Hi, this is Childoftime15! I am here to give you something a little more... Different. This story is twisted, demented, and both romantic, and tragic. I have already thought of the plans for this story in the future, so it should be fun! About my last story, you know, the Labyrinth the pretty much died... I was reading it and I think others would agree when I say: Face it, it was crap ok? I don't know what I was thinking, and yes, some parts were ok, but no... That doesn't cut it. So yes, I probably won't continue that one. But this one I think will turn out very well, and if anyone has suggestions as to keep Akabane from going into OOC it's more than welcome, I've been watching the episodes over and over just so I don't go into that category. I love Akabane, so to me it would be a disgrace to have him say or do something he would never in the series, even though he's very random and likes to appear out of nowhere carrying a fruits basket. xD So I think the boundaries for him are kind of loose. Hehe...
So, without further adieu, I give you Colors of Insanity!
Colors of Insanity
Chapter I
The stars shown brightly, like white heat, decorating the heavens with pervading beauty. Something not all admired, or taken notice of. It was that which she always adored - she, the young girl of 19, barely at the peak of her own elegance, unlike those of the sparkling ballerinas above her. Always in full bloom, always a spectacle.
Tonight, those dancing ballerinas wept.
Yaria's form raced across the side roads and alleys of Shinjuku as the rain soaked through her dull, middle class clothing. Heaving heavily, she reached a white wooden door, and stepped past the threshold.
Yaria's eyes bounced from wall to wall, from dark corner to dark corner, to every drop of faltering, lush, maroon paint that slid down the yellow, decaying, plaster walls. Yes, it was a work of art, a masterpiece even... But it was not hers. No, this was not her work. She had created many wonders, so many lovely things, but never this. Not this forbidden art that all were restricted from indulging in... The art of killing.
The girl couldn't recall when the ringing in her ears had begun, nor when it had ceased. Bodies laid mangled on top of each other like rag dolls in the middle of the living room floor, were the wooden floorboards creaked and moaned. She could hear a heartbeat convulsing rapidly; it took her a while to realize that it wasn't her parents'; it was hers.
Soon, it wasn't the rapid sound of a heartbeat she heard alone; it was a soft scraping noise, like a paintbrush to a canvas. Yaria pushed the creaking door farther out to see a dark figure, with long, flowing black hair, spreading the dark, crimson color in several wide sweeps across the wall.
The nineteen-year-old Yaria stared at the man, for what appeared to be more than hours. No matter what, her mind would not register who it was, even though it was at the very tip of her tongue. Her thoughts were too absorbed with the smell of decaying flesh and the sight of the dripping blood that surrounded her in all directions.
"Beautiful, isn't it…?" A smooth, silky voice spoke as its owner's back still faced Yaria, "Speechless, are we? I knew you'd love it; you're only one that could fully appreciate an art like this… You are a painter, after all." A dark laughter rang throughout the room, and echoed in Yaria's heart, scarring her mind. She knew that voice, she knew this man…
"Brother…?"
I hope you enjoyed the prologue to my story, there is lots still to come!
P.S. I am currently looking for an Editor, if anyone is interested, please let me know!
-Childoftime15