From the author of
An Autobiography of Vincent Valentine
Phoenix Down.

Part Kappa
Hod

"This is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper." (T.S. Eliot, 'The Hollow Man.')

"So, where are you from? You have a hometown?"
"Not really. No."
"Uhm... I'm from Mideel, originally."
"Really? Where's that?"
"For off- to the East. I think. From here. Small town."
"Oh."
"So... what do your parent's do?"
"My mother's name was Jenova. She died giving birth to me... My father?" He shook his head, chuckled, and stopped himself.
She paused.
"So... uhm, what brought you into SOLDIER?"
"Honestly?" He asked.
"Yeah. Honestly."
"I want to become a great soldier, like Alexander- but even greater."
"Your friends told me that you sing."
"Well, not really."
"Not really?"
"Not much anymore, anyway. I like music- classical music, mostly."
"Oh."

Sephiroth and Katrina sat together while talking quietly on a cool winter's day. It was raining heavy, frosted, raindrops outside. The weather smeared itself against the windows, and battered the rooftops with tiny rhythmic feet.

It was a Sunday morning, and they met for coffee.

"I like all kinds of music..." She began. She figured out quickly that getting him to volunteer information about himself was as easy as pulling teeth from a crocodile with a pair of pliers.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Well, uhm, blues, jazz, a LITTLE classic. Alternative. I really like-like- that kind of music, you know? Light rock."

Sephiroth's expression was somewhat blank. He did not want to look disgusted, but he was by no means a fan of rock.
Musically, he could appreciate it- and even understand it, but it just was not his forte.
He slid a lock of his lengthy silver hair behind his ear. He glanced out the window.
"Penny for your thoughts?" She asked.
"Oh- uh- Just thinking-"
"About?" She raised a brow and quipped a grin.
"Hojo."
"And he's-?"
"An... A- uh, doctor. Professor, actually. I donno."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. He had a lot to do with my life, you know."
"Oh." She decided not to push it any further. The look in his great green eyes was distant.


As the weeks progressed, Sephiroth and Katrina were seen more and more often together. He would meet other women, but they would not strike his fancy as she had. She was gentle, awkward, sometimes even aggressive, but in the end- understood his ways- and gave him space.
Sephiroth was quick to temper.
His moods quickly fluxgates.
He needed a lot of time alone.

He was quick to laugh, and even quicker to stop laughing.

Often he would space out, as if deep in pensive thought about something, and never wanted to be asked on what it was he was reflecting upon.
Often, it was about Hojo...
And Jenova.

He snapped when asked about that.

She was very easygoing, and relatively patient with him and his eccentricities.






Eventually, she asked him to evaluate the relationship- where were they going?



He smiled strangely.



Then, he said,


"Well, I THOUGHT we were going out..."


She giggled, then said,


"Tacking the word, 'boyfriend' on to you seems sort of weird."


He chuckled.


Then, said nothing more about it.


~


I never realized just how human he was.
They don't tell you that he feels nervous around women in history books and in news articles.

Sure, he went mad later on.

But in the beginning he was just like you, just like me.

Shit, that makes you think, don't it?

Made me think, anyway.

Made me think about my life, and what's goin' on now.

When Sephiroth finished talking that evening- about Katrina- or whatever her name was, something like that, he had a mysterious grin on his sharp face. It was sort of evil, lurking, and at the same time, really funny.
I don't know.
He rubbed his throat, and left down the endless dark hallway.
I stopped the tape and put it with the others I had.
It was early morning out when he ended.

Time is a weird thing; I think I loose time, or time gets all fucked up when I'm in the basement.
Because I remember when I started talking to him, it was light out, the next thing I knew it was dark, now it's light again.
I have NO CLUE on the time right now.
It could be three months from now from when this all started happening, hell, I don't know. Maybe it's in the past... Jesus.

After I left the basement, I made a decision; I am going to leave, and not come back. I'm tiered of this nonsense.
I KNOW Sephiroth is dead
I KNOW that.

I'm tiered of not knowing what time it is.

I'm tiered of being freaked out, of not sleeping at night, or at anytime.
You know what?
Did I tell you about the few times that I HAVE fallen asleep?
No?
Well, I'm having these fucked up nightmares.
Yeah, that's right.

I don't even want to talk about them; Sephiroth is in them, and so are those freaky red eyes that spoke to me when I was taking a walk that one-day.
God.
Ever since this whole thing started I've become more and more intertwined with Sephiroth's interviewing, that's why I hate it, that's why I hate this whole thing. It has become my whole life.
That, and I don't know what's going on.
Is this all a dream, a hallucination, is this all inside my head?
I DON'T KNOW~!

And what's with the hallway?!
What's with those drawings?!
What was with that voice and those red eyes that once day!?
Did I really see and hear it!?



I' giving up; I don't care if I'm breaking my lease or not, I'm just getting up and leaving, taking some of my savings from the Bank of Kalm and going.

I don't want to really LEAVE town, just find someplace else to live for a little while, that's all.

That very afternoon, I did just that. I took my records out from the basement, packed all my things, (TV, radio, clothes, a couple of small pieces of furniture,) called my friend, Jon, and told him that I was moving in.
Jon's a really cool guy; he was surprised to hear from me though.

"Dude, you haven't called me in how long, and now you want to move IN?"
I told him that I thought that I was loosing my mind, that this was really serious, and it would just be for a couple of weeks, tops, just until things start calming down in my life.

He understood, plus, he didn't have a TV, I did, and I was taking it with me, so it was ok.
He kind of took it as an early mid-life crisis.

I asked Jon how long it's been since I called him. Last I remember it was like, two weeks ago.

He's said that it has been three months. He thought that I was dead or something. He said that he's left at least seven messages on my machine, and then gave up.

I don't know, I think it was that time thing.

It took all afternoon, and I didn't take everything from my apartment that I was planning on taking.
He said that I looked like shit, said I lost like thirty pounds. I don't know, I haven't been paying attention to any of that.
Jon is also a writer, but not like I am. That's how we started out being friends. He writes epic novels that are completely brilliant- but has never had any of them published. I bet he could if he tried.

He works as a manager for a pharmaceutical warehouse for a living. Works with a bunch of guys who don't speak English.

"So, dude, how long were you plan on stayin' again?" He asked as we dumped the last bit of the shit that I was taking into the threshold of his apartment.
I told him that I didn't know, as soon as things were going to start to calm down.
"Do you... want to talk about it, hoss?"
I told him, fuck no.
Fuck no.
Fuck no.

He then nodded, and offered me a beer.

I took the beer, and threw myself onto his sofa.

My head span, and I felt relived that I was away from the basement of my apartment building. Accidentally, I took the tapes and a couple of the photos with me. They were in my coat pocket.


He sighed, and began moving my stuff into the spare bedroom. He's a good guy, Jon. I owe him a lot.

I dozed off into sunless gray dreams.

The window in the apartment was open, and as I slept on the couch, a light-drifting zephyr slid into the room. She touched me with her slender fingers of breezes and wind kisses.

I woke up slowly.

It must have been around midnight, or so.

I was starting to feel a little calmer, a little saner, and a whole lot better, by just being away for a while.
I felt like me again.
I realized when I woke up just how dehydrated and hungry I was.

I raided Jon's fridge and cupboards, then plopped myself in front of the TV and watched a whole bunch of infomercials
The glow of the television danced across the splintered shadows of the midnight room.

"Oxy Clean Equals OXY fresh! Just OXY the stain out, vola! SEE The STAIN Is Gone!!! Isn't That AMAZING!?"
"Wow, Author! I've Never Seen Anything So Clean, And Look At That! Instantly CLEAN! Just Look At My Grout, OXY Clean Cleans My Garage, My Cat Box, My Bathroom, My Bedroom, My Laundry, My Husband's Dirty-Cheating Ways, My Dishwasher, My Oven, It Turns All My Kid's Report Cards Into Strait A's!!"
"Wow!"
"WOW!"
"OXY CLEAN!!!!!!"

I love infomercials. Strait out lies. Makes me feel so comfortable and safe in the world knowing that there is a product in the world that is so fucking wonderful, that they can go on for ten strait hours about it with smiles. Must be some cleaning product. I thought for a second there that he was going to cum all over himself because he was so ecstatic about this Oxy thing.
If I was Arthur, I'd shoot myself.
I mean, who can keep a strait face that long? If I were him, I'd be cracking up during the taping of that commercial. I mean, come on, be serious!?
Oxy fucking Clean.
I want to order that shit.

I paused, and sighed, and flipped the channel. Another infomercial. The Sowakowa Pillow.
Great, it's a pillow that's also a can opener, and a head massage.
Am I really that sarcastic and jaded?
Nooooooo...

I'm really not; it's just been lately, ever since this Sephiroth thing started, I've just been questioning everything that's been real. That's all.
Fuck, I have the tapes in my pocket, don't I?
I've been thinking too much, too.

I turn off the TV when it occurred to me that the Sephiroth tapes were with my things.

I glanced over my shoulder and over the sofa backing. I could have sworn that I heard something, or someone.
Great, now I'm paranoid.

I got up off the sofa, and walk into my guest room. Jon was dead asleep; I heard his soft snoring...

I dug through my things until I uncovered my coat, and I took out the photos and the tapes.
I flipped through the photos that I head- I left many of them back in the basement.

The drawings. The photos of the drawings were a little hazy and blurry for some odd reason, even though the conditions for the picture were perfect when I took them.

I found an old pencil on the floor.

I squinted in the pale, blue, night-light that slid through the far window of the mostly empty room. I was trying to make out the images in the photograph. I wanted to reproduce them, I wanted to know what those one-winged angel drawings really meant; I wanted to show Jon. My curiosity was flicking madly.

I started to draw on the walls- just what they looked like.

I wound up drawing all night, and by the time that I was done, the entire room was plastered in chaotic one winged angel drawings- like they were in the basement.

I also covered up all the ventilations, windows, and doors. I could have sworn that I heard Sephiroth's voice somewhere, and I didn't want him or that hallway appearing in my room. I ducted taped the vents, covered up all cracks, flipped the bed in front of the window and ducted taped that there, and taped the cracks around the door.







I felt like that was the only way that I could sleep again, because I SWORE that I heard Sephiroth's voice.

I curled up on Jon's guest room's hard wood floor, and tried not to twitch.
God, I had to piss, too.