*So, let's see, it's been another month and a half since I've updated…shit. Well, at least I'm regular (dude, I just said that like I was talking about my menstrual cycle, ftw and wtf at the same time!) Right so, I'm pretty jacked up on whatever pills I'm taking at this point, and if you haven't noticed, I usually am when I write and update. It's a Thursday and I'm a junior in high school. What the hell do you expect? Seriously though, I have a history paper due in a week (a pretty decent sized one) and I just wrote my outline…dude, it was 7 pages long! And I only used like 30 fucking note cards, what the hell? Some people had like 200 note cards for an 8-page paper. I started with 50, and I had to trim it down to 30 for fear that my outline would be bigger than my actual paper! WTF!? Dude, what do you expect when you give me a broad topic like the Roaring Twenties! OMG! This is going to be one hell of a weekend. Anyway, without further adieu, here's you crappy random story of doom that I wrote in like 3 nights with several weeks in between. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was—there is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke: peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death.
- Nick Bottom, A Midsummer Night's Dream 4.1 (I played him in our class's Midsummer. It was awesome…P.S. I don't own anything I happen to mention in my story…especially Naruto).
Particularly Appropriate Music: Climbing up the Walls- Radiohead, #1 Crush- Garbage, They are the Night Zombies! They Are Neighbors! They have come back from the Dead! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!- Sufjan Stevens, Where I end and you Begin- Radiohead, To Forgive- Smashing Pumpkins, The Cold Part- Modest Mouse
A Series of Incoherent Musings #2 (Shikamaru): Climbing up the Walls
I had a bad feeling. It was dark, and this wasn't any normal darkness either. My eyes would not seem to adjust to it at all; it just didn't seem right. I became especially suspicious when I realized that, even though the world around me was too dark to see a thing, I could still clearly see my body, and in vivid color at that.
Now, I may not be a scientist (or anything or the sort for that matter) but I know enough about physics to understand that when you can't see five inches in front of you, you're definitely not supposed to be able to see yourself at all, let alone in Technicolor.
I was only certain of one thing: wherever I was, it was troublesome. For some reason, the thought never crossed my mind that I had no idea how I got to this place; in fact, my brain really didn't seem to be working correctly. I couldn't seem to piece anything together, and that's never happened to me before. At least, not that I could remember.
After a long, drawn-out sigh, I made the executive decision so start walking around, thinking that perhaps I would run into something helpful.
My sense of time and distance was very off. I couldn't tell you how long or how far I'd walked it I tried. In the back of my mind, there was a lingering sense that I had forgotten something of grave importance, yet every time I tried to make sense of the feeling, it found away to elude my grasp.
I tried not to think about the darkness itself, for I knew that if I were to really observe it, I would most likely go insane. Neji had told me once, "Darkness of place is darkness of mind. If you're every in the dark, try not to think." I tried to grin at the memory, or even at the fact that his advice seemed to come in handy in the strangest situations, but my inherent anxiety transformed the expression into a nervous smile.
A flash of scarlet. I immediately jerked my head up, thinking that perhaps I was imagining things. Squinting to get a better view from this distance, I saw it again. I was certain that I had, but one can never be sure of anything in the dark. Keeping a shred of hope alive, I sprinted towards it, but even I couldn't have predicted what I found.
It was a figure: ruby locks fell wildly around a face as pale as snow. Dark rings framed aqua eyes that were so bright that they almost seemed to glow. He was dressed simply, in all white, something I'd never seen him wear. It was Gaara, and he looked weaker than I'd ever seen him. In fact, I was surprised that he was still able to stand.
"Shikamaru," he murmured in that all too familiar voice. "…How?" He attempted to stagger over to me, but his legs quickly gave out. I dashed over, catching him before he hit the ground. He grabbed my shirt with a fists clenched so tight that I was shocked that he didn't rip the material, and when he looked up at me with those eyes, eyes so very blue and fearful, I was at a loss for words. "Why…are you here Shikamaru?" He whispered weakly. "You have to leave!"
At this point, though I couldn't explain why, I was absolutely petrified. Eyes wide, I attempted to calm myself down but failed spectacularly. "I…I-I'm not leaving you," I managed to stammer out. Gaara smiled sadly.
"My life for yours,"(1) he murmured finally. And then I panicked.
"What?" I uttered breathlessly, uncaring that I had broken my sacred creed. Before he could even begin to answer, the darkness began to shift, and I was moving away from him at a rapid pace. I tried to move, to run back towards him, but my body seemed to be immobilized; it wouldn't budge an inch. I heard his voice again, soft and calm, "My life for yours." Terror-stricken, I did the only thing I could: I screamed bloody murder.
"Gaara!! Gaara!! Come back! Don't do this! Not for me!! GAARA!!" I cried and yelled, pulling frantically against my invisible restraints. "GAARA!!!!"
I snapped awake in Temari's bed, my own screams still echoing through my mind. I tried to slow my panic-attack-like breathing, even so, still barely able to catch my breath. Eyes wide, I managed to whisper the only word I could think of to describe that experience, "Troublesome…"
I forced myself to sit up so that I could get a good view of the clock that sat on Temari's nightstand. It read 7:50a.m. Great! Just fucking great! I'd hardly been asleep an hour, and I was already being plagued by strange, troublesome dreams. I wanted to do nothing more than to lie back down on the bed, forget I ever woke up, and continue my nap well into the afternoon, but I knew that, after a nightmare like that, I would never be able to just go right back to sleep. I sighed; there was only one way to stifle my worries, and that was to check on Gaara.
Groaning, I decided to get this over with, so I rolled out of bed and stumbled my way into the hall. Okay, this was going to be very simple: I would make my trek over to Gaara's room, gently open the door and step it; then, I would proceed to look over the room and find Gaara fast asleep in bed; I would quietly make my way over to him; if his fever was down or the same, I would turn to leave; if his fever rose, I'd give him, another Advil and wait for it to take effect; if it still didn't take effect…I'd have to take him to the doctor, and…well, let's just say I'd prefer if that didn't happen. Well, anyway, somehow, someway, I'd end up continuing my nap, eventually.
I would have continued to plan ahead, but I was already at Gaara's room when I got to scenario 4. All went according to plan, as I gently opened the door and stepped in. Step 1 and 2, check. But it was when I advanced to step 3 that things went awry: there was no sleeping Gaara lying on the bed. In fact, there was no Gaara.
"Shit," I hissed as the greater implications of that realization hit me. Where the hell was that redhead of mine? I ran through the doorway, slamming the door open in the process. "Gaara! Gaara!" I called as I dashed through the hallway. I racked my brain for an answer. Where was he and why the hell wasn't he responding? "The bathroom?" I thought warily, unsure of anywhere else he could be, but that still didn't explain why he wasn't responding!
Out of any real possibilities, I decided that the bathroom was my only option and headed there. The door was closed, suggesting that there was most likely someone in there. Keeping a shred of decency, I knocked. There was no response, and that unnerved me. "Gaara," I called again, softer this time. Still no answer. I opened the door, but…sadly, I never expected what I found.
Gaara was lying face down on the bathroom floor, right hand, outstretched as if he was reaching out to me, his left lay closer to his body, his legs were askew, and he was noticeably shaking. His position suggested that he had been leaning on the toilet when he collapsed.
I quickly snapped myself out of my shock and dashed towards the unconscious redhead. I pulled Gaara into mu arms, cradling him, and loudly called his name. The only response I received was the fluttering of his eyelids.
"Gaara!" I called louder, sternly almost. I hated using that tone; it made me feel too high strung, but something about that kid always made me get like this.
The redhead moaned as he forced himself awake at the sound of my voice. In this light, his eyes opened to reveal a soft turquoise.
"Sh…Shika…?" I buried my head in his shoulder, relieved and nodding.
"You're such an idiot…" He smiled weakly.
"I'm sorry I didn't wake you-"
"No you're not," I cut in. "You probably had your fingers crossed the whole time I made you promise to come get me." Before he could get another word in, I felt his forehead. "And now I think your fever's up." He curled into my lap.
"Have you been feeling sick? Maybe I'm contagious," he murmured.
"You shouldn't be worrying about me; I'm not the one who collapsed on the bathroom floor." I sighed as he looked away sheepishly. "I can tell you weren't just here for a routine trip to the bathroom anyway." His face fell at my observation.
"…I threw up," he confessed like a child explaining to their mother that they broke an expensive keepsake.
"Okay! Now I'm pissed! You definitely should have gotten me up!" He looked to the floor apologetically, mirroring a beaten puppy. My eyes softened at this; I sighed and hugged him. "Sorry," I uttered, calming down, "I didn't mean to yell. I'm just…" I ran a hand through my hair, trying to wrap my mind around the entire situation. "I…I don't even know what I am. God, you drive me nuts, sometimes." He nodded lightly into my chest.
"It's okay." Sighing again, I continued to speak whatever happened to come to my mind.
"You couldn't have thrown up much anyway," I pondered aloud. "You haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon."
"Yeah…it was mostly acid, and-" he stopped short.
"Gaara," I called hesitantly, as he neglected to finish his thought.
"Shikamaru," he began, "I think I'm going to be sick."
My mind seemed to go blank at this point; I was running on pure instinct alone. Immediately, I helped him over to the toilet. He was shaking…a lot. I did my best to hold him steady, and we waited. Then, as if a chemical reaction had been set off in his stomach, he retched. Unsure of what to do, I gently rubbed circles on his back, and by the time he had finished, he had vomited and dry heaved twice. Exhausted, panting, and racked with tremors, he fell back against me. I lightly fingered his crimson tresses as he closed his eyes, attempting to catch his breath.
But, as soon as he had calmed himself, his eyes snapped back open, and he was leaning against the toilet again, throwing up. This made absolutely no sense. He had dry heaved twice, and now he was vomiting up bile again? How is that even possible? I mean, he hadn't even eaten in long over half a day, so what could he possibly be throwing up? I didn't know why at the time, but something about this illness perturbed me.
He collapsed in a heap back into my lap. He swallowed, breath hitching every so often. The poor kid seemed to be in a lot of pain. Then, he buried his face in the crook of my neck, grabbing my shirt in a vice grip. And I got that bad feeling again.
"Oh my God," I murmured in disbelief as his turquoise eyes were overcome with that horrible pitch black again. "Oh my God." He stared through me, to something far off in the distance beyond the walls of the house, mouth agape. Then, I felt it, coiling around my legs. I started, quickly looking to the floor. You know that black mist that I've been seeing in Gaara's eyes? Well, it was surrounding us, seeping in through the cracks of the door and windows, from behind the mirror, even from the pipes of the bathtub and sink.
I shivered, feeling suddenly freezing as the mist began to take form around us; I swear I could see my breath in the air, and I held Gaara tightly to my body as the mist began spiraling around him.
"Get out!" I shouted frantically and childishly. "Go away!!" The mist took no heed, and I lost it as Gaara's irises became completely black, resembling Kankuro's in a disturbing sort of way. "Gaara," I called anxiously, uncertainly.
He looked up, moving like a possessed doll. His expression completely blank and mouth still agape. He cocked his head, as if confused at my fear.
"Gaara!!" I screamed. He did not answer, only staring straight into my eyes, I shivered again, and though I hate to admit it, it was more from fear than the sudden chill of the room. The dark mist was still coiled loosely around him like a snake.
I gripped his shoulders forcefully. "Gaara!! Snap out of it!! GAARA!!!" Seemingly unaffected by my cries, he slowly and smoothly moved his hand up to cup my cheek. Completely dumbfounded and terrified, I could only stare as he mouthed something inaudibly as if talking to an entity that only he could hear, and then, I snapped.
I grabbed him, still shaking with fear, and held him tightly against me. "Gaara," I pleaded, "It's me. It's Shikamaru! Your Shikamaru!" Gaara remained unchanged, as if I hadn't said anything at all. Gritting my teeth, I screamed finally, "Wake up! Listen to me!! I don't know what you're dealing with but fight it!! Please, Gaara!!!" The mist diffused from around his body and gathered in the center of the room, adjacent to the mirror, before finally melting away into nothingness. And as soon as it did, Gaara's eyes returned to their normal bright hue , before closing as he fainted. He collapsed, head resting on my shoulder, and he went limp in my arms. I had never been so relieved and scared in my entire life.
Unfortunately, I stood corrected as I looked to where the mist had disappeared, for there, in bold, on the mirror, was written "Next time, Shikamaru, next time." in what looked like black blood. Oh yeah, I was getting that bad feeling all right. A bad feeling indeed.
*Epic fail!! Yeah, I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but at least the plot appears to be sort of moving…kind of. Oh! And for those of you who want to see some other characters, you'll get your chance with my next update! I have to admit, this one seems shorter than my other chapters. I wonder why. Until next time, friends! I bid you adieu.
1- the most out of context Midsummer quote EVER! In context, this is actually a funny line. Wtf?