George Lucas owns everything. I own nothing. Oh, wait, that's not true. I own this computer. And I own this banana. And I own your feeble little minds! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! …Ermmm… I mean… Ummm… Hee hee!
Obi-Wan woke up. He saw a face, but it was blurry. He knew the face…or did he? Everything was so pretty…so fuzzy…
Now the man was saying something Obi-Wan didn't understand. Confused, Obi-Wan blinked. He blinked again. The words still made no sense to his puzzled mind.
The boy decided to focus on the man's mouth. It moved in funny ways. It made pretty sounds, too. He wanted to make the sounds. He tried, but all he got for his valiant efforts was a groan. He contented himself by watching the shape of the man's mouth change.
Some time passed. How long? Did it matter? Time was all the same. He never understood. Men and women walked by, making their sounds very quiet, so he wouldn't overhear. He didn't understand. He liked the pretty sounds. It was not as if he could comprehend them anyway.
Obi-Wan reached up and grasped the man's long hair. He twirled it around his hand. His fingers got all tangled up, and he started to cry. But the man freed his fingers, so Obi-Wan smiled again. The man smiled too, but he seemed sad. Why was he sad? Why would he be so sad when the world was so lovely and pretty?
The boy grew tired. His hand fell to his side, and he stared blankly into space, not seeing, just shutting out the world and retreating into his shattered mind.
Suddenly, the young man remembered everything with crystal accuracy. Scenes rushed through his mind quickly. He had taken Obi-Wan and tried to make Obi-Wan tell him about the Force. Obi-Wan had been in pain. He tried to save himself with the truth that you were born with it, but the man had not believed him. The pain had built and built and built and built…
So Obi-Wan had locked himself away, inside himself, in the deepest part of his being. It was a place where the evil man could not hurt him. It was a pretty place… Everything was pretty…
Obi-Wan had to tell the man, the fuzzy face, everything. There was not much time left for him, for his mind. Already, the boy could feel sanity slipping away. But the man… He had to know…
Obi-Wan felt it slide from him. Trying to hold onto it was futile, like trying to catch smoke with bare hands. He felt himself slide back, back into the world of indistinct outlines and muffled sounds. Back to the place of voices he heard but, at the same time, did not hear. Obi-Wan's eyes glazed over; he was once more a prisoner in the shambles that remained of his mind.
The young Padawan grinned feebly up from his bed. He giggled to himself. He did not see his master's tears. Even if he had, he would not have understood. He would not have understood that they were tears of mourning for him.
The world was such a nice place… Such a nice, fuzzy place…
So please review. I'm not going to beg you. But it would really make me happy. Was that a good little guilt trip? Tee hee!