Light ran through the streets that twisted in the darkness beneath his feet. His heart pounded in rhythm with his heavy footsteps.
The light fell coldly on his face, as he ran through patches of lamplight.
"This world is mine!" He spread his arms wide, embracing the towering skyscrapers. Dirty lamplight fell on his shoulders, spreading dull yellow against his face. His eyes glinted with the fire of fallen angels. "All mine and no one else's!"
He couldn't stop the words from bursting out. He had to scream it, leap on the tallest building and let the world know. He had held all his swelling emotions wonderfully, painfully in check. He chocked them with his tie tied tight around his neck, held them behind his neat suit and hid them in words that meant nothing at all. He couldn't take it anymore.
His tie hung limply across his shoulders now, like a trail of blood bubbling against his brown suit jacket. He had pulled it recklessly off in his flight. He took a breath and screamed, loud and long.
No one listened in this city. They were all deaf and blind. If he had been an innocent man screaming with all that was left in him, his blood dripping down onto the gritty pavement, windows would be thrown down heavily and curtains pulled closed.
Idiots. Every last one of them. He hated them all.
He screamed and shouted until his lungs burned with the effort. Then he stood still, taking long, raspy breaths.
The world would be his. His eyes fell away from the smattering of stars against the dark sky, disinterested. God could have his stardust and dark matter. All Light wanted was the deed to this concrete hellhole and the right to stop the sinner's heart.
He could almost see the Death Note, tucked safe and snug in his desk draw almost innocently.
He loved the way the pages tingled against his fingertips, the way his pen bled against the pages. He loved that moment before the ink dried. When it glinted on the pages before sinking in. Pure ecstasy.
He would pull it open when not a soul was in the house. He would lock his door behind him with a sharp look over each shoulder. He would pull the drawer open, listening to the screech of metal on metal. He would tenderly open the book. Stroke a page lovingly and marvel at all the names.
The names were neat and orderly at first, all lined up with only a few on each page. But the further he had plunged into that endless book, the more the words seemed to just fall on the page. Words crammed in, words scrawled around corners, almost absentmindedly, as if the letters were innocent. As if they were of no consequence at all.
Page after page building up his blood-soaked throne.
All that work would not lead to nothing.
Surely it was not so hard to become a god in such an ignorant world.
A malicious cackle sent a strange pang through Light's heart. A sharp sound cut through the air as Ryuk took a bite of an apple that was surely red.
Writer's woes:
This is a blurb that I'm not particularly fond of. Wrote it on the spur of the moment while listening to Alumina. :D