I had always understood what loathing was, had felt it since I was a child. What I could not understand was why it was directed at me, what had I the beacon of this hatred what hadn't merit of any kind other then my aunts jealousy towards my mother's particular talents? It was in the summer of 1997. I had just turned 16 years old. I had received gifts from friends and had of course, spent t he entire afternoon out of doors collecting the bits of sunlight on my skin, resting my eyes and feeling cool grass beneath my clothes. I wasn't thinking about going home until twilight. Why did I have to return? Sometimes I really hated them.

I lay in the grass, with my glasses lying on my chest, I began to imagine how life would have been if my parents had been alive. Certainly, I thought, I would be happier then this. And I was so sure of it. Then there was this voice in the back of my head that repeated that they were alive, that I had experienced them and that I shouldn't be sad. It was like I was living in a nightmare one minute and then a dream. Sometimes I wanted to disappear.

I fell asleep on the grass and when I awoke it was dark. Stars glittered in the sky above my head and the crickets were barely discernable against the loud chirping cicada. I slid my glasses on my head the lenses were a bit smudged but I didn't bother to clean them. I ought to get home, I thought, they'll be so angry the longer that I am out.

I gather my on belonging in hand and headed towards the park gates. It was chilly for summer; I wanted to hug myself for warmth. My grip tightened on the thick metal in my hand, like ice, as I continued to walk. Today is my birthday, I wanted to say, and today I was born 16 years ago. My mother pushed me out into this world and what am I doing with it? Let me answer, nothing of particular importance and with little joy

I was on the sidewalk I could see the houses, all with the same marking all so identical. I saw all the little glass windows lighted up. I imagined the happy people the little families who live in those houses. The seemed like warm houses and so inviting while my house, that looked the same, was so cold. With the pretty flowers and the pretty fresh pain and the nicely mowed lawn and the modest car in the drive, my house seemed to cold. Alien to these other houses where love must bloom behind the doors. I saw the house; I saw the door and the glass lit up behind the windows. My aunt and uncle and my cousin must be in the front room watching TV.

I walked into the house, across the threshold; I closed the door so softly no one would have heard. From where I stood it was dark. I could see the kitchen door opened no one there. I could see the stairs, I could see the door under the stairs my old room.

I lifted the metal in my hands, grasping it tightly, the ice. I walked into the tiny hall and took and immediate left where my jealous aunt, my fat uncle and pig cousin sat. Their backs to me watching the TV perfect. The metal came crashing down, my uncles head imploded I saw the bones and brain matter. My aunt screamed before the metal caught her mouth her face. My cousin tried to run. I took out his eyes. I hit each and every one of them, the three little pigs all covered in blood, heads turned to mush and all incredibly dead. I lifted the metal above my head, it came crashing down. Over and over to my hearts content but I wasn't laughing. This was liberating. But it wasn't funny. These people were trying to kill me, poisoning me from my food.

It was my birthday. I got my wish. I got my present. I got my survival for my birthday. But later, before I clawed at my throat and died, I was told it was the syndrome that it set in.

Hukurou no koro ni


I awoke.

The bat was in the corner of my room right by Hedwig, it was clean. My clothes were cleaned. The sun was high in the sky, brightly lit against the endless blue. My glasses were not smudged. I took the metal bat into my hands and went to the door.

I walked down the stair and my aunt was at the table eating. My uncle was reading the paper. My cousin was loudly munching toast.

It was my birthday.

My aunt slid a bowl and a glass of milk towards me. Obviously poisoned because she was never kind enough to prepare anything for me not for the past week anyway and I knew, they must be trying to kill me. I grasped the metal in my hands.

"I'm going out into the park."

"Be back before sundown."

"Alright."

Yes, they were trying to kill me, I knew it!

But it was my birthday. I wouldn't let myself be killed on my birthday.

I walked out of the back door, rounding the house, walking passed the gardens and the familiar houses. I would go into the park and wait until dark. I would save myself at twilight.

July 31st, 1997.

Tatarigoroshi-hen

Curse killing chapter

"But why does it feel like I've done this before?"

Note: Review and I'll start the story. No flames.