Hi! I wrote this cuz I was feeling like writing something different, and I made this. I decided to post it for the heck of it :) This has NOTHING to do with Flames of Final!
Ever thought how Chilidog might feel, and as the other demons do?
Disclaimer: I do not own Nightmare, Chilidog, nor Meta Knight! And I never will!
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I am nothing. Just another of Nightmare's pawns. Although I may be a very privileged and powerful pawn, but a pawn nevertheless. I am Chilidog. Born from the very fires of hell itself, I am the fire demon wolf. I have bested almost all other demons, and I know Nightmare is trying to create more of me. Production. A product of science. That's all that I am.
From the very night I opened my emerald eyes, I have been tested. I have had to battle for my life, and take others to do so. But still, I am nothing. Although I have bested all my opponents to the age I am now, I am nothing. Just a test. Just a product. All I want is to be praised, to be wanted, to be worth something in his eyes. But I am not worth such a great honor. No one is.
He does bestow such an honor on something though. There was one amongst us who had been praised and worth something. He was greater than all of us, lesser demons. The Prince, as we called him. Meta Knightmare. But of course, he leaves the praise and honor and deserts us. Now, Nightmare praises no one. Not even me.
Even Meta Knightmare is worth nothing now. He speaks of him in disgust. A 'failed experiment' he says. Is that all that we are? Experiments? Are we really worth so little? Am I, too, a 'failed experiment'? Or am I yet to be one? Will I ever be better than an experiment? Or, am I just a pawn, like I do so feel I am?
All I want is a 'good job' or at least a 'good' to come from him, all I want is to know I am more. Is that so much, really? Sometimes I feel I just am not worth enough, if I get wounded he usually leaves me to suffer. If I am maimed, or injured severely, he leaves me to die. Sometimes I wish I would. Sometimes I wish that I would not heal and that I would shut my eyes and leave this world forever.
But even such a luxury as that is not bestowed upon me. My skin always comes back together, my blood always stops flowing. I now know that my mane is flecked with red, some from my enemies. Some from myself. If I whimper, he says I am 'weak'. He says I must feel pain, I must welcome it. He says that I must make others suffer, just as he makes me suffer.
But I know that he tells the others to make me suffer. And I always do. He wants to see how much pain I can hold upon my shoulders before I break. Before I crumble. My body has not yet reached its limits after all these years. Every day the pain gets harsher, as if he is getting sick of me. As if he wants me to fail. Soon, I will.
When I do die, I will do so knowing that I am a failed experiment. A pawn so worthless all I had ever heard was 'you're too weak!' even though I've never lost a fight. When I do die I will know that I am not wanted, not needed. That I have never been thought of as worthwhile. I will die, suffering from wounds which have never healed on my broken frame. I will die as I lived; in pain.
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Hope you liked the quick one shot!
Read and Review, please!