Living on
Hi, this is XianiaKnight and officially this is my first fan fiction. I have had this story in my head for years and this is the first time that I have tried to let people view one of my treasured stories. I hope that you will enjoy this one-shot as well as any of the other stories that I write, this story had some darker themes as well as a character death. Despite the darkness that this story has I am very proud of it. Anyway enough with the rant on with the story!
Five days, seven hours, 14 minutes since the one who had been a part of me for as long as I could remember left me forever. Five days since I heard his voice, five days since I stood still and watched as the demon beast tore open his chest, five days since my lord had to haul me away from his dead body. I remember it all so clearly; the smell of metallic blood, the red stains on my armor and hands from where I tried to hold his life's blood in, the scream that I heard that I vaguely believe was mine.
It's amazing how much has changed in five days. The bloody stains on the walls and floor have been scrubbed away, but in my mind I still see them as fresh and as bright as when they were first made. The people of the castle avoid me now, I don't blame them I would avoid them to, my anger at them is beyond sane, and my hate has taken me over like madness. They buried him while I was grieving, out in the fricken woods, where no one will ever think to go and pay him respect. They didn't even wait to ask me, they didn't even tell me they were having a funeral. They didn't invite me or my lord, the only people that ever really matter to him, the ones who knew him best. I learned that it was Fumu's idea to not tell us, the insolent brat.
It's funny how much I have changed in five days. I talk to no one now, not even my lord. It's not really fair to hold it against him though, he didn't know either. He was too bust keeping me alive to have bothered with what Fumu was doing, he is as angry at her as I am. But it doesn't matter at all, if the Cappies don't believe that I am worthy to attend to funeral of my beloved then they do not deserve to hear my voice, the disrespect they have shown Sword and I is irredeemable.
I am so tired of the looks they give me. The quick side-ways-glances the averted eyes, I can't stand it. Fumu is the worst, the look of superiority she gives me the nose in the air the slight scoffs, like she is the mature one the one who did the right thing, sweet death I hate her. Maybe because she is right in a way, maybe because she still has her family and friends, I have no one Sword was the last person I was close to, there will never be another.
The voices trail after me in the corridors, the soft words that they think that I don't hear. The "Poor Blade" and the "is she ok?"
No, I am not ok. I am a ghost. A ghost that cannot even walk into my old room anymore, a ghost that cannot see the weapons on the wall, the bed in the corner, and the helmet on the table. A ghost that has to be forcefully held back whenever she sees the stupid penguin and sniveling snail that brought the demon beast that ended his life. A ghost that wanders the hallways aimlessly looking back at fond memories and good times, a ghost people flee from in the hallways, that people's eyes skirt over, that they never make eye contact with. I may still be alive but a part of me died with him that day and for some reason that makes me feel less alone.
Well that's the end of it, I know that I was a little drawn out in some parts but I will work on it in future stories. So please comment I need some constructive critique for my writing. I have a couple of other one shots that I will be write as well as a multi-chapter Kirby fict called Mirror that I will be regularly updating. Any way I'm done rambling so please review and comment.