Author's Notes: I hope everyone did read the summary!
Yes, it is written in Kaname's PoV, but it is a drabble. Mostly about my opinions on how Kaname feel and see the vampiric society is as.
I know that some parts are really melodramatic or extreme, but I hope it does come to the point: Vampires cannot escape from the illusion of fear. Since vampires inevitably live for long time, what will happen to their mental state? And how strong impact of a sense of having time changing too quickly and gone from them will be on them? How will they react? How will they adapt to a overwhleming feeling of losing an stable sense of a time?
You can say I think too hard.
Also, I have been itched to write more involving some characters of Vampire Knight, then there is it. Kaname was perfect for it!
Nevertheless, I also welcome any criticism with a pleasure! And I hope anyone can spot some clues that I dropped in the story too, and also inevitably enjoy the story along. (Hopefully.)
It is rated M for graphic violence and images.
Inspiration for this story was from the novel called The Sandman (the first volume) by Neil Gaiman.
Breeze tickled his cheeks, kissing his pale face. The sunlight begged to join along the breeze, he welcomed it also. An aroma of spring overwhelmed him, yet it calmed him. Despite his dark clothing article, he wandered throughout the hall that surrounded by green grass, various western native forests, and lastly unforgettable beauty of Mother Nature: flowers. All kinds: Deep Red Roses, Delicate White Lilies, Vibrant Golden Sunflowers, Childish Blue Bachelor's Button, Elegant Violet Sweet Pea flowers, and even more to yet be named. There were no necessary to describe the sky; the sky was same as everyone saw: an endless blue ocean with white shapeless mists. Afterall, everyone, regardless their races, had born, live, and die under one same sky.
Beside his right side, a long tail of blue pool twinkled and waltzed along his footsteps. If he had a companion beside him, his companion as he predicted, might be complimenting about the illusion of endless—no matter how he admired, it appeared to him as several weeks away to reach the ending of the trail; an impossible task for him, he never shall and will reach the ending before time harvests what it sows. With his hands holding behind his back, his eyes never strayed from his footsteps. If he could afford to spend all his attentions to the Mother Nature more carefully, he can barely hear crushing strands of grass beneath his soles. Listen carefully. Several brief scenes came to him by a step by step.
Tears blurred and stung her eyes, leaking inky liquid cross her cheeks. She pounded the keys; the piano cried a terrible note. A wounded scream eluded from her throat as lovely papers scattered and glided. A reject was a merely criticism, but a broken heart was hatred from the critic. Her fingers and wrists bruised and blistered from many years of practicing. Angry sentences whirled her head, she knew. She knew! That was the consequence of allowing her pride shattered by a loveless praise. She was green and even worst…A fool. Her face blotched, she gasped in horror.
After many years of hard labors, she reaped nothing. A thought of coming to her small, poorly built house with many bills glaring at her angrily, snapping red letters at her. She cannot afford, not even with her two jobs and student loans from her college years! Nor not with her mother becoming a victim of hospital and disease. Nor not with her younger sister's elopement with a stranger in Europe and found that she was abandoned with a child. Dark whispers placed its hands onto her neck, tightening and cutting her from oxygen for her lungs. She stammered and her hands trembled. Did she remember the morning? Did she remember taking the bottle? Did she?
Fluttering wings snapped her. Her mouth gasped at the window. She knew. Her feet guided her to the window; her hands with eager lifted the window. Placing her feet on the still, she will and would make a beautiful red shooting star with a halo.
People whimpered and wounded at sight of a woman who spent almost five years practicing, just to win a person's heart and was cheated by same person. She was only thirty-seven years old with bachelor's degree.
Beautiful songs by flying creatures chimed to his ears.
Heavy and dark storm roared and shattered the surrounding. The driver cringed, his knuckles paled and gripped the wheel, for everytime when droplets of rain pounded and thundered the roof of old weary car. How merciless and restless the rain was! His shoulders hunched to his ears, and his neck and face leaned and straightened forward. His eyes ached from staring and squirting too hard to glimpse a clear sight—perhaps a hope to lure the violence to its' slumber? Nonetheless, he must hurry to home. He cannot afford to lose time. The headlights scanned, loomed, and hovered all over slickly narrow road. Ignorance and Danger were a naturally poison for commonwealth because it had a knack of surprising its visitors, a sickly and deeply drenched bush of fur jumped into the road. He screamed and swerved. The tires groaned and ground. The car gave a nose dive first. Clatters, shatters, scrapings, thuds, and groans eventually gave a new child to a mother to embrace with her branches and vines evermore.
He was only a middle-aged man who worked in office under a ruling of popular company and had a beautiful wife and two children to cherish. He swerved off the road, over the cliff; all caused by a poor homeless dog.
He sighed and delighted by having some warmth from the sun.
Screams with raw anger plagued the house, leaving a child defenseless against the nightmares beneath the bed. Punches thundered and shook the house. The closet creaked, bleeding dark things. The child bit the lips, whimpering. A gunshot echoed the house, shattering the innocence of the child. The child's mother frequently came home with bloodshot eyes, and slurry voice. The child's father was a poor laborer who worked and burned all his life saving to rescue his family, yet sadly only managed to end the family by murdering his wife out of anger. Now the child knew no more of joy, instead, the child all knew was a burden of living. The child remained in orphanage, and eventually aged and waited too long to be adopted into a secured foster family.
His hand dug and twined into his dark hair, "So many tragic events. We all have to listen, carefully. All may be depressing, but all events have a common. A fear. Incapable to hide or learn from the past because the past lives long as I. It is skewed; and it refused to adapt. It fights to survive and to dominate. If the past was blessed by immortality, then why it feared the future greatly? Because it is not an immortal. Instead, eventually it had nothing to lose, except for a passion of living and anxiety. Anxiety breeds doubts. Doubts feed Fear. Fear sings. Nevertheless, I knew fear too well, thus I all have is a hope."
He hesitated, hope left a profoundly impact on him. It rose to his throat, so strange and unusual. But was it he all had to lose?