A/N:
The Alien is writing drabbles in a cementery because she is bored as hell. This is posted a day late because she had a killer headache the night before. Don't count on a lot of stuff written in this style, she was mostly experimenting.
Disclaimer: Don't own Death Note.
It's almost his birthday. Just a couple of minutes. Tick tock, goes the clock. He doesn't remember, though, why is he waiting. Instead, his memories form a picture for him.
He doesn't remember the kind smiles and gaudy decorations, the words "Trick-or-treat!" echoing around the whole neighborhood and the heavenly smell of sweets heavily permeating the air.
He remembers costumed kids jeering at him, unkind laughter flowing from their lips, accompanied with hurtful insults.
He doesn't remember the faces of his parents, always watching him from a distance, ensuring his safety and well-being.
He remebers the faces of their killers, the men who robbed their house of valuables, including his parents' lives.
He doesn't remeber his birthday cake, lavishly decorated and painstakingly created, presented to him with wide smiles on both parents' faces.
He remembers eating it alone, slouched on the floor, as he sits next to their forever unmoving corpses.
He doesn't remember his neighbors' fake sympathy, and the hushed whipers behind his back.
He remembers an old man who picked him up from the police station where he spent the night, who introduced himself as Quillsh Wammy.
He doesn't remember why he agreed to go with that man.
He remembers that it was supposed to be his birthday, that day.
.
Then the clock strikes 12, and he hums that odd little tune to himself.
"Happy Birthday, Lawliet."
End Note: Well that was short. The Alien might decide to improve this when her muse decides she needs to. Thanks for the reviews/constructive criticism/flames etc.
'Odd little tune' - refers to the tune of 'Happy Birthday'.
