This is my first effort at a fic in….forever. Also the first fic posted on and first YGO one that wasn't a one shot. So, be nice, will ya? R&R, please?
He wandered through the house almost absently, touching and poking at whatever caught his interest.
Come on, someone (something?) urged. Come play... It trailed off uncertainly, obviously wondering if, this time, he would give in.
He paid no attention to it, whatever it was, absently humming snatches of long forgotten songs, and continued through the house, stopping for a minute in the kitchen. Everything was just as it had been yesterday, and the same as the day before that. Feeling slightly hungry, he picked up a bruised apple, the red flesh darkening to brown around the stem.
Swiping half heartedly at the dust gathered on the apple, he took a bite, not noticing when the taut skin of the fruit did not break under the pressure of his teeth, or when it failed to taste like an apple should, as no matter how old or bruised said piece of fruit was, an apple shouldalways taste crisp and clean.
Once again abandoning the kitchen to the elements, he started for the stairs, half aware of the urging voice that had started up again, taunting and pleading for him to come play.
Soon the stairs had ended, and he was standing in front of a peeling door painted a light blue.
Please, come play. I want to play...don't you?
He didn't open the door. It wasn't necessary for him to; he simply stepped through it. The room was just like the kitchen, just like the rest of the house; he looked around, his interest peaking a little. The covers of the bed were still rumpled, as though someone had gotten up in a hurry; there were still clothes scattered on the carpet, sharing space with old toys and well-cared-for-yet abandoned games; the posters were hanging innocently, the characters depicted on the curling paper ignorant of the dark stains covering their forms.
But there was something wrong about the whole scene. He knew there was. Interest turning to panic slowly, he took a second, closer look at the room, coming through the door completely. There was no light. There was no hikari... It was just shadows, covering the room, hiding the hikari from him.
Desperately, he ignored the voice that was begging him now, and commanded the shadows to part, to give back the light he needed to balance out his darkness, the light he loved...And the shadows didn't listen.
They didn't give him back his hikari, couldn't give back something that had been gone for so long. Something that was dead. Just as they didn't listen to those who were twice dead, even if it was the king of games, even if it was the spirit of a pharaoh they had long ago given their alliance to.
He didn't know, and continued to order, coax, and finally try to plead with the shadows that had once been under his command, until, finally, he gave up, and returned to the kitchen, where he went through the cycle over and over, still listening, still ignoring the pleading voice of Yuugi. Yuugi who had been killed three weeks earlier along with his grandfather in a freak accident on their way home from grocery shopping.
And so, a twice dead spirit wandered the house, remembering, pleading, and forgetting about the being who had brought him back to the lands of the living and sane. He was alone, left to the insane and persistent voices of madness that his light had kept at bay.
Come play with me, please?
Umm, yeah. My only defense is that this is from a dream most likely influenced by Evanescence. hides