A/N: Written for the Digimon Flash Bingo, #623 – lost in my own back yard.
Skeletons Under the Soil
Hadn't he known this place before?
Hadn't he claimed it for himself? His utopia? His garden, in which the games were played by his rules?
Wasn't that there his throne that he'd sat upon watching the chaotic tea party and hoping they settled down before the dessert?
Hadn't he commandeered it all? Ruled it all?
But he didn't know this place now. It felt like he'd walked through once and then forgotten bits and pieces and mostly important things. If someone gave him a tour he'd probably say "I remember that" or "that" or "that", but he wouldn't be able to give a tour himself. He'd simply stop in the middle of the desert and stare, blankly, wondering which way he should go, which way he was supposed to go, which way he wanted to go…
It had been quite presumptuous to call the place his garden, his backyard. Maybe it was a sort of karma that now made him a stranger to it all.
No, there was a place ahead. And he remembered it. Not a stranger to every blade of grass after all –
But he was not proud at all of what he remembered when he got there: the skeletons under the soil.