Mockery of a Marionette
Gohan was with out a voice, an opinion, a way of communication. Watch his world unfold!
*NOTE*
-This is during the Saiyan arc.
-The story continued the same until here except Gohan didn't have a voice
-Gohan is stronger and much more serious
*END OF NOTE*
"Because days come and go! But my feelings for you are forever-" Gohan's listening to music was interrupted by a clearing of a throat.
He turned and saw his mentor and best friend, Piccolo, staring at him with a scowl. "Where did you get that?"
Gohan pondered how he could respond and suddenly he got it. He wrote the words 'I got it from home. Don't worry nobody noticed. I was careful.' on the dirt and he raised his head to see Piccolo's annoyed expression. Gohan pouted at the expression and wrote 'I promise! Nobody noticed a thing!'.
Piccolo finally lightened up and smirked, "Fine kid. Keep the phone, but you have to do more exercises in exchange."
Gohan attempted to groan but nothing came out, he felt his eyes water a bit but dismissed the feeling to cry. He simply nodded his head that was bowed in shame and sadness.
Piccolo saw that Gohan couldn't meet his gaze and put a hand on his students shoulder. "It's okay Gohan. You don't need vocals to tell me something." he reassured kindly, his hand still on the boy's shoulder.
Gohan wrote down, once again on dirt, 'I know. But I just really wish I could speak to you.' Gohan continued to look down as Piccolo softened his gaze.
"I know kid," he responded gently, "come on, we have training to do."
The boy known as Piccolo's student nodded and followed his mentor who was now walking towards their regular training grounds. Piccolo and Gohan got into identical stances and Piccolo swung a fist at Gohan.
XxXxx
"Dear Richard Strand; My name is Son Gohan. I'm not sending this for the reward. All I want is to be told definitely that I'm not crazy. I have been sitting on this information for four years and only decided to send this to you when I heard of your work with The Black Tapes Podcast.
Maybe you can explain this, so that it can stop bothering me.
I was born on March sixth, nineteen eighty-seven. On December twenty-third, nineteen ninety-seven, both of my parents and I were in a devastating car accident. My parents died instantly, and I lost my left leg.
The state handed custody over to my grandparents, and, after I recovered enough to leave the hospital, I was moved into my father's old room.
I don't want to get into too much detail about my family life in this letter but it is important to note that my mother had a falling out with her parents. So this would be the first time I see them that I could remember.
This is also where I met Puddles, my grandparents cat; Puddles was a medium sized tabby cat with white and black spotted fur that was covered with a speckling of orange. I never seem to get along with the cat, Sometimes I'd find the cat chewing on my prophetic leg when I woke up. Several times, the cat had dragged it to various hiding places in the house, leaving me to hobble around, looking for it.
I guess it's safe to say, I hated that cat, although my grandparents loved it. They called Puddles their 'lucky cat' and included it in all of the pictures.
I was thirteen when my grandfather felt very ill. He couldn't leave his bed and I was rarely allowed to see him. Once in a while, I would find him sitting in the kitchen, and I could see the toll the sickness was taking on him. He looked very thin; his hands and legs wouldn't stop shaking.
He'd always smile at me, and was very playful, but it was evident he was in a lot of pain. As he slowly got worse and worse, he began to become more detached from reality. More then once he said that 'I wouldn't be around, if not for Puddles;' but I shrugged it off as the sickness.
In the summer of 2005, I was bringing my grandfather his breakfast; and as I was about to open the door, I heard him talking. I could only make out a few words; such as 'deal' or 'promise'.
When things quieted down, I swung open the door to find Puddles sitting on the window sill with a small, pale white mouse in it's jaws. The cat stared at me for a few minutes, and then hopped out the window.
It was then that I found my grandfather lying on the floor near the window, dead. The Corner said that he'd probably died while getting up to shut the window at night. But I know what I heard.
I kept quiet, thinking that if I said anything, they would put me in an asylum or something. The cat had vanished, never again mentioned by my grandmother.
When my grandmother passed away four years ago, I was given ownership of her belongings; included with that was a box of pictures, and when I saw them I almost had a heart attack.
The pictures are enclosed and be sure to note the dates on the back. The oldest picture is from nineteen forty-six, when my grandfather was eleven years old. There was also a video from my third birthday, which was held at my grandparents' a few weeks before my mother cut ties with them.
The cat is in every picture and that video.
Maybe this isn't something you'd look into, but I need to know. I need to know if I'm not crazy or that I am.
Something happened a long time ago, and it involves me somehow.
Please, I need your help. Sincerely, Son Gohan."
Gohan had just finished writing down a first chapter for a story with glee. He quite liked his stories and found them to be filled with a profuse amount of high-levelled vocabulary.
He had just finished a first chapter before a fierce battle.
Gohan frowned at the thought, 'I hope I won't have to kill anybody.' he thought with dismay at the thought of killing.
Suddenly two huge power levels brought him out of his thoughts and made him jump. 'It's time.' he thought with the feeling of anxiousness.
Piccolo flew down to Gohan and saw that the boy nodded with a determined look. He confirmed Gohan's suspicions by saying two words, "It's time."