Oh, Guido everybody! Yeah, just don't ask…it'll make you look smarter. This is Your.Boyfriends.Gynecologist speaking and lemme tell ya, his 'downstairs' is looking great, though you may wanna slow ya roll a little bit next time. He can only take so much lovin'. Alright, now that that's over, I'd like to introduce you to my first story, which is also a one-shot, "Listen to the Rhythm…". Woo, go me! .:No one claps:. Alright…but we'll see who gets the last laugh…but this isn't comedy so…yeah…YOU SHUT UP!

Anyways, I wrote this entire thing last night, so I'm kinda sleepy, so if I make any grammatical or spelling mistakes, it's because I did not care enough to correct he mistake, so bare with me. Have you ever had the sudden spark of inspiration and it comes at, like, the most random time? Well, mine came to me on, where else, the toilet. A little too much information for ya? Well, you already read it so now you'll have to live with it. So, Hah! .:Taunting eight-year-old laugh:. Don't you just wanna wring my neck?

Ok, all playing aside, this story isn't really all that humorous, hence it being in the drama category. ((Come on get together people, I can't carry you the entire way.)) Actually, it is the least bit humorous…ah well… But if you want funny, just look at my hilarious counterpart's story, "Brotherly Luv", or the even funnier, "The Legend Continues" ((both authored by thugette90)). And now…onto the story.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Teen Titans. But if I did I would go on the greatest, most childish rant in the history of time. It would be something like this. .:Face appears on all TVs all over the world:. ".:Loud overbearing voice:. Attention people of the world! I own the Teen Titans! Heh heh heh heh heh heh….I own the Teen Titans and you don't!" Alright…glad that's over aren't you?

THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO "THUGETTE90" FOR FINALLY PUSHING ME TO THE POINT OF WRITING A STORY. AND FOR BEING ONE OF THE MOST "INTERESTING FRIENDS" YOU COULD WISH FOR.

Listen to the Rhythm…

"It rained the very hour she died. Each crystalline drop, pelting the heaven's sorrows across the ground. Gray clouds swirled menacingly above, making it clear that the sheets of water would persist for days on end. It was understandable though, for the more spiritual thinking. The heavens were weeping. They had lost their earthen bound angel…

Her funeral was very quick, just as her death had been. The white sheet over her body mimicked her features to the extent that it seemed she was still alive, just in a deep sleep, waiting for her prince to come and wake her. However, her cold, stone corpse gave no expression. Her eyes remained closed, fixated in their sockets, staring into her eyelids for an eternity. The body under the shroud remained so deathly silent, so motionless. ((A/N: Pun not intended.))

Those that wished to come, quite few there were, dabbed at the corners of their tearing eyes, with dampened tissues, and sniveled in the most dignified of manners, as they stood, surrounding the hospital bed, in which her lifeless corpse lay. Her death bed. Ironic? Maybe so. Time seemed to stand still as the rain graced the windowpane, only a few feet away from her bedside.

A melancholy aura grasped the white washed ro-"

"No, no, no!" A shrill and clearly frustrated voice squealed, cutting at the wind like a thoroughly sharpened dagger. A slender, oddly-pigmented hand held a small, worn, wooden pencil tightly, nearly twitching, as it began to scribble unmercifully on the papers it's owner had been bent over for hours on end.

A naked bulb hung from the ceiling, swinging to and fro, revealing unpleasant scenes of haphazard boxes and other bundles cast askew in a hardly furnished room. Boxes stood, stacked in every corner, standing as cardboard edifices on the hardwood, mahogany colored floor. The steady low buzz of a crackling radio leaned in and out of tune at random intervals. The drooping wallpaper that covered the walls, which were colored a simple gray pigment, were very depressing, however the weather wasn't exactly enhancing its appearance any.

Menacing, but quiet clouds hung lazily outside of the small, melancholy apartment's window. It was more like a small glass square attached to the wall, for the architect's amusement. It served absolutely no purpose rather than to give the people that resided inside of the apartment a cruel taste of the outside world, as the barred windows of a prison do.

A darkened sigh escaped the dried lips of the young woman who resided in the 'hell-hole', as some might've proclaimed it. The wooden pencil in her hand had somehow found its way into her mouth as her seemingly, spotless teeth nibbled at the eraser. The only reason she endured the taste was, quite frankly, because the 'tangy, sour zip' appealed to her strange palette. A small cup, of what appeared to be mustard, lay on her desk in a chaotic fashion. An obviously used spoon stuck out of its mouth, resting on the rim of the cup. The cup stood next to her papers. "I'll never complete this task in time.", she sighed, bending back over her, now-ruined, work. Random scribbles marked each page, each telling the very same story of frustration and madness.

Moments, hollow moments, passed before any movement was visible throughout the entire prison…apartment. The strange, young woman shuffled her papers and leaned back on the legs of her chair. It creaked under her weight. The gray sweatshirt she was wearing began to press closer to her body, as her eyes watched the light bulb above her move across her face and then somewhere else. The shadows being cast elongated and retracted across the walls.

It took her a while for her legs to return into the world of movement, but the young woman rose herself back onto the four legs of her chair with a loud thump. She rose herself from the desk and pushed the chair in with a very liquid movement. Raising her hand to the light switch, she pulled the protruding plastic down, causing a simultaneous chain of events to counteract, ending in her light bulb turning off. ((A/N: For the slow people, she turned the light off. Lol.)) Darkness flooded the apartment, with the exception of the munificent light that shined in from the window. The floor whined and moaned under every generous step that was made towards the bedroom.

An oddly timed glint, shimmered at the end of the darkened hallway. "That's odd. I've yet to furnish the hallway," she thought, stopping abruptly. An involuntary, cold shiver resounded down her spine as she watched quietly in the darkness for another glint to confirm her, horror-movie compiled, fears. After a few seconds of regrouping, light footsteps could be heard, but at a much slower, seemingly, more cautious pace. The end of the hallway looked so hopelessly far away.

Approaching the doorway to her bedroom, which was barely furnished at all, she felt a bit of tension in her step.

Immediately, she stopped, her eyes fixated upon a clearly amorphous figure across the room. The young woman was without and expression, but a look of pure fear shrouded and dimmed her eyes, which stared at the figure with an unwavering flare. Raising her hand, her fingers began to emit an aura, bathing the room in purple light.

Before she could make the offensive move her mind had been plotting, though, a green flash of light coming from the other side of the room resulted in her right arm being slightly scathed. A single strain of thick blood ran down her arm. Gripping her injury by the hand, she merely watched as the figure made it's way towards her. Her mouth opened to take a chance at a scream, but it was cut off into a minuscule yelp by a rough, yet graceful hand. "Hello sister…" A sweet, familiar voice emitted from the lips of the figure. Then silence…Silence filled the room as Starfire gripped her sister's sable colored hair. As second nature, Blackfire struggled, writhing her body about, while her sister's hand kept her from screaming. It all stopped though, all the moving, all the struggling, all the innocence was removed, when Starfire placed a chillingly soulless hand on her cheek. "I wish you 'good night', sister dear…" The same voice said, though it was darkened to the extent of making it sound demonic. Cold metal pressed against her neck, Blackfire could feel it slide effortlessly across her skin, tearing through it in an unforgiving manner. She felt a sincere numbness as her windpipe bled for all it was worth, spilling its red contents across her body and anything else within reach. It only took seconds for the minor slit across her throat to open into a gaping hole, spewing lines of the red life essence. Not a word was spoken as she watched her sister escape elegantly out of the only other window in the apartment and into the darkness. Blackfire laid prone on the floor, turned slightly on her side. Blood began to seep into the corners of her mouth, dripping onto the carpet below it.

Outside…it began to rain…it rained the night she died…

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And that's about it for 'Listen to the Rhythm'. If you don't understand the title, here's an explanation. There's an old song, one that the chorus at my school sang once and it went "Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain..". I'm not sure about the rest, but I thought the song was fitting. Well alright, that's all I have to say. Please review. Constructive criticism is welcome, but FLAMERS WILL BE GIVEN CANDY. Oh yeah, didn't expect that did you?...But seriously, please no flames. You'll make me sad. .:Sniff:.