Mirrored Demons
By: Loralei Fairhill
Rated: PG
Genre: Reflection piece
I haven't done my take on Chiba Mamoru's parent's deaths yet. This
is a bit unconventional, but then I'm usually the one to try to
break out of such things. Read if you like, and I hope that which
you find disturbs you.
Email to: Loralei1300@aol.com
Thanks go out to Meredith for pre-reading. *hugs*
Just in case you don't get it, Akuma means devil, or demon, and
part of this story is told from its point of view from inside
Mamoru's thoughts.
"He is all alone, in his mouth the taste of ashes,
That he knows for the sum of his life;
And the only light, as he sits in the hollow darkness,
Is the gleaming edge of a knife."
--Chorus, "The House of Atreus"
[a translation of Aeschylus's Orestia]
Swing one foot forward, towards the abyss, and the other back
in perfect time, home again against the ledge. Unceasing in patterns,
back and forth, set in rapt contemplation of nothing more (or less)
than the thought of moving to a silent, knowing rhythm.
Swing the other back, toes curled against muddy sandals, caked
with dirt from walking the highway. Now shift closer to the edge, to
the sweet, empty night. Not all the way, but a bit nearer to the end.
It's enough to be this distance. Swing your feet again, little boy.
There is an air of desolation about you, of utter despair.
The wind has blown your midnight-crow hair so far back, but you do
not revel in its touch. The sea stares hungrily at you from below,
but you ignore its shivering, icy fingers reaching ever higher to
claim your small body for its own. No, little boy, you don't care.
Continue to swing your feet, and maybe move along the ledge a little
further from the land.
A permanent frown mars your brow, spider-lines in cloud-loops
stretching across your tiny forehead, as if you'd already experienced
the careworn adult world in the few years you've walked the Earth.
Is it so horrible, this life? I suppose it must be, for if you felt
even a glimmer of hope, you would not be here with me, would you?
Why exactly are you sitting in this frame of mind, I wonder?
Could it be that you actually regret your actions for the first time
in your young life, or is it only that you feel a sense of remorse
for your so-called "loved ones" that crossed the border from this
world to the next? No, no, let's not dwell on that. You can't feel
those emotions; you've become a warrior of ice, with barriers
impenetrable as the Fortress.
Yet there are other things that touch you: the feeling of
presents on Christmas morning when the snow has fallen so white
against the wet-black bark of the evergreen trees, a chocolate
ice-cream cone handed to you by your mother, a game of catch with
your father. Frivolous things, transient things. What would you see
if you pushed them together in front the mirror? They make up you,
a selfish little boy, always thinking of himself. Had to play outside
instead of helping mommy with the laundry. Had to beg daddy for
the new GI-Joe action figure instead of finishing your homework.
Disappointing soul, making parents angry enough to drive away in
their car together, causing them to lose their thoughts and swerve
to their deaths in the wildly starving and ferocious waves.
It's your fault they've gone, isn't it, little boy? Did you
ask for too much, did you think you'd get your heart's desires handed
to you on a pint-sized silver platter? Or was it just that you knew
they didn't love you, didn't want you, didn't need to save you? If
they had survived and you were gone, would they miss you? Your
crocodile tears, your mischief, and the way you continually disobeyed
them?
No. See for yourself in the mirrored sea, look into the
depths where their spirits now make their home: they are happy. And
they are without you.
That's life, that's your life. Is there any reason why you
should keep up this facade, this utterly pointless charade? Why not
just be done with it all? Swing your feet, ever closer to death.
Dusk, with firefly light dancing in and out of existence, and
crashing surf below does not bring a smile to your face. The air is
streaked with red, perhaps a vision of the future, of the past,
possibly of the present. Any time now, your motion will set your
body reeling, throwing you past the grasp of reality and any thoughts
of what you might have grown up to be. Don't fight this, little boy;
this is your destiny.
Dry-eyed, you were at their funeral. Pensive, the only family
member there, you watched (but did not see) their bodies being lowered
in oaken caskets into the cold, unforgiving earth. What would you
have done to go with them? Sold your soul to the Fallen Angel? Perhaps
that was your thought as you allowed the social worker to lead you
slowly away from the freshly overturned dirt of their graves.
It haunts you, to think of them as corpses caught, frozen in
time, in a pit gouged into the ground. There were nightmares after
the funeral, weren't there? And daydreams of parents buried alive
and screaming for release? How many times did you stumble over the
fact that they could be wakening in their coffins at this very moment?
There was no way to dispel the fear that they would do so and dig
free to find you.
You're almost there, little boy. One more inch, and your
tired, weak body will lose its hold on the edge. Then, nothing will
save you from the fall into the ocean. It will claim you as it did
your parents, and you will welcome its conquest.
~
One slight movement, and he would be gone. A miscalculation
in the stroke of his legs back and forth, and he would disappear
forever into a floating eternity. Could I truly let him die like
that, dashed against the frothing waves and the jagged points of
the rocks?
All he had to do was come back towards me. Just a bit at a
time . . . and I might save him yet. To convince him--would I be
able to? He may as well have already allowed his soul to fly free;
there was no will to live left in him.
Still, I had to try. For the woman I would become, I had to
try.
~
Now's the moment, little boy. Swing just a bit farther, and
eternity is yours.
~
"Mamoru, no!" I screamed as loudly as I could. He turned his
head slowly to look back at me, blue eyes luminous in the encroaching
dark.
"Something the matter?" he asked calmly. He blinked and
resumed kicking his legs. The spray wet his unruly hair a bit, a
foreshadowing of the moments to come.
"Yes. Move away from the edge," I pleaded, knowing I was
doing this in vain.
"Why should I? The sea welcomes me as its brother. I should
go to it like a good little boy. I'll be a good little boy for
once." He shook his head. "Are you trying to change my mind?"
"Yes! No, wait, it's not that . . . it's just . . . Mamoru,
please come nearer to me! The ocean, it's--"
"Beautiful, it's absolutely and completely beautiful. Why
shouldn't I want to be a part of it?" His eyes burned into mine,
demanding an answer. I had so little time left.
"Because you want to be with me. Because there is a sad little
girl waiting to love you in this world, and she'll never know you if
you drop off that ledge now." I was very close to tears. Regardless
of what I said or did, he would be gone in a few instants from now,
spiraling down to his demise.
"Who?" He seemed curious. "Why would they ever love me? I'm
evil. I killed my parents, and now I should join them. Besides, who
are you to tell me that someone would ever love me?" His laugh then
was bitter, full of self-hatred. I shuddered at the darkness it
emitted. "There's no one in the universe . . . no one at all in their
right mind who would feel that emotion for me." He turned back to
the sea, staring intently at its foaming mass.
"Of course there is!" I argued vehemently.
He smiled sardonically, the corners of his mouth frowning at
the same time. I shivered at its dark intensity. "Once again, I ask:
who? I want to see the imbecile who would take the chance to love me.
That's like--like playing dice against the Devil and throwing
doubles."
"Why do you say such things? Why do you think them? They're
not true--"
He shrugged. "Sure they are. Akuma always tells the truth.
He's been with me ever since they fell. He says I should join them
because no one would ever love me. Now you say someone does, someone
will, and I demand: who?"
Now or never, Usagi, I thought despairingly. "I would. Me,
Mamoru, just me." The wind chose this particular moment to pick up
and blow hard enough to undo the two small twin buns on either side
of my head. My hair flared around me like a cape, or a strange sort
of halo.
"You?" He laughed again, this time with a bit more mirth. "I
find that highly amusing. You're lying. And besides, I don't care
about you. I don't even know you!" He scooted closer to the edge, a
breath away from succeeding in his tormentor's plan.
I took a step closer. It was starting to rain now, small,
glass-shard drops that hit my skin like liquid mercury and burned as
they pelted onto my face. "I can't prove it now. I want to, but I
can't . . . you'll see soon! I promise, I promise! Just . . . please
stay here, with me, in this life. If you jump . . . if you fall . . .
I may have to wait so long to find you again! Mamoru. . . ." The tears
began, mingling salt with clear water falling from the heavens. Did
the angels share my sentiments? Were they together with me in my
infinite sorrow?
"Promise?" He shoved himself a bit away from the sea's
whorling maelstrom. "I promised them I'd be good. But was I ever?
No. How can I trust you if I can't trust myself?"
"I'll follow you!" I shrieked, not even realizing how foolish
I sounded. "I'll jump right off after you, so I won't lose you again.
The future will mean nothing to me without you by my side. Mamoru!"
A sudden gust slammed against my chest and tore the words from my
mouth, pouring bitter gray water onto my tongue.
Suddenly, he understood. My rash statement had broken through
his walls of silent agony. He breathed heavily into the teeming rain,
his breath steaming clouds into the cooling air. "You . . . do . . .
feel something for me."
~
Little boy, what are you thinking? Stop walking towards her!
She will only trick you. The way to salvation is not in her; it is
with the waters, it is with me! Little boy!! Little boy!!
~
He turned a deaf ear to the manipulation. My Mamoru . . . so
this is where his strength comes from. He shakily stood on top of
the wall and then jumped down so that he was right in front of me.
"What will you say now?" he asked.
"Only this: I will find you one day. And I will love you." I
smiled at him, a genuine smile (for I told the truth; he would one
day be my beloved and my protector), and leaned into his arms. He
held me for only a moment, and then loosed me. I tilted my face to
the sky and chastely kissed his cheek. "Don't forget me?"
He was staring into me, almost past me, with an odd expression
on his face. Inexplicable joy danced across his eyes, and his soul
lit with the promise of something to live for. "I will never. . . ."
I heard a voice calling above the tempest, shouting my name.
"Mama is calling me."
"When will I see you again?" he whispered fearfully.
"Sooner than you think," I replied and winked at him, then
ran off, becoming nothing more than the fleeting breath of a shadow
against tumbling sheets of sky.
"I hope so. . . ." His murmured words followed my
puddled-footsteps shining in the lamplight, and they echoed in
my ears.
I didn't know how long it would be until I truly saw him
again, but I knew tomorrow held a thousand of secret . . . and I
knew I would find him when the time was right.
~
I could have saved you just as easily as she, little boy, in
the way you truly desired. Why did you not allow me to? Was the sea
not what you sought? Were your parents so unimportant?
~
Akuma, perhaps I didn't want you to, Mamoru thought fiercely.
Return to your mirrors. Leave me in peace! I will remember my
parents; and I will also remember that although the ocean claimed
their lives, it does not have to steal mine as well. I have a path
set before me, and I must walk it. You only try to make me stumble
and fall, sway my thoughts to the dark side when I desire light.
Leave me in peace and find another victim to torture. This soul has
found true salvation glowing in the halflight, pure, and longing for
me to stay alive. Put your gleaming knife of words down; you'll
deceive me no longer.
END
Well, weird as I thought it was?? *nods* That's what I was sure I'd
hear. In any case, even if you're just going to write to tell me I'm
absolutely insane, email me!
Loralei1300@aol.com
Oh, and while you're at it, you can visit my website:
http://www.geocities.com/makikoku_yume/index.html
*glomps* I love you all!!!! ^_~
-- Oh, and if you're wondering how Usagi knew things beyond her
years . . . as a very wise lady once commented with her story
_Forgive Me_, children's past lives show through more easily the
younger they are. So it's not surprising that Usagi forgot later
on . . . so shall I continue this tale? Or leave the rest to your
imaginations? Drop me a line so I'll know! :)
---------- Mirrored Demons (c) 8/12/01 Loralei Fairhill
Stealing is bad, minna, very, very bad. So don't ask for pain by
plagiarizing; I really don't want to do anything mean. ^^;;;;;;;;
(Plus, as you'll read on my website, I have two lawyers for parents,
and one of those lawyers is also a judge. Have I scared the would-be
plagiarists yet? Yes? Good. O.o)
By: Loralei Fairhill
Rated: PG
Genre: Reflection piece
I haven't done my take on Chiba Mamoru's parent's deaths yet. This
is a bit unconventional, but then I'm usually the one to try to
break out of such things. Read if you like, and I hope that which
you find disturbs you.
Email to: Loralei1300@aol.com
Thanks go out to Meredith for pre-reading. *hugs*
Just in case you don't get it, Akuma means devil, or demon, and
part of this story is told from its point of view from inside
Mamoru's thoughts.
"He is all alone, in his mouth the taste of ashes,
That he knows for the sum of his life;
And the only light, as he sits in the hollow darkness,
Is the gleaming edge of a knife."
--Chorus, "The House of Atreus"
[a translation of Aeschylus's Orestia]
Swing one foot forward, towards the abyss, and the other back
in perfect time, home again against the ledge. Unceasing in patterns,
back and forth, set in rapt contemplation of nothing more (or less)
than the thought of moving to a silent, knowing rhythm.
Swing the other back, toes curled against muddy sandals, caked
with dirt from walking the highway. Now shift closer to the edge, to
the sweet, empty night. Not all the way, but a bit nearer to the end.
It's enough to be this distance. Swing your feet again, little boy.
There is an air of desolation about you, of utter despair.
The wind has blown your midnight-crow hair so far back, but you do
not revel in its touch. The sea stares hungrily at you from below,
but you ignore its shivering, icy fingers reaching ever higher to
claim your small body for its own. No, little boy, you don't care.
Continue to swing your feet, and maybe move along the ledge a little
further from the land.
A permanent frown mars your brow, spider-lines in cloud-loops
stretching across your tiny forehead, as if you'd already experienced
the careworn adult world in the few years you've walked the Earth.
Is it so horrible, this life? I suppose it must be, for if you felt
even a glimmer of hope, you would not be here with me, would you?
Why exactly are you sitting in this frame of mind, I wonder?
Could it be that you actually regret your actions for the first time
in your young life, or is it only that you feel a sense of remorse
for your so-called "loved ones" that crossed the border from this
world to the next? No, no, let's not dwell on that. You can't feel
those emotions; you've become a warrior of ice, with barriers
impenetrable as the Fortress.
Yet there are other things that touch you: the feeling of
presents on Christmas morning when the snow has fallen so white
against the wet-black bark of the evergreen trees, a chocolate
ice-cream cone handed to you by your mother, a game of catch with
your father. Frivolous things, transient things. What would you see
if you pushed them together in front the mirror? They make up you,
a selfish little boy, always thinking of himself. Had to play outside
instead of helping mommy with the laundry. Had to beg daddy for
the new GI-Joe action figure instead of finishing your homework.
Disappointing soul, making parents angry enough to drive away in
their car together, causing them to lose their thoughts and swerve
to their deaths in the wildly starving and ferocious waves.
It's your fault they've gone, isn't it, little boy? Did you
ask for too much, did you think you'd get your heart's desires handed
to you on a pint-sized silver platter? Or was it just that you knew
they didn't love you, didn't want you, didn't need to save you? If
they had survived and you were gone, would they miss you? Your
crocodile tears, your mischief, and the way you continually disobeyed
them?
No. See for yourself in the mirrored sea, look into the
depths where their spirits now make their home: they are happy. And
they are without you.
That's life, that's your life. Is there any reason why you
should keep up this facade, this utterly pointless charade? Why not
just be done with it all? Swing your feet, ever closer to death.
Dusk, with firefly light dancing in and out of existence, and
crashing surf below does not bring a smile to your face. The air is
streaked with red, perhaps a vision of the future, of the past,
possibly of the present. Any time now, your motion will set your
body reeling, throwing you past the grasp of reality and any thoughts
of what you might have grown up to be. Don't fight this, little boy;
this is your destiny.
Dry-eyed, you were at their funeral. Pensive, the only family
member there, you watched (but did not see) their bodies being lowered
in oaken caskets into the cold, unforgiving earth. What would you
have done to go with them? Sold your soul to the Fallen Angel? Perhaps
that was your thought as you allowed the social worker to lead you
slowly away from the freshly overturned dirt of their graves.
It haunts you, to think of them as corpses caught, frozen in
time, in a pit gouged into the ground. There were nightmares after
the funeral, weren't there? And daydreams of parents buried alive
and screaming for release? How many times did you stumble over the
fact that they could be wakening in their coffins at this very moment?
There was no way to dispel the fear that they would do so and dig
free to find you.
You're almost there, little boy. One more inch, and your
tired, weak body will lose its hold on the edge. Then, nothing will
save you from the fall into the ocean. It will claim you as it did
your parents, and you will welcome its conquest.
~
One slight movement, and he would be gone. A miscalculation
in the stroke of his legs back and forth, and he would disappear
forever into a floating eternity. Could I truly let him die like
that, dashed against the frothing waves and the jagged points of
the rocks?
All he had to do was come back towards me. Just a bit at a
time . . . and I might save him yet. To convince him--would I be
able to? He may as well have already allowed his soul to fly free;
there was no will to live left in him.
Still, I had to try. For the woman I would become, I had to
try.
~
Now's the moment, little boy. Swing just a bit farther, and
eternity is yours.
~
"Mamoru, no!" I screamed as loudly as I could. He turned his
head slowly to look back at me, blue eyes luminous in the encroaching
dark.
"Something the matter?" he asked calmly. He blinked and
resumed kicking his legs. The spray wet his unruly hair a bit, a
foreshadowing of the moments to come.
"Yes. Move away from the edge," I pleaded, knowing I was
doing this in vain.
"Why should I? The sea welcomes me as its brother. I should
go to it like a good little boy. I'll be a good little boy for
once." He shook his head. "Are you trying to change my mind?"
"Yes! No, wait, it's not that . . . it's just . . . Mamoru,
please come nearer to me! The ocean, it's--"
"Beautiful, it's absolutely and completely beautiful. Why
shouldn't I want to be a part of it?" His eyes burned into mine,
demanding an answer. I had so little time left.
"Because you want to be with me. Because there is a sad little
girl waiting to love you in this world, and she'll never know you if
you drop off that ledge now." I was very close to tears. Regardless
of what I said or did, he would be gone in a few instants from now,
spiraling down to his demise.
"Who?" He seemed curious. "Why would they ever love me? I'm
evil. I killed my parents, and now I should join them. Besides, who
are you to tell me that someone would ever love me?" His laugh then
was bitter, full of self-hatred. I shuddered at the darkness it
emitted. "There's no one in the universe . . . no one at all in their
right mind who would feel that emotion for me." He turned back to
the sea, staring intently at its foaming mass.
"Of course there is!" I argued vehemently.
He smiled sardonically, the corners of his mouth frowning at
the same time. I shivered at its dark intensity. "Once again, I ask:
who? I want to see the imbecile who would take the chance to love me.
That's like--like playing dice against the Devil and throwing
doubles."
"Why do you say such things? Why do you think them? They're
not true--"
He shrugged. "Sure they are. Akuma always tells the truth.
He's been with me ever since they fell. He says I should join them
because no one would ever love me. Now you say someone does, someone
will, and I demand: who?"
Now or never, Usagi, I thought despairingly. "I would. Me,
Mamoru, just me." The wind chose this particular moment to pick up
and blow hard enough to undo the two small twin buns on either side
of my head. My hair flared around me like a cape, or a strange sort
of halo.
"You?" He laughed again, this time with a bit more mirth. "I
find that highly amusing. You're lying. And besides, I don't care
about you. I don't even know you!" He scooted closer to the edge, a
breath away from succeeding in his tormentor's plan.
I took a step closer. It was starting to rain now, small,
glass-shard drops that hit my skin like liquid mercury and burned as
they pelted onto my face. "I can't prove it now. I want to, but I
can't . . . you'll see soon! I promise, I promise! Just . . . please
stay here, with me, in this life. If you jump . . . if you fall . . .
I may have to wait so long to find you again! Mamoru. . . ." The tears
began, mingling salt with clear water falling from the heavens. Did
the angels share my sentiments? Were they together with me in my
infinite sorrow?
"Promise?" He shoved himself a bit away from the sea's
whorling maelstrom. "I promised them I'd be good. But was I ever?
No. How can I trust you if I can't trust myself?"
"I'll follow you!" I shrieked, not even realizing how foolish
I sounded. "I'll jump right off after you, so I won't lose you again.
The future will mean nothing to me without you by my side. Mamoru!"
A sudden gust slammed against my chest and tore the words from my
mouth, pouring bitter gray water onto my tongue.
Suddenly, he understood. My rash statement had broken through
his walls of silent agony. He breathed heavily into the teeming rain,
his breath steaming clouds into the cooling air. "You . . . do . . .
feel something for me."
~
Little boy, what are you thinking? Stop walking towards her!
She will only trick you. The way to salvation is not in her; it is
with the waters, it is with me! Little boy!! Little boy!!
~
He turned a deaf ear to the manipulation. My Mamoru . . . so
this is where his strength comes from. He shakily stood on top of
the wall and then jumped down so that he was right in front of me.
"What will you say now?" he asked.
"Only this: I will find you one day. And I will love you." I
smiled at him, a genuine smile (for I told the truth; he would one
day be my beloved and my protector), and leaned into his arms. He
held me for only a moment, and then loosed me. I tilted my face to
the sky and chastely kissed his cheek. "Don't forget me?"
He was staring into me, almost past me, with an odd expression
on his face. Inexplicable joy danced across his eyes, and his soul
lit with the promise of something to live for. "I will never. . . ."
I heard a voice calling above the tempest, shouting my name.
"Mama is calling me."
"When will I see you again?" he whispered fearfully.
"Sooner than you think," I replied and winked at him, then
ran off, becoming nothing more than the fleeting breath of a shadow
against tumbling sheets of sky.
"I hope so. . . ." His murmured words followed my
puddled-footsteps shining in the lamplight, and they echoed in
my ears.
I didn't know how long it would be until I truly saw him
again, but I knew tomorrow held a thousand of secret . . . and I
knew I would find him when the time was right.
~
I could have saved you just as easily as she, little boy, in
the way you truly desired. Why did you not allow me to? Was the sea
not what you sought? Were your parents so unimportant?
~
Akuma, perhaps I didn't want you to, Mamoru thought fiercely.
Return to your mirrors. Leave me in peace! I will remember my
parents; and I will also remember that although the ocean claimed
their lives, it does not have to steal mine as well. I have a path
set before me, and I must walk it. You only try to make me stumble
and fall, sway my thoughts to the dark side when I desire light.
Leave me in peace and find another victim to torture. This soul has
found true salvation glowing in the halflight, pure, and longing for
me to stay alive. Put your gleaming knife of words down; you'll
deceive me no longer.
END
Well, weird as I thought it was?? *nods* That's what I was sure I'd
hear. In any case, even if you're just going to write to tell me I'm
absolutely insane, email me!
Loralei1300@aol.com
Oh, and while you're at it, you can visit my website:
http://www.geocities.com/makikoku_yume/index.html
*glomps* I love you all!!!! ^_~
-- Oh, and if you're wondering how Usagi knew things beyond her
years . . . as a very wise lady once commented with her story
_Forgive Me_, children's past lives show through more easily the
younger they are. So it's not surprising that Usagi forgot later
on . . . so shall I continue this tale? Or leave the rest to your
imaginations? Drop me a line so I'll know! :)
---------- Mirrored Demons (c) 8/12/01 Loralei Fairhill
Stealing is bad, minna, very, very bad. So don't ask for pain by
plagiarizing; I really don't want to do anything mean. ^^;;;;;;;;
(Plus, as you'll read on my website, I have two lawyers for parents,
and one of those lawyers is also a judge. Have I scared the would-be
plagiarists yet? Yes? Good. O.o)