A/N :Yeah, so this is a modified version of my story for my English writing contest. It's female-Naruto talking.
A Wish
Do you wish that, perhaps, if given another chance, you can do things differently? Did you reach for the forbidden fruit, only to discover that it will grant you your dearest wish in exchange of your soul?
Well, I did. Day after day, I kept praying, wishing for something that I knew would never happen, finding solace in the fact that if reality is not what I want it to be, at least I can dream. However, I did not want money, fortune, or even a better life than that of a poor farmer's daughter. No, what I once yearned for is fare more than any of those. I longed for something that's considered a sin; I knew it, and yet, even when I desperately tried to forget it, to let it go, it kept coming back, haunting me. It hurt more than anything, to know that your dearest wish will never be fulfilled. I can bleed, I can scream at this unfairness and no one would care. I was nothing after all. Why couldn't my voice be heard?
My wish is one that God disapproves of, one that His justice and the religion forbid. By creating us, He gave us life; by granting us the right to live, He gave us the power to create; and by creating, we humans were able to feel. To love. So tell me, us who are all equal under His all-seeing eyes, why don't we have the right to love freely?
I was a monster; I at least knew that much. It was not my appearance: my hair, color of the sun and of the royal family, was envied by everyone, and I knew that I was far from being ugly. No, it was my eyes: I was told that I once had those of my father, blue as the sky. But now, they were golden with a hint of purple. Mother's eyes had been purple, father always said. It was the only thing I got from her, the sole reminder of a clan lost in the ages of human wars. When I'm angry, they would shift to a bloody red, and all around me would freeze; over time, I learned to control this power through trials and errors, but was it worth it? If I never attempted to dominate my other side, then maybe I could have allowed the beast inside my to destroy everything. Because destruction was beautiful: seas of flames would lick my feet, and human screams would fill my thirst. And then, I could satiate my hunger with blood and fear. I would feel proud and powerful, like mother's clan once was.
But I couldn't. One look at those pitiful humans remind me of what I am.
A monster, trapped between two worlds. I am chained, restrained by my human blood, while my kind roam free. I could be free as well, flying up in the sky, walking the desert lands, swimming in the vast oceans. But I didn't.
My mother was a demon in human disguise, a kind and soft demon that saw the good in anything. In war times, she would appear, glorious and heavenly, healing the injured and killing the enemy. She was the Red Death, but to this country, she was seen as God's vengeful hand. A beautiful, pure and untainted maiden whose power has no equal. But her heart was soft, and so she fell. She abandoned everything for a human, for a prince whose courage and power had seduced her; she was a demon after all, and demons will only accept those who can control them. My father, general at that time, had already fought countless battles beside her despite his young age. He was the Hero, the Savior, the Yellow flash.
But fate is always cruel.
Mankind's justice condemns blindly, unforgiving to those who err. The same justice ruined my father, accusing him of loving a woman of God, and killed my mother for being 'tainted' by the evil. But tell me, what is evil in love? What is wrong with bearing a life that's the result of that love? What is there to be judged in loving that baby? In loving me?
My father, since the day of my accursed birth, was persecuted by his own family and stripped of all his possessions. Lands, money, fame, loyalty... everything. Because of me. He, once the prince and the heir to the throne of our country, became a condemned man chased from his own home. I still remember the first and only time I met my relatives: disgust was the impression they left me. And so I grew up, the harshness of reality following me like my shadow, the weight of the world on my shoulders, as if dragging me down to Hell; maybe it really was, but I can't bring myself to care, not after my salvation sank into the bottomless waters of Lethe.
I never asked for anything; nonetheless, I once had a wish, one that I saw as my own Noah's ark. I noticed that my father was lacking something important, something impossible for me to give; I can never replace my mother after all, not when I'm so similar to her that father wasn't able to look at me without flinching. But my once human heart continued to hope.
And so the seed of evil was sowed.
I wished that there was still place in his heart for me to fill, and that my own soul was released from the emptiness that was my heart. I wanted to be able to make him whole, no matter how wrong that is. He's like the moon, pale and unreachable, yet still enveloping me in its tender warmth, and that moon was never far away in my dreams; but they are just that, simple facts that my mind twisted to my own desires.
I wanted to help him while I was incomplete; I knew that the wish that's consuming me from within was impossible, and yet I still wanted it to be reality; I believed in God, but I went against the teaching of those who condemn in his stead. At that time, the fire of desire was still burning deep in my heart, dancing, destroying everything in its path, warming my cold heart, oh so beautifully, dangerously alluring...
Then, on the day where the white world was painted scarlet, that seldom wish shattered like glass.
I suddenly felt laughter escape my dry throat and I painfully craned my head to look at the sky; the warm sun stared back at me, as if taunting me. It was a bitter chuckle, barely audible in the mindless yelling of the crowd around me; it soon turned into a shaky laugh, one that contained genuine amusement. Snow was slowly falling, not unlike that day, and I realized that a year had passed since then. I watched the event currently going on with a detached feeling, as if I wasn't in my body. I saw many people throwing rocks, some going as far as delivering the blow themselves, laughing and clapping hands as they hit the target; said target was me. The pain that came with everything was not felt; I can see the blood dripping from my wounds, the pool of red-hued life ambrosia below my dangling feet so beautifully crimson, a sharp contrast against the black and white world. And I suddenly realized with something I couldn't describe that my heart now feel colder than ever: the fire there melted into ice the second I realized that my hope was futile. Was it on that day? Was it when father let me go? Or was it when I was declared culpable of something I didn't do? I mentally shook my head: why ask when no one will ever answer?
I saw a person holding a torch walk up to me, his eyes sad, almost asking for forgiveness; I vaguely remember him as the man I was promised to, the son of some greedy merchant who somehow learned of my lost heritage.
''Any last wish before you die, demon?''
I saw myself spit in his face. Now furious, he rammed his fist in my stomach, and I felt the air leave my lungs, the scorching pain bringing tears to my eyes; I only laughed even more, like a broken recorder, only interrupted by several pathetically weak coughs.
Now bored, I let my eyes slowly wander in the crowd before they settled on my executioner's young face. His hazel eyes looked so... human. I smiled tiredly at him, knowing by his expression that he saw the glint of madness in my dead eyes.
''Then...then, let me dream.''
The world erupted into beautiful swirls of red and orange, and I saw a small white bird flap its wings toward the endless blue sky before everything went black for the last time.
Long ago, I dreamt of a wish. Within the dream I never knew... That I destroyed a very precious treasure...
