Disclaimer- Ciro Neili owns the characters, the setting, etc. I own the story.
Author's Note- I can post now! Thanks to Netbug for the advice, and for your time. I'll try to get the next chapter up, but I'm not sure whether I should post it now, or try to make more chapters and post them together.
Warning: I didn't rate this M, because I don't think it fits such a high rating, but it's creepy. Be warned.
Please be thoughtful when reviewing, and deciphering why I typed this. Sorry if it's rushed. It's supposed to be short, and it's 1:05 A.M. on a school night. Most times when a punctuation is missing, it's intentional.
Remembrance
ThumpthumpThumpthump
Where...
The clouds were being wrung out as the downpour drenched the cracked area. Smoke clogged the air, but everything else seemed desolate, as if the ground was burnt many centuries ago.
His home would never look like this. Never.
Missionmissionmissionmission
What?
Is...
The mist resembled dirty soap bubbles. It gave a macabre chill. A lone figure was on his knees. The droplets of poisoned liquid imitated his blood organ.
Thudthudthudthudthudthudthudthud
Runrunrun
Move?
Dull, ultramarine eyes were dazzled by a large chain of lightning. Where were the sunny skies and heavenly clouds? One could say the pupil was cracked. A ghostly whisper hissed in the wind.
Why...here...is...
he?
...here?
The figure gasped mutely. It was all a blur as the acrid acids in the rain made him feel sick. Nothing could harm him here. It was...all...all...
Gone. Dead.
Where...
Then, something moved.
"Show yourselves!" He spat. No matter how defiant and dignified he made his voice seem, he was disturbed. Blurry outlines seemed to drift ahead. The proud being stood up, and grunted as his sturdy spine protested. He marched forward, unwilling, driven, forced, and grimly determined with an ignominious goal. His pale feet tenderly kicked ashes.
Gogogogogogogogo
Find.
Is...
Circular containers were strewn over the battlefield and debris, and they all had toxic warning labels on them. They were worn and swollen. No radioactive wastes slithered forward. They had already seeped into the muddy earth and had done their duty. The mud and waters on this littered strip of the underworld were not clear, dirty brown, or clay red. They were pitch black like the great abyss. Worse, the being couldn't see his reflection in them. They were nullified voids of darkness.
Nothing. Empty.
The one with the blazing sapphire eyes sniffed. A new, more fresh and vibrant scent came. It was the strange earthly odor of decay and drying blood. There was a disturbance, a shift in time. Then, a mysterious sound...sobbing?
Nowrongno
Laughter.
he?
Howwhywhat
"Wha--" Any forms of communication were dead. Monkey doodle (Sprx's influence was getting to him).
Where...
A child in a flannel, white shirt and torn and ruined (once blue, now brown and black) overalls smiled a gap-toothed grin that was unsettling for such a gruesome place. Part of the more experienced soul wanted to grasp the child out of the turmoil. It was his duty. His "hero code." He realized...
More movement. The figure with the deepest blue sets of eyes glanced at the careless, bright orbs. It was just a toddler, no more than three or four. Torn flesh and the reek of decomposing wastes was everywhere. The child was sitting in its own filth. The taller creature felt like he had failed the innocent. Its skin was so pale and its features were so soft. A wayward cap of navy blue seemed to be glued to its dirty, dark hair the color of a crow's. It was a boy. He had an ecstatic, gleeful, and almost maddening gleam as the smog rolled around. Instinct came to the other as he sensed the present of another force.
Protectservehelp
One hand reached out to the mute child. Stubby pink digits met with sick white ones and they intertwined. A moment of placid serenity flew by as both wanted to fly off to stunning heights. A hiss interrupted the silence. At first, a pipe would be the first suspect, but many of those were blown away in the bomb wars. Both good creatures looked on and saw a violet, five-legged object suspended in midair.
Guessguessguessguess
Was it...a spider? Then the sharp edges of each long structure snapped forward, and the others lunged away, biggest clutching smallest, who had ceased giggling and was shivering from the bitter cold and forlorn aura.
It was a hand. It belonged to a skeletal figure that dwarfed both. The eye sockets were gruesome pits with odd streaks going down the skin below (the "cheekbones"). Vile organs were pumping visibly and they connected down into the creature's bottom section. It smiled wickedly and breathed bacteria through its fangs.
THE BOY.
Monster.
If only he could fight. He couldn't lose now, but horror, and dedication to the immaculate creature in his arms mingled with his instinct. The child was crying now. Its soft sobs sounded like struggling wheezes.
The mission.
Failedfailedfailed
After so long, the wise being remembered.
THERE HE IS.
That was when Antauri awakened from the nightmare. Heavy snores drowned out the questions he repeatedly murmured to himself. The feeling of premonition gave way to recognition. As he was bending before his tube, for once, disorientated and regretful, a hand rested on his shoulders. It was soft, fair, and concerned.
"Antauri...I felt something. Are you okay?"
That question would haunt both of those spirits for many nights. Not even the boldest or the most insightful can drown out destiny, or painful memories.
