This is a pointless horror fic, and has nothing to do with the storyline of Death Note. Everyone is aged from ten to twelve. Rated for blood, gore, and whatever other horrors I can think of. Just a note: I'm Australian. The only reason this fic has American spelling is because that's how I saw it in the dream. Yes, this is all the result of a dream I had - the title, the flashbacks, some of the scenes even. I have a very disturbing subconscious, no?
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. I give you permission to gasp in shock now.
Catching Mom
Chapter 1: A Cry In The Night
He nestled into the soft warmth of his mother, finally calm enough to sleep for the first time since he could remember. But something was... a little off. Something was wrong with the picture he could see in mis mind. But, unlike most six-year-olds would, he simply dismissed it as his imagination.
Because nothing could ruin this for him.
He was finally with his mother again.
He heard her breathe slowly, rhythmically, like a long lost lullaby sung from an obscure place.
"Ring around the rosy..." A woman's soft voice chimed in his ears. "A pocket full of posy..." He snuggled closer and nuzzled into his mother's chest, not wanting to forget the sound, when a strange scent filled his nose. "Ashes, ashes..." It was salty and... metallic. A similar taste entered his mouth. "We all fall down."
His breath caught as he recognised it, along with the strangeness of the situation.
His mother was dead.
"We all fall down."
Then what...?
The boy's eyes shot open, and instantly filled with tears of terror as he realised exactly where he was. Coughing and spitting the blood away from his face, tears running down his cheeks already, he tried to sit up. But he couldn't. A pair of stiff arms was holding him close; cradling him like a mother would her child.
Cradling him into her open chest cavity, which was slowly filling with blood like a bowl of water. Her exposed lungs were expanding periodically around his face and heart was thumping just above his snowy white hair, now stained with her blood. Some of her spine could be seen; just a flash of bone white amongst the dark crimson of blood and inflamed flesh.
A small-bodied spider with legs that had the span of a plate began crawling towards him from the edge of his vision, stepping lightly on the dead flesh of his live mother.
He couldn't breathe. Blood filled his mouth and lungs, and eventually consumed his sight as well. No matter how hard he struggled, the boy couldn't remove the pair of strong, cold arms that were embracing him.
Killing him.
We all... fall... down...
Nate Rivers screamed; the endless, piercing shriek of a dying child.
The noise carried into reality as Near woke, and he had to force himself to stop by clapping a hand over his mouth. He was panting heavily and sweat beaded on his forehead. Images of the nightmare swirled violently behind his eyes. He shook his head and squeezed them shut in an attempt to rid himself of the horrors of what he had just witnessed in his mind. It all seemed so real...
The dark seemed to be closing in on him, and Near hugged a knee to his chest, simultaniously reaching for a toy for comfort.
But his hand froze inches from the roughly crafted robotic figure as something beside it caugt his eye.
A set of finger puppets were standing on his bedside table, watching over him protectively as he slept. That was okay; he had put them there. It made him feel better whenever he woke up from a nightmare, though they usually weren't this bad... But there was something else on that table that deeply disturbed him, despite how innocent it sounded.
Another puppet had joined those Near had placed there. It was a tall figure, with white hair falling to its waist and dull grey eyes lighting its face. There was sorrow in its... in her expression, and the others had the same lamentful face as well.
Near knew who it was, though he refused to believe it. He withdrew his hand quickly as if the puppet would bite, and the small albino rubbed his eyes frantically.
This is just my eyes playing tricks on me, he assured himself. A copletely logical explanation. It could happen to anyone.
And the puppet was gone when he looked again.
Cold shivers ran down his spine, and Near could feel someone else in the room. But, rather than investigating, he just shrank back into bed. Though he knew very well that blankets were not any sort of protection against... well, anything, really... he still wrapped them around him as much as humanly possible. It made him feel better, despite the absence of logic.
One thing the boy didn't notice, though, was that the other puppet's expressions had stayed the same.
The one modelled off himself had a single red tear running down its miniature woolen face.
Before he could get anywhere even remotely close to sleep, however, Near heard voices coming from outside his room.