Aaaand we're back! Here's to the start of a new story. I promise you, it'll get better after this chapter! There are more things in store in the future-- a lot of them.
Enjoy the crappy beginning!
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The first thing he heard were crashes of thunder. Then he saw the lightning. It was white, pure; streaking across pitch black skies with no clouds from which to harvest the energy. It was as if the heavens themselves were shattering and repairing in each milisecond it took to light up the barren earth, forever stalemated in a battle with the forceful light outside its ebony barriers. He felt shivers squirm down his spine at the thought of what would happen should one or the other falter, leading their enemy to victory.
As his feet shifted at the crack of sudden thunder, dust exploded into the air around him, coaxing out a few short coughs. The dry ground, barren of life and hope, served for nothing but an empty wasteland for the lost and damned to wander in search of pointless meaning. But pointless as meaning was in a world without a word of comfort or love-- or even insult, it was still meaning; and maybe it would lead to forgiveness for his transgressions. Perhaps it would be his second chance, or third-- or however many his tainted soul was up to. Still... Even if it wasn't... It was still an answer. He knew that much. He knew he would still be searching, and he didn't know when-- or if he would ever find what he was looking for. But, each new moment was a new chance to find out. Each door was an opportunity.
The world worked like that, didn't it?
The dust was becoming unbearable. Each twitch as a response to the raging war above brought a new cloud into the air around him, making it hard to breathe. He was choking, eyes watering and chest becoming pained. He raised a hand to grip his shirt, stopping when he realized that his head wasn't pounding. In fact, his heart wasn't racing at all...
As he attempted to feel over his chest and find the pulse, a loud clack took his attention, eyes snapping over to his left. The dust was clearing, and in its wake was... a doorframe. There was no door there, simply empty space, the same on the other side as it had been before the dust had taken to the sky. But why was it there?
His footsteps suddenly were no longer pulling up the loose earth below him as he stepped toward that wooden frame. Each door... was an opportunity, he thought as he touched the frame. As if upsetting the world around him, some unknown force threw him back several yards, sending him rolling and tumbling on the ground. As he landed on his back, he stared up at the sky. His eyes widened at the sight of rapidfire lightning, and soon the whole sky was a webwork that not even the most skilled black widow could begin to compare to. The war was intensifying above him, and in this final battle, he knew the winner would be decided. And that was exactly what occurred, as one piece of pure dark fell straight out of the sky. The light poured down, streaking through the dust and dark and putting a spotlight right on his shaking body. He rolled forward and onto his feet--
--just in time to miss being crushed by the obsidian shard of sky.
He stood, petrified with horror as the light prevailed, sending piece after piece of the atmosphere down at him. Each one hit hard, almost sending him back onto his behind, and he fought with every desperate part of him to keep his balance as the dust clouded his vision. He waved his arms in front of him, trying to breathe through the veil of dirt, turning with squinted eyes to try to see what was where. The light was becoming mottled, but as he heard another clack and turned, he was met with hope and escape. The path to the doorframe was completely clear of any obstructions.
He started on the clear way, eyes continuously glancing upward to the sky. As he neared the door, the final pieces of the heavens fell. He broke into a sudden sprint and began racing the black slabs of the world's apocalypse. It was either be crushed, or escape... and he planned to survive. But his escape was endangered by the falling rocks as well. He slid on the ground, getting to the frame just as the weight of the sky itself splintered and shattered the wood. His arms flew up to cover his face as the black void came over him and--
Seafoam eyes shot open, body lurching upright. The sheets fell from the milk-white skin of his chest, and Riku raised his hand to cover the left side of his face, fingers stretching into his bangs and over his eye. He shook his head, breaths moving shakily through him. He then threw his sheets off, slipping out of the bed and going to the large, arching window. He gripped the jet-black fabric of the sheets and pulled them back, sending blinding sunlight through the dark room. The white mid-morning light brought everything to life-- the loveseat, bookshelf, dressers, closet door, canopy bed, and the desk in the far corner of the large space.
With a sigh, Riku made his way to the closet, picking out his outfit for the day and changing into the grey jeans and white shirt, slipping the thin black jacket overtop and calling it good. His footsteps were unheard as he padded down the steps to the kitchen, sliding into view of the fridge, then the pantry, then the cabinet. It was cereal again this morning, but he wasn't complaining. If he were a little less lazy, he'd be making a mess of the kitchen at every opportunity. When he first woke up, he wanted simplicity for himself. And on days like this, when he had the large house to himself, it was a luxury just to sit in the parlor with a bowl of cereal and milk and not have to worry about looking proper or putting his feet up on the couch or the coffee table.
Which he did as soon as he sat down.
Still, though, he couldn't fully enjoy his time alone this morning. That was the third time this week he'd had a dream like that. They were always so... real. He didn't know if he could classify them as nightmares, even. They were more like windows into a sub-reality that was just beyond his actual fingertips. Maybe that was what frightened him so much; such powerful things might be just beyond the reach of his consciousness, and who knew what would happen if he moved to far away? Would he be thrown into a world like that, with ultimately no escape from the wars being waged? It was a little much to bite into, yeah, but... he felt something in those dreams was dangerously true.
--not that he'd let anyone else know these things. Riku had more important things to care about than the night's mysteries. He had a whole day of relaxation ahead of him. His parents were going to be gone for the rest of the day. He'd be alone, allowed to do whatever he could get away with. There were no errands to run, no chores to do... He was a free man. He was a single-standing, free soul--
He was spilling his breakfast.
The sudden ringing that filled the air and the buzzing of his pants pocket was not only awkward, but startling to the highest degree when one was stuck in an empty, silent room. He scrambled, trying to clean up most of the mess before he groped for the source of the abomination to sound that was concealed in his now-wet pocket. He managed to get it out and answer it just before it stopped ringing, not getting a chance to see who it was. Riku threw out a quick 'hello?', but with no reply. He tried to get a response twice more before giving a short curse and hanging up, tossing the phone onto the couch.
Some days, he hated cellphones.
Looking down at himself, the teen sighed and went to the kitchen to find paper towels. Spotting them in their usual place on the counter, he went to grab a few, heading back and cleaning up the mess. As he brought everything back into the kitchen, setting the bowl and spoon in the sink and throwing away the used paper towels, he glanced at his pants. They needed to be washed now, and he couldn't wear them around.
Riku ran up to his room to change, slipping into a looser pair of blue jeans. The grey ones were flung over his arm, and he moved back down the stairs, making a quick stop to the laundry room. He laid out the jeans, looking for the stain removal spray his parents kept. As he turned, Riku managed to do the one thing he didn't need to do: his elbow hit the bottle of bleach sitting on top of the dryer, and as it hit the washing machine next to it, the cap cracked, leaking out the bleach-- all over his favorite jeans.
The exasperated teen groaned loudly. "You've got to be kidding me...." He went back to the kitchen, taking care of the same routine with clean-up and going to the front door. Next to the door were a few pairs of shoes, and he found his own to slip into. So much for a relaxation day. Now he had to go to the store to replace both his pants and the bottle of bleach... maybe the roll of paper towels, as well.
Stepping into the parlor one last time to grab his cellphone, just in case, he made his way to and out the front door.
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Obviously, my allergies and lack of sleep are causing my writing to fail seriously. But I swear, I'll get back on track. It's probably also a little tougher, writing as Riku, since I usually write as Axel or Roxas.
But anyway, there are plenty more characters on the lineup and plenty of plot! So stay tuned for chapter two~
~Remi~