(Utena characters and settings belong to their respective owners.)
This is a rather surreal fanfic. I have no clue where I plan to go with it. I also have no Word at the moment, so I have to use notepad. Bleh. :P
Quelque Chose d'Éternel
Part 1: Father's Day
Morning.
The phone began to ring.
It didn't start until after the steady drone of the alarm clock kicked in, buzzing with all its insistance to the point of nearly rattling itself off the small, oakwood dresser. A hand snaked out from beneath the comforters piled atop the bed, fingers straining to come in contact with the little button. The din ceased with a slight depression of the snooze alarm, the clock returning to the steady tick, tock, tick tock.
The hazy of the dream world enveloped him eagerly, drawing him back into the depths of surreal landscapes and the suddenly distinct sound of crickets chirping, their voices a steady rise and fall of a thousand voices. Like the fields of grain in August, when the heat was thick and the humidity left everyone sweating.
Then the phone kicked in, a distant sound that teased rather than insisted. Ring, ring. Silence. Ring, ring. Each time, he ignored it, and just as the jarring startlement began to wear off, it would ring again.
Finally the answering machine picked up. A female voice began to speak, hesitant at first, words halting and then rushing out.
/Come to think of it...I've forgotten that boy's name./
Pause.
/Long ago, when my older sister was still a child, she nearly drowned in a river. On that day, there was a boy who jumped into the river to try to save her. My sister got lucky and was saved by a nearby adult, but... the boy who tried to save my sister and jumped into the river was swept away./
Pause. A long sigh emits, the voice crackled and distorted, fractured by the electronical medium attempting to record the words for posterity.
/I thought my sister was very cold for forgetting his name so quickly... But now that I try to remember, it seems I've forgotten it too./
Beep.
Touga woke soon after, or so he thought, sitting up in bed as the garbled words mingled with the scant edges of his shattered dreams, producing an incoherant mystery. Who had called? He rolled over, turning off the alarm clock in the process. Comforter tossed aside, he rose to pad lightly across the cold tile flooring, over to the desk.
The answering machine light remained steady.
No messages.
*******************************************
Evening.
Darkness settled comfortably over the campus of Ohtori. Shadows lenghtened and then disappeared, writhing only where the lamps sporadically provided ambient lighting along the walkways. Inside, the small dorm room was awash in shadow and darkness, save for the last remnents of light that crept through the only window, fractured patterns shining against the tile flooring. The laughter of other students echoed down the hallway, muffled through the door. The clock on the wall steadily droned out the time in tiny, soft ticks, hands inexorably moving forward.
He watched it all from the window of his room, chair reversed so he straddled it and arms crossed over one another along the back. Chin propped up against the backs of his hands, he stared through the glass panes, at the darkened world outside Ohtori's dormitories. Stared at it all without really seeing any of it; his mind's eye wandered somewhere else.
"You should call him. It's Father's Day."
"Cold day in hell first, Nanami."
She sniffed derisively.
"You sound like Touga sometimes."
Violet eyes slowly meandered toward the phone. How long had it been? He'd been with Ohtori so long, it seemed an eternity since he'd heard his parents' voices. He reached out toward it, lifting the receiver out of the cradle. Numb fingers dialed the number without need for thought. How many years, again? He hadn't forgotten the number.
The phone rang three times.
"Hello?"
He froze, then, finding that he simply could not speak. It was his father's voice, but something seized his voice and with it came the vision of another time, another place, and a hallway that saw violence all too often.
"When I'm done with you, boy... you'll have your castle in the sky. With your own coffin in it!"
He sat there, listening to his father repeat himself, until finally a click indicated he had hung up.
He set the receiver down again, realizing how his fingers trembled.
And the clock on the wall continued ticking.
This is a rather surreal fanfic. I have no clue where I plan to go with it. I also have no Word at the moment, so I have to use notepad. Bleh. :P
Quelque Chose d'Éternel
Part 1: Father's Day
Morning.
The phone began to ring.
It didn't start until after the steady drone of the alarm clock kicked in, buzzing with all its insistance to the point of nearly rattling itself off the small, oakwood dresser. A hand snaked out from beneath the comforters piled atop the bed, fingers straining to come in contact with the little button. The din ceased with a slight depression of the snooze alarm, the clock returning to the steady tick, tock, tick tock.
The hazy of the dream world enveloped him eagerly, drawing him back into the depths of surreal landscapes and the suddenly distinct sound of crickets chirping, their voices a steady rise and fall of a thousand voices. Like the fields of grain in August, when the heat was thick and the humidity left everyone sweating.
Then the phone kicked in, a distant sound that teased rather than insisted. Ring, ring. Silence. Ring, ring. Each time, he ignored it, and just as the jarring startlement began to wear off, it would ring again.
Finally the answering machine picked up. A female voice began to speak, hesitant at first, words halting and then rushing out.
/Come to think of it...I've forgotten that boy's name./
Pause.
/Long ago, when my older sister was still a child, she nearly drowned in a river. On that day, there was a boy who jumped into the river to try to save her. My sister got lucky and was saved by a nearby adult, but... the boy who tried to save my sister and jumped into the river was swept away./
Pause. A long sigh emits, the voice crackled and distorted, fractured by the electronical medium attempting to record the words for posterity.
/I thought my sister was very cold for forgetting his name so quickly... But now that I try to remember, it seems I've forgotten it too./
Beep.
Touga woke soon after, or so he thought, sitting up in bed as the garbled words mingled with the scant edges of his shattered dreams, producing an incoherant mystery. Who had called? He rolled over, turning off the alarm clock in the process. Comforter tossed aside, he rose to pad lightly across the cold tile flooring, over to the desk.
The answering machine light remained steady.
No messages.
*******************************************
Evening.
Darkness settled comfortably over the campus of Ohtori. Shadows lenghtened and then disappeared, writhing only where the lamps sporadically provided ambient lighting along the walkways. Inside, the small dorm room was awash in shadow and darkness, save for the last remnents of light that crept through the only window, fractured patterns shining against the tile flooring. The laughter of other students echoed down the hallway, muffled through the door. The clock on the wall steadily droned out the time in tiny, soft ticks, hands inexorably moving forward.
He watched it all from the window of his room, chair reversed so he straddled it and arms crossed over one another along the back. Chin propped up against the backs of his hands, he stared through the glass panes, at the darkened world outside Ohtori's dormitories. Stared at it all without really seeing any of it; his mind's eye wandered somewhere else.
"You should call him. It's Father's Day."
"Cold day in hell first, Nanami."
She sniffed derisively.
"You sound like Touga sometimes."
Violet eyes slowly meandered toward the phone. How long had it been? He'd been with Ohtori so long, it seemed an eternity since he'd heard his parents' voices. He reached out toward it, lifting the receiver out of the cradle. Numb fingers dialed the number without need for thought. How many years, again? He hadn't forgotten the number.
The phone rang three times.
"Hello?"
He froze, then, finding that he simply could not speak. It was his father's voice, but something seized his voice and with it came the vision of another time, another place, and a hallway that saw violence all too often.
"When I'm done with you, boy... you'll have your castle in the sky. With your own coffin in it!"
He sat there, listening to his father repeat himself, until finally a click indicated he had hung up.
He set the receiver down again, realizing how his fingers trembled.
And the clock on the wall continued ticking.