There were always the horrible dreams.The bad,terrible dreams.
Blood.Pooling on the floor.Two unnaturally glowing pitiless red eyes glaring at him.
He'd woken up at times in the long,deep night to feel sweat soaking his entire shirt,and his skin colder than an ice cube.At those times,he races out to the little bathroom and spits vomit up.And he returns to his bed.
To enter those dreams again.
Two corpses,a man and a woman's sprawled on top of each other.The vase of flowers was overturned,shattered into a thousand pieces.The formerly white flowers were stained a rich red.He started screaming.
The blank,red eyes stares at him.The room was gone.He touches the remote controller in his hand curiously.And he looks up.He couldn't not say he was glad the corpses were gone.He was seating in a swivel chair,comfy and soft.
What greeted him was a bizarre image.Thousands upon thousands of tiny television screens stared at him.They were not switched on.The black was unnaturally deep,almost sucking him in.He tore his eyes away from the screens and focused on the remote control.
Why not?
He points it at the screens and clicked the On button.
The screen flickers on.He stared at it.
No.No.NOOOOOOO!
He yells out to the unearthly black room,filled with the television screens.Surrounding him were sharp and cruelly detailed images of how his brother welded the sword and slowly brought it down on to the woman's neck,the little spurts of bright red blood,the glint of metal,the pitiless lo---
No!No!NO!
He tries to rise up from the chair and grab the control.Strangely enough,the control had somehow managed to wiggle out of his hands.The chair sprouted long thick ropes and bound him down.He could not reach the control.He had to watch this thing.
He tried to close his eyes.Tiny sharp tendrils that made him cry appeared out of thin air and forced his eyelids open.Then a rope wound around his neck and made him stare straight at a picture on the screen.It looked as if it was in slow motion.
His father's body,sagging slowly,mortally wounded by a sword thrust to the gut,seemed to take an age to fall.The blood also seemed to drip unnaturally slowly,taking its time to fall carefully onto the ground,like it was falling into a pre-arranged position.
Slowly,but surely,it took the form of a blood red flower.He sagged on the seat,eyes still forced to look.
No.
The ropes suddenly seem to fall away,dripping on his hands like--
This is..
He was a ninja.He knew what this is.
Blood.
He screamed over and over again,jumping out of his seat and sprinting to the other end of the horrendous black room,where he knew,surely,safety lies--
He ran on,not caring that he crushed the control beneath his feet and it turned into a bloody symbol,one he knew so well and wore--
Tendrils flung themselves out of the walls,created of bright crimson blood--
A sword whistled through the air and was muffled by soft pale flesh--
Red flowers sprouted from the black ground--
Crimson eyes--
Mangekeyou--
Uchiha--
He jerked up from the bed,heart hammering on his ribcage.He was sweating,tears mixed with the glistening sweat.His shirt stuck to his skin,and he felt so cold.So very,very cold.Bile rised in his throat.He forced it down and pulled the blanket up over him.
It was a nightmare.Just a dream.
Nothing could hurt him in dreams...
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A bright crimson flower,its petals perfectly shaped, blossomed under the full moon.