Hey guys! Big Diesel, here. This particular arc was inspired by a story that I have read. So, this will be the kind of story that will be the mysterious, picking-with-your-brain type. I have always enjoyed stories that make me think and question the things around me. To avoid further conclusion, here is the synopsis: After ten years of being away from home, Jaune returns back to his village. Despite not knowing the reason of his departure, it still brings him nightmares. His fears are being put to the test as he discovers the very thing that perpetuated his departure. Will it resolve his fear or make it worse? Stay tuned and find out!
It started with a nosebleed. Instinctively, he went into his pocket to retrieved his handkerchief. Monogrammed were his initials. It was a parting gift, sewn by the fickle hands of his mother after leaving the countryside many years ago.
It has to be the elevation.
A formidable excuse as he exchanged his business suit for a simple pair of a plain t-shirt and blue jeans. The simple days. The days of the innocence. Days that he enjoyed, coveted, regretted, repressed.
What made me leave my home? What nature propelled me to break a shell that was once my home?
His mother called him fickle or better yet delicate. Jaune was careful in placing the right words in a sentence, as if he was reaching for the right piece in a puzzle. Cautious should have been a better term.
I should be arriving soon at any moment.
He was a lone minnow in the can of sardines, tightly compacted in the train to the next town. Surprised with the revelation of the unexpectancy of visitors going to his next destination, the town was not even spotted on any major maps. The connections were not going to any major towns. The train route was very local within the surrounding counties. Nevertheless, he had to make due for the few hour journey to the next town. If there was a bright side to the journey, it gave Jaune a sense of wonder, and also the train conductor gave the uncomfortable, irritated passengers a free meal and a discount on their next visit with their train line. A silver lining in every stitch of life, he concluded.
He didn't bring anything with him. He had hoped for it to be a day trip. He didn't even inform his parents that he was coming. Would they be surprised? Would he be welcomed? Was he missed? His sisters? What would they think of him for being gone this long?
Too many questions is bad for the brain. Like a congestion, it clouds your judgement.
He returned his handkerchief to his pocket, covering the unmarked part over his blood. He made a mental note to take it to the dry cleaners along with his suit. It wasn't long before his weekly visit.
He took steady breaths as he was the approaching sign, welcoming the passengers to his village. He compared himself to an olive, being pressed, releasing its juices. He felt pressed, better yet depressed, as if a force was trying to dispel anything of worth from him.
Why in the hell am I returning here? What reason do I need to be here? What made me leave my home? What nature propelled me to break a shell that was once my home?
He gritted his teeth, ingesting nothing but that words of should've, would've, could've. What good was it going to bring, he thought to himself. Before taking the train to this destination, he was having a reoccuring dream. He couldn't remember it visually, always clicks and flashes like a camera. But the sounds, the haunting sounds pierced fiercely into his ears. Soft, delicate, like a snake slithering in the grass. Like a ghost praying for the dead. Darkness consumed his dream, but that voice brought more of his senses.
He could never decipher the language, but he knew it was to be feared.
His home wasn't home from the village square. It wasn't a hop and a skip, but wasn't worth the cab fare. His father would scold if he knew if he took a cab to their home. Jaune wanted the exercise. It was nature. It was his home. To breath again the untainted air compared to his city life. To think such force propelled him to leave the confines of his home.
It has nearly been ten years.
The woods were silent.
The woods were hot and still. Not a breeze stirred.
The woods were always quiet. It never had the owls screeching, or the wolves howling. The place wasn't even close to what the myths had told the town people. Yet no one dared to walk through the woods, neither would they speak of it. The birds wouldn't fly over it, like they could even sense the evil in there.
This path led to his home. No matter what the village elders told the Arc family, his father never believed in such rumors, hearsays to the fearful. Jaune wanted to believe his father. He really did. It was too bad that he didn't have further opportunity to back him up.
His father went to be with Oum over a couple of years ago. One of his sisters discovered him lying face down in the fields. It was a closed casket funeral for its a decision of the crows to do their version of a bereavement.
The cause of death was a heart attack. No further investigation needed. Jaune didn't participate in the proceedings of planning the funeral. He didn't come to the funeral. He send flowers to his family. Nothing more, nothing less.
You coward!
Two words, lasted in split seconds on the message machine in his apartment. Jaune heard the startled, disappointed voice of his sister, Jeanette. Few calls came from acquaintances, colleagues, sending their condolences. A shell was formed. A shell he created. An invisible protective layer to shield away any source of fear.
A fear he had shielded until now.
'You created this protective layer to protect yourself from that day.' It was the stern, but firm voice of his therapist as he lied on the cushioned chaise longue. Something about the scribbling of her writing calmed him, giving him some resolution of sorts. It was obvious that he wasn't there for such reason. It all had to do with his dream.
'How can you be so certain that it is real. For all I know, it must have been a dream.'
'Not according to your uncle. Since you were a child, I have been treating you about this repression of yours, Jaune,' replied the therapist. 'Your dreams were based on an event that happened to you when you were younger.'
'Doc, I am not questioning your logic. I don't remember.'
She tapped the pen. 'Digression and repression is a common occurrence. Should I explain the incident or would you rather tell?'
He widened his eyes, displaying frustration. 'Doc, I am paying you to tell me to solve the problems of these repetitive dreams. I want solace. I want peace.'
She nodded her head. 'Agreed. You want solace. You want peace. However, in order to make these things happen, you must go to the source. Shall I explain the incident or would you rather tell?'
Jaune remained quiet. He watched the window outside as rain cascaded from the heavens. Grayness enveloped the room. He heard the therapist tapped the pen a little louder on her notepad.
Shall I explain the incident or would you rather tell?
Shall I explain the incident or would you rather tell?
Shall I explain the incident or would you rather tell?
Shall I explain the incident or would you rather tell?
"I want to get away from here!"
"Help me! Mama! Papa! Joan! Jeanette! Jamie! Somebody!"
"She is after me. She is after me."
"I don't want to be under her web. Please Oum, help me, please!"
Blood trickled from his nose. No longer was he in the therapist's office. Rain wasn't cascading from the heavens. He was on the heavily beaten footpath to his home.
My mother told me I just suddenly lost it and I didn't want to return back home. I felt demonized whenever I saw the home within its vicinity according to my mother. I would grip harshly to them, screaming that I didn't want to go back there.
Jaune was certain, even to this day, that he didn't have any memory of what happened that day over ten years ago. He told his mother and his therapist that he didn't have any recollection of the memory.
He saw his house from the distance. The terrace house that he is now more of a visitor than a member. Each step, he felt the pressure edging closer and closer. This dream, this incident has affected the blonde in many ways.
Thus, the reason why he had decided to return after so many years.
'Look at this as a rationale of sorts, Mr. Arc,' explained his therapist. 'In order to solve a problem, we must look to the source. The tried-and-true philosophy of going back to the origin could bring your dreams to rest. Give you closure, resolution.'
'Will it, doc? Will it solve my problem?'
'I can't answer that for you, Jaune. This is a journey that you must solve for yourself.'
"A journey I must solve for myself." The terraced house was facing in the center of the woods. His question resided in his mind.
The answer could be standing in front of him.
Why in the hell am I returning here? What reason do I need to be here? What made me leave my home? What nature propelled me to break a shell that was once my home?
To be continued...
Update: I have received some concern about the premise of this story. Granted, this story is loosely based on the manga of the same name, I have my own take on how I want to use this. As a reminder, this is FANFICTION. For my devoted fans, one should trust me on how I do my stories. I appreciate the concern of my readers as well as the criticism. Also, if my stories don't meet your standards, I sincerely apologize. That is why I enjoy the abundances of stories that can fit certain people's taste. Anyway, stay tuned for the works (and the eventual part two's and three's) coming soon! Happy Reading!