The Cursed
Disclaimer: Hmm.../Looks through closet/ Nope. Don't own Inuyasha. Oh, and those lyrics you'll find at the beginning of every chapter aren't owned by me either. I got them all off of morbidpoetry.de, kay?
I know, I know. I have absolutely no right to start a new fanfic when everything else is on hiatus. But at the moment I'm having to force myself to update, and I just couldn't resist a Halloween Special horror-movie-crap thing.
Summary: Death follows me like a shadow. It won't leave, I cannot escape it. You are not the first, I doubt you shall be the last. Run while you can. Get away, as I cannot.
Restless ...
The everlasting war is lost once more
And as the candle dies
And the shades of eternity
Arise on the black horizon
The moment recurs
To leave the bloody corpse
And grasp - What´s left behind
To cross the border and wander
On the path with no beginning and no end
Again
Forlorn and imprisoned
In time and space forever
Honestly, I haven't the slightest idea what was wrong with the world. Well, of course I know about war, hunger, and sickness. But if you felt like thinking about it...Really thinking about it then you'd probably come up with the same conclusion I had. The main problem the world had was none other than people.
I was perfectly happy to sit in her dark little corner, but they were not. Dumb bastards. They always hated the quiet ones...It was always the quiet ones.
Didn't matter much, if the truth be told I was just fine in my dark little world, thank you very much. It's really not that bad in here.
People, or things that aren't exactly people, are never content to just let me be. Well, I can't be the only one they bother on a regular basis, I know that. But they just seem to step up the torment whenever I get anywhere near.
But you don't really know the whole story. In truth, I don't either. Just got dragged into it inexplicably...and the deeper I get the less I like it.
Being alone has it benefits. Or, at least, that's probably what the loners think.
The street is quiet today, your everyday suburbs. You have the white cottage house with an old lady gardening out in her yard. The yard is full of butterflies, butterfly bush, and peach trees. She's grinning a crooked-tooth grin, seeming rather satisfied with the world.
Next we have the huge white house. A family lives there, complete with the two bratty kids and the two clueless parents. The front yard is littered with various broken toys, and if you listen hard enough you can hear yelling. All is not well here.
The next house is cream colored, and everything from the front porch to the trees is littered with various bits of very...interesting chimes. Thick vines climb up the side of the house, and if you could just stand with your nose up to the window you would see a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair painting a parrot perched on her window-sill, delight evident in her wild eyes. She is an art teacher, her belly large with a child, and her husband is at work.
The next house, the final one that shall be described at this time, is across from the pregnant woman's. Everything about it is...off. The trees up front seem to sag just a bit too much, with bark just a bit too dark. The grass is just a bit too limp. The house itself always seems dark, as if it gives off an aura of unhappiness. If you were to walk in the front door, you would knock on the door, probably for over twenty minutes before its lone occupant would take it upon herself to come and see you.
You would then walk through the door, if she let you, which is rather unlikely. You would see the front room, with wood that was just a bit dull. She might even let you sit on a couch that felt like rock with just a few too many tears and colorless bits.
Who knows? If you were someone incredibly important or someone who for some reason or another was staying the night, she might show you around the place. She'd lead you through the living room, to the kitchen. It would be piled high with dishes, the cupboards all but empty, save for some stale cereal.
She'd show you the dining room next. It has dark floors, and the table is large, surrounded by eight chairs, though it is covered with a thick layer of dust, for it has been a long time since the place has been in use.
With a heavy sigh she'd show you the stairs next; they're covered with fraying carpet and the banister you don't touch as it too is covered thickly with some foul material or another.
Then you would be led up to a hallway. Directly in front of you, she would say quietly and point vaguely, is the bathroom. To one side is a series of doors, one which is a closet, the others which she says not to go in and will tell you nothing of.
Next she walks down the other hallway, the one leading to the left. She would open the first door, revealing a room bare save for a single plain bed and one decidedly dead fern.
The next room down is hers, full to the brim with books of all sorts. The bedding is a dull green color, and the whole room gives off an odor of binding glue.
The final room is equally uninteresting, all is has is a fraying couch, an old computer and an equally old television.
With that your tour would end.
With that, in all likelihood, she would take off with some excuse about homework and leave you in the place alone rather than try to make small talk.
There is much much more to this house than meets the eye. And, who knows, maybe if she let anyone near it someone would figure out why. For the time that secret is hidden behind almond brown eyes. But things are always changing.
"Told you so, moron. I told you, my girlfriend told you, we all told you." Golden brown eyes narrowed amusement.
"Now, now, I'm sure she'll succumb to my..." The other person in the room took a moment to sigh dramatically, earning odd stares from everyone else wandering around the room, "Charms."
"You tried to grope her, didn't you?"
"I merely gently and caringly caressed her derriere."
"So you groped her."
"Me? Grope? I would never do something so crass, crude, improper-"
The non-perverted male in the room sighed. "Now how are we going to get her to let us take a look around?"
The other person, called Miroku stopped his loud proclamations of innocence, and looked at the golden-eyed man, Inuyasha, with a mildly perplexed expression on his face. "What exactly is there to look at?"
"Do you know nothing, lecher? Every single time I go there, she was always covered with bruises and cuts. But she lives alone. Every single time you look at the yard, it's sickly; looks like someone put too many pesticides on it. But the only time she goes out of the house is to get more books and food. Explain that."
His fingers danced across his chin in a fast beat. "Perhaps we should take another look around"
Inuyasha sighed. "Whatever."