Okay… So… This wasn't really supposed to turn out this way, but it's too late to go back. I really should have done something more with the ending, but I got angry at this stupid, mean, uncooperative story, so I said "to hell with it" (seriously) and I just posted it… Sorry, my poor, poor little readers…
Umm, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated, but I'm not so sure I deserve nice ones this time. This is really not my best work. Please don't judge me just by one little one-shot. It's raw and unedited. Something I wrote five minutes ago…
…Enjoy…?
It was dark. It was warm. It was safe. This was his world. And he liked it that way.
But wait! Something was wrong! The walls of his home were moving! He was moving. And then images… Flashes of things unknown and frightening: A woman- mother. A man- father. Smiling. Then… Fire! Great orange, and yellow, and red, and blue tongues of it rising higher and higher! Burning. Consuming. Destroying. Everything… Then…
Black.
Although he had not perception of time, he knew something had changed. He, himself had changed. He was bigger now. The ground was farther away, and everything around him seemed smaller. He was still alive. The fire had not taken him. But his mother and father… Gone.
That same fire was nothing now, except a faint glimmer of horror in the… Past… And of the man and woman, he knew nothing. He had been too young. And the fire had eclipsed all memory of the people who had given him life.
Now he was moving toward a huge stone building. It was covered in intricate carvings. Words and pictures both. There was a sort of metal cross set atop the sloping roof. Orphanage. He was brought to two gigantic wood doors, and was thrust forward to an old woman in a black and white gown. As the doors began to close, he felt the claw-like hands of the old woman clamp down on his shoulders, bruising him. He winced, and tried to turn back, looking for the person who had brought him here- a young man with black hair.
He was already gone.
This was a bad place. There were many women in black and white. And even more people like himself- children. But the women beat these children with long wooden sticks, and made them sit still for hours at a time, talking to the air.
GOD! LORD ALMIGHTY! THE FATHER!
These words came at him in a rush. That was who he was forced to talk to. His Father. His very own Father.
Blackness.
More time passed.
But all was dark.
And then, years and years later, a shining light tore through the darkness and shot strait to his heart. Red hair. Large green eyes. Stripes and some sort of… device… Always that device… He perceived the word beautiful. And for the first time, the word was accompanied by something else. A strange but not altogether unpleasant feeling of warmth in his chest and stomach. It was consuming and intoxicating. Love. Who was this being that inspired such pleasant feelings? But the visions yielded nothing. He would find this person somehow, but he would have to do it on his own.
And again the passage of time; but no longer the black.
A whirling, screaming chaos of color and sound surrounded him. Enveloped him in its… What? Vibrance. Youth.
Yes.
Through this chaos, he observed several things: death; inevitability; misery. These things were almost too terrible to understand. Next to love, these were the only things that created any feeling. After each one, his tiny body was left aching and his young soul wounded.
And then… Something else. He could feel the vision coming to a close. But no! It couldn't be! If things were ending then…
Car. Woman. Evil. Notebook… KIRA.
He saw himself. He saw a woman with a notebook. And every fiber of his small being cried out in unison:
KIRA
KILLER
DEATH
He felt the pain in his chest of the fatal heart attack, and knew what he was seeing. He was bearing witness to his own death. And the death of the woman who caused it because a moment later-
The vision stopped. The vital flow of information ceased.
He felt a strange pressure on his head and… What? No! No!
He was leaving the dark warmth of the only home he'd ever known and entering a bright, synthetic world full of cruelty and death and terror and loneliness and pain and all the unimaginable suffering which is life.
But the worst part: the sheer uselessness of it all. All the suffering is for nothing. Because death is all there is. Once all the horridness is over, that's all that's left. Inescapable, inevitable, inexorable death.
The final blackness.
And in a moment of horrible lucidity, he knew that this was what awaited him. This and nothing else. All the things he had seen and learned in his visions were only what might be. Death was the only certainty in the world he was being dragged into.
Nothing else mattered.
Because nothing else was.
And so Mihael Kheel was born, knowing exactly how and when he would die.
shakes head…
I don't know. It's Easter, and I was thinking about a chick in an egg, then I thought about Mello, then they sorta… kinda mixed together and created this weird hybrid-mutant-thing…
Anyway, thanks for reading, and as always, any sort of review is appreciated.
