A/N: It took me only around fifteen minutes to write this. I was in the mood for procrastination, and when I just monologue the initial storyline of this fic, the plot just played out on its own so I decided to type it out. Why Madoka Magica though, you may ask, since I've never written any related fics before this. It's because I was initially typing out this fic using the MadokaRune font that I had just installed as part of my procrastination effort.

Please imagine that this is the translation of a Witch's story, translated from MadokaRune (the illegible font that the names of the witches are in)

It happened too quickly.

Unattended.

Along with an absent sense of danger.

Papa was out at work.

Mama was humming along to her favourite tune, cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

I was in my room, unaware of what was happening. Unaware of the weak voice that could barely shout for help.

In the pool.

It was only found hours later, the moment papa got home from his work.

He thought it was a bag of dead leaves the naughty boys from the neighbourhood tossed into our pool.

He approached it, wanting to pull it out with a fallen branch.

Then, he saw it.

The colour of the pool, as though the grey hole of depression, stained papa's face grey as well.

It was a body.

It was my kid brother.

He is my brother.

My kin.

The joy of my life.

Anything could be done, as long as he comes back.

I laid my soul bare, revealing its naked form as a gem upon my palm.

I was congratulated by something I don't understand. 'it' looked disgusting even though it was white and pink.

My brother is alive again.

My only joy in life.

Joy, which my family did not accept.

Understanding broke down.

They simply could not comprehend their giggling little boy's bubbly energy, when he had clearly died hours ago.

My brother. He was chased out of the house, my parents convinced that this child is of someone else's.

Abandoned, along the streets.

As he cried on the road, a car knocked him down.

Crushed him, beneath its tires. Blood, thicker and redder than anything else oozed out slowly from somewhere.

He was a drunk driver.

Too drunk to see, too drunk to even notice.

It was stupid.

My brother was revived immediately with the solidification of my soul, killed just as quickly by a car accident.

No.

DO NOT ACCEPT.

I killed the asshole.

I had fun.

His blood reeked of alcohol. Disgusting and revolting, as compared to my brother's, which is pooling in a shimmering pure red.

I am not sure how I would have looked, but I must have the happiest smile in the world on my face.

I staggered over to my brother's body, his killer's battered head in my chest.

Why I had staggered, I do not know.

I looked over, into the rich red blood of my brother's.

I do not see myself.

What looked back at me from the scarlet depths was a monster.

…

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