Author's Note: So, another thing I don't intend on making a thing on this site; possibly. I honestly love this cartoon, it was my favorite cartoon and, in my opinion, the best there ever was and will be; with a few exceptions. When I saw the pictures of humanized Courage, I couldn't help myself. Damn, it appears that quite a few of my stories have derived from the want to do my own humanized version. Quite intriguing... Well, anyways. I will see you next time, my ghosts and ghouls, Bye-Bye! [F.Y.I., there will be many subtle hints and references to characters; whose identities can be discerned by their speech and how they speak, and the such that regard to the cannon lore of Courage the Cowardly Dog.]
"The question is, my organic counterpart, do you define courage as being fearless, or being capable of doing things despite one's fear of such things...?"
Yet another night fell upon the old, barren wasteland that was Nowhere. True to its name it was nothing, barely any foliage worthy of a prairie or a vast, rocky desert. In the day it was as scorching hot as a desert, but at night it was cool and crisp. When it rained it poured down lakes and when it snowed, well, it was just enough to make snowmen and the like; but barely. It wasn't much of a land to call home, but there were some brave souls who had made a stand in the barren wastes, proclaiming it as their home and as far as the later generations of citizens in the town and scattered houses of Nowhere could tell, they had flourished in their attempts. However, the occupants of the town did question why their ancestors had chosen such a land to live in, a land crawling with creepy things, supernatural occurrences, and various other things that made this land stick out more than a place smack dab in the middle of nowhere should have.
Far off in the vastness of the nothingness that was nowhere was a farm, a very old farm that had next to no vegetation or crops as far as the eye could see; not even a blade of grass. There were four buildings in the farm's landscape, one being a worn down chicken coupe, a large and rickety windmill that was practically falling apart, and an old two story farmhouse. This building appeared hand built, made from wooden planks that looked old and quite worn down, with a few windows with a four square cutout frame, a porch with a roof above it that sagged and a green wooden door that had a screen-net at the top; instead of the rectangular glass window.
This farm shouldn't have been standing, not for as long as it had been around; especially considering the events it has been forced to undergo. Yet here it stood, as if a defying testimony to its sheer resiliency and endurance; not to mention patience. But by far the more resilient things where the people that lived inside the house, a family of three. A sweet, kind, selfless, and generous old woman known as Muriel Bagg, her husband; the woman's complete opposite. A cynical, greedy, cruel, mean old man known as Eustace Bagg. Both of these people were fine and well on their own, but neither could really have a child; one in particular finding the idea more revolting than the other, and eventually they desired one. While one detested the want and idea more than the other, he really didn't say too much in protest when his wife brought home a frail looking boy who had to only be four years old.
Three years passed and the boy had aged, this boy thought that his adopted father despised him and in return very much so feared him. This boy was quite the fearful and paranoid child, but courageous all the same. He was also considerably intelligent, using his wit along with any object his mind could conceive as a weapon to protect his family; making up for his slightly average if not less than average strength. He faced many things, many hardships, met many friends, many enemies, and various other extremities that an eight year old boy should never haft to of gone through. His will was unconquerable as well as his love for his family; sacrificing even his own skin to save both adopted mother and father. He loved his adopted mother and, to an extent, his adopted father; wishing for both of them only the best of things.
Then four years passed and the boy had grown older, experienced more things. He had fought off even more odds and ends to keep his family safe, and he was getting more aggressive about it too; while still being quite easy to scare. His wit had steadily grown stronger and found himself outwitting his enemies in the end; that or outlasting them with his incredible endurance. His strength slowly got better with age, but he still could never out-might the enemies he fought with his strength. However, the greatest thing of all about this boy was his heart of pure gold. It had the power of Santa Claus's heart times ten and was rivaled only by his sense of duty, loyalty and manners/morals; taught to him by Muriel herself.
However, Muriel wanted something grander for her adopted son, something that would produce a bright future for him. So, she spent some time on; mostly to figure out how to use, her son's computer searching for the best school she could send him too. Coincidentally, that was not a school located in Nowhere Kansas, it would have to be out of state, far away from the farm. But, if it would help her Courage have a better, brighter future then she was willing to be apart from her son for four years; if not eight depending on college. It was a bitter-sweet feeling, seeing her baby off with her husband; waving goodbye to him as he departed on the Nowhere town bus. For a few days, Muriel cried over the absence of the boy that she had quickly thought to be her birth son. Even Eustace shed a tear or two over the suddenly sullen and empty house; however never doing it in front of others.
Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days, days to weeks, weeks to months, months to years as his departure became more and more noticeable. Courage, Nowhere's defender, was gone, absent, vanished in thin air. Those that called themselves his friends; old and new, who moved back to Nowhere were saddened while his enemies took time in plotting countless ways to make his loved ones suffer. But, they could never truly enact upon them, after all, if the one thing that always stood between them and victory was gone, how would they know their plan was truly successful? So, they waited, and waited, and schemed, and mourned, and played small tricks on the citizens of Nowhere; anticipating the return of the mighty hero of Nowhere.
Four long years passed, each second drawn out like it were ten years. Not a hide nor hair of the hero was ever seen, some thought he had forgotten and moved on with his life, but they still held hopes for his return. Some gave up that hope after the fifth year; unplanned for his departure to last that long, and some still clung to that scrape of hope. Eventually they all moved on with their daily lives; keeping that image of Courage five years in the past at the back of their minds. Subconsciously hoping beyond hope that he'd come back. But as the days passed, it became quite evident that he had no intention on returning.
"Owhowho, is not Ironic that you, a little kiddie startled by your own shadow, is called Courage? Isn't it also ironic that a little kiddie like yourself happen to face even the scariest of things the people like me, an infamous fugitive escapee, have to offer?"
Time passed, uncaring and unfeeling of those that it left behind on its never-ending trek forwards, but there was one time when father time stole a glance over his shoulder. A quick peek at the one named, "Courage" and found that he could make a single exception to his normal rule of, "never stop moving forward". For a split second, Father time stopped the hike of life, only for a brief moment; just enough for the one known as Courage to get back on, before resuming the trek at a greater pace than before.
On a ill paved road crawled a hulking monster of metal, it roared and sputtered under its metallic body; quickly being drug across the ground on its rubber, round feet. These feet kicked up columns of dust that formed a cloud at the back; trailing behind the beast. Pot holes could be seen dotting the long streak of black, causing the metallic monster to lurch down and jump up once it got out of the hole. This lurching and jumping made all two of the monster's occupant bounce and lurch forwards every now and then; just generally jostling them about. The bus driver was quite heft and was balding, the only hair being that on his back and a glorious red beard growing from his chin, he looked like an overall decent man. However, the second occupant was the most interesting, especially his clothing choice.
He wore a pair of weary hiking boots that were a dark gray with hot pink laces and a few pink highlights, then a thing of pink and white stripped socks that lead up to a pair of royal blue jeans; near skin tight. Up along the inner and outer calves and thighs was a strip of pink that merged in with his oddly colored jacket. This jacket was made out of a smooth and soft looking fabric; colored a hot pink, with a hood and pink hoodie strings dangling from his neck. On the sides of the hood were fake dog ears; stitched into the fabric, long, floppy dog ears that were either crooked or sloped along his head. He had with him a small duffle-bag slung from his right shoulder and a pink backpack held firm to his back.
He had his head partially tilted down as he pressed it against the window, gazing out the window through the corners of his eyes. He found the droll wastelands both alien and familiar, remembering the blood, memories, fights, friendships, enemies, birthdays and beatings he got in Nowhere; each memory flooding into his mind like one messy slop. All the thoughts and memories made him smile a shadow concealed grin-hidden by the hoodie-at the thought of finally returning. The city was nice and all, but it was no where near as fun as Nowhere. Besides, there were still a few things he had to do, had to finish in these lands. He was their guardian after all.
I wonder what it is going to be like, he pondered with amusement, maybe things will have changed and will have been modernized? No, I guess that wouldn't be nice, I kind of prefer the simple life...
His thoughts were interrupted, startling him by the call of the bus driver; his voice loud and bellowing, "Next stop, Nowhere city!"
"If one could call it a 'city'" Mumbled the boy in exhaustion; voice sweet and polite.
He watched with anticipation as the small town rolled into view, its few buildings tall and old. The paint was chipped, peeling away at the seams, for it was quite the old town. But it was quite clear that renovations had been done to the town, after all, there were some new buildings. Quite tall buildings made from gray bricks, feeling out of place in the ancient town.
"Not much has changed... in the time I've been away." he mumbled. "I wonder if anyone even remembers me...?"
With a loud screech the metal monster came to a grinding halt, rubber feet sputtering in protest against the resulting friction of the badly paved road. The sound pierced the sensitive eared, adolescent boy with a passion; making him physically shake in anguish. This sound persisted for a moment before finally silencing itself, letting the hero relish in the wondrous silence. But all things came to an end, this moment of blissful silence ended when the husky driver called out to his only passenger, telling him it was time to depart from his metal pet's chassis. The defender of Nowhere complied and, with his belongings, retreated out from the gaping maw of the monster. Then its rubber feet began oscillating once more; kicking up a cloud of brown dust, and started to slide the beast along the weary road once more; causing the hero to cough and sputter against the dirt clouded air. After a few moments, it became but a simply speck engulfed in a large brown cloud.
The boy surveyed the town, examining what was new and what still stood where he remembered them to be standing. Not much had changed, even the few citizens of the city still were here; if just more aged. It was very surreal, seeing something from the past basically the same as when he left.
"Now then... where was the farm again?"
"Courage, I want ya to know that ya will always have a place in my heart, even when we are separated."
Tucked away into one of the many folds of Nowhere stood a derelict farm. It had a chicken coup that was a mixture of refurbished and old oak boards, an ancient and rickety windmill that groaned in exhaustion as its fans made sluggish rotations, and a house that looked to be the most patched up and worn down building of the entire farm; besides the old barn. The farm house looked like one would expect from an old farmhouse, a porch and overhang in the front, three stories, window cutouts here and there. Except there was no grass, no crops as far as the eye could see, just hard and arid ground with a scarce source of brown, dying weeds. Everything would've been fine, calm and docile, if it weren't for the presence of two people who simply couldn't let grudges go.
There was the tall one; nearly standing at seven feet, that had bland features that let him almost perfectly blend in with a crowd. He simply had this face that one could forget, yet it was also so striking that one could never forget seeing it. He had a fairly thin frame with fair-skin, eyes like roasted chestnuts, and near scarlet red hair that was pulled back like a flickering fire. He wore a white, long-sleeved shirt fit for a tuxedo with a crimson vest above it, a pair of near black pants and a pair of black, formal shoes. There was one thing about the man that made him truly stand out, a pair of crimson cat ears protruding out of his head-fake of course. These ears had been attached to his head when the protector of Nowhere took some super glue and a thing of fake cat ears to his head. Now, they were permanently attached to his glorious hair. This man was known as "Katz"; for obvious reasons.
Then there was his partner in crime; a temporarily ally. He was four foot nine and had well-defined, almost exaggerated features. His hair looked greasy from the excess gel used to comb his blue hair back into a sort of 1960's "Grease-Lightning" hair style. On his upper lip was a small and french mustache, one dark color that stood out against his vanilla white skin. His frame was like his cohort, if not thinner, and his were like black coals twinkling against a harsh light. The man's clothing was that of a sharp dresser, one that a french man might have worn; if he were a con-artist. His name was Le Quack and he was known as a ruthless, cunning criminal.
These two men stood in front of the house, glowering with dark hatred at those whom lived inside. The towering figure known as Katz held a megaphone in his right hand, draped over his forearm as he crossed both over his chest. Their demands were clear, yet the infernal man and woman inside refused to met them. It was a simple desire, give them Courage or perish. His patience was growing thin as he began gritting his teeth in aggravation. Once more he raised the megaphone to his lips, pulled the trigger, and spoke into it.
"I will not repeat myself a second time, give us the infernal boy!" He demanded with a British accent.
For a moment, there was silence, then there was another voice; a feminine voice that had a moderate brogue accent to it.
"For the las' time, he ain't here! He hasn' been here for the last five years!" Fretted the woman.
Katz began grinding his teeth in annoyance, his doubt was as strong as his hatred for the boy who'd glued the cat ears to his head. He wasn't buying the woman's claims for a moment, he refused to, he had to know for sure that his brilliant plans were truly brilliant. He had to know that his plans were cunning enough to beat even Courage, the most aggravating and pesky annoyance in all of Nowhere. Katz's free hand shot into one of his pant's pockets and riffled around in it for a moment before finally pulling out a small spheroid. It was a pristine black with one gray line going around the circumference of the ball; coming to a little circle on one side.
"If you won't send him out! Then we'll force him out!" He roared through the megaphone.
Without a second thought he pressed the button and caused the ball to extend vertically an inch before emitting a soft ticking. Katz reared his hand back and launched the spheroid at the foot of the porch's step-up. The ball ticked for a moment more before releasing what was contained inside, a monster. A monster made from a mixture of jelly candy and black tar; morphing into a formless blob. In the middle of the abundant mass was a smoldering yellow core cradled deep in the center of the blob, each time its liquid-y body jiggled it glowed brighter for a fraction of a second. The smoldering ember pulsed, sparked five times in rapid succession as six pseudopodia extrusions jutted out from its blob-like body; which began surging upwards into a bipedal stance, just above a small appendage it formed at the top of its constructed body. This extrusion was more than likely a head it had formed, it was in this head that the core shifted up to and now resided in. The blob had gone from a minuscule one foot amalgamation of black jelly and tar to a near eight foot tall abomination.
The monstrous abomination reared its head back and whipped it back to let loose a gurgling, jello roar that vibrated its entire body. Then it swung all six arms overhead and brought them down onto the overhang of the porch; making the entire house shutter with strained fury. The entire house creaked under the sudden weight, but was soon drowned out by the petrified wails of an old man and old woman. A smirk tugged at Katz lips, reveling in the fearful screams, but had it falter by the side jab delivered from his cohort.
"What are you doing?!" he chastised with his heavy french accented voice. "We want the old lady and the farmer alive if we are to make that little kiddie truly suffer!"
Katz gritted his teeth in impatient anger-more to realizing his egregious error-as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The audible snap caused the monster to rear its makeshift head around to face its creator, stopping its short lived assault in its tracks. With the monster's assault halted, Katz put the megaphone to his lips once again; cheeks heated with embarrassment.
"You're lucky that I've found my last sliver of mercy and restraint! You have two hours to produce the infernal boy before I lose my patience and release my creation upon your farm and your lives!" His voice was edgy and enraged, a startling amount for a normally level-headed man.
Thirty minutes of tense silence passed and no Courage was presented, Katz was losing his cool already; even Le Quack was getting irritated. But after the first hour mark, something happened, something rather unexpected. A worn down cab drove up to the farm with a cough and a sputter of the ancient engine, then it skidded to a halt just ten feet away from the dynamic duo of evil. The two took notice of the cab just in time to see its lone occupant depart from the vehicle; which immediately sped off into the distance. The occupant was alien to the duo, with his blue jeans, hiking boots, pink duffle bag, and pink coat with upturned hoodie. The person's head hung low as it seemed intensely interested in the barren ground it stood on, practically transfixed in its bareness.
"Huh... place hasn't changed one bit. Still no plants, not even weeds." Muttered the man with a familiar voice.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" questioned the perplexed short-stack; turning to face the new entity.
"You!" shouted an impatient Katz. "Just who do you think you are, interrupting our business pinkie?!"
The person seemed to recoil at the word, "pinkie" then his demeanor changed entirely. His grip on the duffle bag's strap tightened like a vise as his entire body trembled in concealed rage.
"Just what is, YOUR problem..." he venomously hissed. "WITH PINK!?"
His head raised from its prior view and his empty hand shot up to roughly pull down the hood of his coat. His face was revealed, his familiar, forsaken face.
"How could someone afraid of his own shadow, possibly beat me? Me! The man who's tamed a cornucopia of spiders, made an island to trick shipwrecked people into battling for my amusement, and even create monsters made of candy! How I ask you, how?!"
His skin was a smooth vanilla pigment and looked velvety soft. His eyes were striking, icy blue and his hair was bubblegum pink; quite messy and in a teased spike style. Around his neck was a necklace; or a collar if one looked at it correctly, that was a blue strap with a dog tag connected at the front, reading "Courage". His eyes were narrowed in a deathly glare at Katz, whom was speechless at the sudden appearance of his lifelong nemesis. A few seconds passed as the silence persisted before, finally, Katz spoke up.
"So, you finally decided to show your cowardly face. Now I can finally prove that my ingenious plan-" Katz started.
"Our ingenious plan..." hissed the french man.
"Our... ingenious plan is far to impressive for even the likes of you to beat, boy!" he snapped his fingers to get his monster's attention. "You, get him!"
Courage's glower shifted from Katz to the monster that was suppose to beat him, but he wished he had never seen it. The creature was an abomination; resembling the first jelly based monster he created, that nearly loomed over the farmhouse. It had multiple appendages that squiggled and jiggled in unison with its congealed body. Its head; if one could even call it that, craned down to stare at him with non-existent eyes; making Courage begin quivering in fear. At the sight of this, Le Quack and Katz both busted out in a fit of laughter, even after five years the boy was still afraid as ever. It was quite hysterical when one thought about it, but also it was a sign of the boy's enemies' downfall.
Courage's steely blue eyes shifted from side to side, sizing up the monster while simultaneously scanning it for any sort of weakness. Unlike the last jam monster he had beaten; or rather Eustache had beaten, he could not consume it as there was more than just jam making up its body. A black sludge, tar almost, inedible and more than likely scorching hot to the touch. He had to think of something and think of it fast, or else he'd became a flattened pancake. The monster's appendages raised high into the air before plummeting back down, releasing a gurgling roar from the makeshift head that jutted out of the squiggly body, this roar hurt the hero's sensitive ears and made his knees feel, ironically, like jelly from fear. But, this roar also drew attention to its makeshift head protruding from its congealed body, specifically to the smoldering ember floating in the middle of the appendage. It contrasted from the black goo that was its body and caught the eye's attention rather quickly.
The tar-jam monster raised its mighty appendages high above its head and gave a mighty roar as it brought the sledgehammer psuedopodias onto Courage. However, it hit nothing but a mixture of air and solid ground. The near rock-hard soil cracked in several jagged lines from each contact point, but there was little other damage that had been done to anything else; considering the target had evaded the strike. The monster's head-like appendage surveyed the area he'd just smash with confusion, seeing nothing but soil and air, then turned to look at the origin of a rather sharp whistle. This whistle came from the monster's right side and upon observing the origin of such an acute noise, it found its target once more. However, in its hands was a metal bat; the kind professional baseball players would use, and a hard baseball. Plastered to its face was a quivering smile; shaking in unison with its body.
"H-Hey, ugly! Ho-how about a-a little b-ball?!" Shouted the quivering figure.
The jam-tar beast gurgled in response and began sliding over to the infernal target. Its movements were like molasses, so sluggish and chunky that it made an old fashioned robot like C3PO a speedster. Courage steeled himself, convincing his mind and coercing his fears that he could do this easily, while he prepared for the manual pitch. Wait till it's a bit closer, thought the boy. He did just that, he waited and waited, and waited, then finally; when the monster was eight feet from him, tossed the ball into the air. His free hand instantly latched onto the metal bat's handle and he bent his knees while drawing the bat behind his head; to the right side. He stayed like this until the ball came back down, that's when he swung with all the might he could muster, getting a satisfying tink from the metal bat's head.
The hard baseball was sent spiraling through the air-like a speeding bullet-on a collision course for the "core" of the monster. When it entered the jam-tar substance, it made a ripple effect that jiggled its entire body. The ball's forward momentum managed to carry it through the molasses till it made contact with the core; in which the momentum was shifted to the core. This core then continued the ball's prior trajectory till it separated from the goo it had once controlled. With a "hm?" noise from the monster and its now furiously squiggling body, it began to dissipate into a pool of jam-tar. Katz and Le Quack watched with bewildered and unbelieving, wide eyes. To Katz, this was like a second murder, the second murder of his first creation; whom he vaguely considered his offspring. To Le Quack, this was a testament to just how difficult it was to beat the hero of Nowhere, if he could be the combined efforts of him and his cohort, then there plan wasn't good enough.
"You insolent little boy..." Katz hissed venomously. "You will pay!"
Before either Le Quack or Courage could acknowledge the normally mellow man's outburst, he was already charging Courage. Upon realizing, Courage was already too late. Katz was on top of him, had his hands wrapped around his neck, and had him pinned to the hard ground; with his right knee digging into his waist while his left foot pressed on Courage's left leg. The impact sent a wave of pain through his body; originating from the middle of his back and the back of his head, and forced the breath from his lungs. While he was stronger than he was before, when he was younger, he was still no match for the strength of a grown adult. He was powerless, at the mercy of Katz; whom had none to give.
Little did either cohort know; not even Courage for that matter, that there was a rather hefty figure creeping up on them. This hefty figure held in her hand a sturdy rolling pin and with one swift swipe, cracked it over Le Quack's head. Then, she proceeded up to and cracked the same rolling pin over Katz head; knocking them both unconscious. Katz toppled over Courage and Le Quack crumbled in on himself; both looked like rag-dolls at this point. Courage was quite bug eyed at the sight, but felt a wave of relief and joy upon seeing who wielding the rolling pin.
She was quite hefty with a round shape, she wore black leather boots, a pair of old looking glasses and an olive colored dress with a lemon yellow apron tied around the back. Her skin was a bit pale, but still fair. However, her skin had many wrinkles, sagging skin, and drooped down in places such as the eyelids. Her face was contorted with a mien most alien to it; which was quite evident from the way it sat on her face, that resembled a visage of anger, if not simple annoyance. The rolling pin clutched in her right hand was cracked, snapped down the center of the rolling pin like a piece of flimsy plywood board. When the bodies hit the ground, Muriel came out of the trance-like state that was her disturbing visage of anger and when she came out of the visage, the first thing her old eyes spotted was her adopted baby boy; who wasn't a baby any more.
"Courage, ya came home!" She said, beaming with her old, nostalgic joy.
"Stupid boy, what're you thinkin'?! Don't you know how to farm correctly!? It might not look it, but I use to be one heck of a farmer in my day, but now that the land has gotten as old as I am, it ain't no longer able to support more than wilting weeds..."
Before the boy had realized it, he was pulled into a deathly bear hug; which nearly crushed the life from his somewhat frail body, by Muriel. She reached down and slipped him out from under that horrid man who'd dared hurt her child and then pulled him to her chest in a sweet and joyous, albeit deathly embrace. Despite the feeling of near crushing pressure, Courage couldn't help but let a grin spread across his lips. This feeling was also nostalgic, joyfully so as the memories of how good it felt to be hugged by his adopted mother. The warmth of her embrace was nice, quite nice, light headed-ly nice, why was it starting to get so black? Why did black dots start to ink out his vision? Why could he see a bright white light radiating from the sky as he felt his lungs wheezing for air?
"M-Muriel... I... can't... breathe..." murmured Courage, coughing and wheezing in between each word.
"Oh!" shouted the woman as she released her deathly hold over the boy. "I apologize Courage, I guess I just didn' realize how much I've missed ya."
The hero of Nowhere plops down onto weak knees, lungs rasping for air like ravenous dogs come for the seconds after a mauling, and back hunched over. He was short, this was true; standing at about five feet and nine inches, but hunching over had made him shorter than even his adopted mother; which made him a tad bit embarrassed. After finally getting his second wind, he found it time to stand to his full height once again. It was in this time he asked his adopted mother to return to his home, original home, with her. Gladly she said yes, taking her adopted son in; but not before he made a hushed threat to Katz and his cohort.
"Listen K-Katz" he said shakily; trying to muster up as threatening of a voice as possible. "If you g-gun for my f-family ever a-a-again, then I a-am gonna glue m-more than just c-cat ears on yo-your head ne-next time."
Then with that, she happily brought him into his old house. It was there that he had tea and vinegar cookies with his adopted mother and adopted father; who looked about as ancient as Muriel. He didn't seem that elated at the return of his adopted son-on the outside-but on the inside felt a half-fatherly pride at how much his adopted son had grown up. They lived quite happily ever after, if there was ever such a thing.
"I see... I seeee... I seeeeeeeee... a boy... turning into a man, he has a road full of hardships, yet full of love. From many people, all whom he's helped, all whom believe in his courage. I am one such person, adopted son of the stupid one."
Le Quack gripped his head; biting his lip to keep his cries of agony from escaping, as he limped over to his cohort. He shook Katz awake and took his arm around his own shoulder and began limping away with him. With a strained breath and a fiery hatred in his eyes, he cursed the house, cursed those inside of it with a deathly hex. He wished them great misfortune and under his breath he muttered a venomous, final word to the damned house.
"Be weary of these words I spit, you accursed boy! When you least expect it, when your guard has dropped and you rest peacefully in your cozy bed, snuggled up to a cold pillow while wrapped in a warm blanket cocoon, I'll be there! Waiting, watching, ready to grab and wring that thin neck of yours! Just you wait you mutt... I'll be the end of you yet!"
While he spat bitter insults, he couldn't help but feel happy inside. Finally, he thought, one who can truly match me in wits. This was the start of something new, something grande, something... Courageous.
Courage: The ability to do something despite one's fears
In the end, the boy was happy; for a while. He had returned to his original home and had once again taken up his title as Nowhere's defender. He stood there, fighting against all odds with both body and mind. He fought against the wicked, the supernatural, the unknown, with great fear, but also great resolve. No matter how much he feared something; and believe you me he feared a lot of things, he would always protect that which he loved. He would protect his home, no matter what the cost. All his enemies would tremble, fear, realize, and acknowledge his supremacy; whether or not they openly showed it.
But, all things have to come to an end, correct? He had suppose to have spent only four years in a far off place, yet he staid for five. He was bored and still bored of the emptiness and almost routine problems of Nowhere. What was the point of having a fun life if he did the same thing day and night in and day and night out? There was no true fun to that kind of life, only fear and stress. Yet, he came back and staid, so there must of been something in this life that he enjoyed. Right?
However, he didn't realize that the end was coming. An end to put a stop to ALL ends, when it would come, no one knew. However, when it did, there would be only one who would die. He'd have to make the choice of whom to sacrifice, but when it really came down to it, could he willingly send someone to their death?
Thankfully though, he didn't need to worry of that superfluous extremity. All he needed to worry about was his family, protecting Nowhere, things that concerned him. Worry about young romance, daily life problems, things of the adolescent man nature. When he was needed, he would act. Nothing more.
So, this so happens to be the end of our little one shot. Now, I shath be honest with thee, loyal graveyard ghosts and ghouls, I wanted to make this much, much longer. For, you see, I was hoping to put an EEEENTIIIIRE "episode" I suppose into this one thing. I was hoping to hit 15-30k words in one-one shot. But, I suppose, for now, this will do. Until I have more free time that is. So for now, I am happy with this ending. Soooooo... see you ghosts and ghouls... later...?
BYE BYE!