is interesting to write about and I thing about a lot of sad things. Thank you for reading this story, please review!