Note: I will not accept any flames, however, comments and criticisms are welcome. I am under the assumption that anyone reading this has a clear understanding of the difference between flames and criticisms so I don't have to explain it. Here are some reason why I don't accept flames: 1) they generally include an attack on the author's character without regard to previous or future works that may or may not be in the same vein, 2) not only are they childish, but they make the writer of them sound immature and not old enough to read the material contained herein, 3) flames help neither the author nor the flamer to improve the work and, therefore, are not constructive, 4) if something is so offensive as to elicit the impulse to flame then it is better forgotten and not dwelled upon, 5) you waste time writing it and I waste time reading and then deleting it, 6) it won't do you any good to point out my lack of scruples, morals, intelligence, sanity, etc., because not only don't I care, but I won't listen.
Elend
It could feel the years, though time held no true meaning, and dry rasp of flesh against stone, though true pain had long since abandoned it. Back and forth it crawled, wearing down the floor beneath its withered body, and every now and then it paused, head tilted towards the ceiling. Past the leagues separating the two, it could feel him and the ones before it.
Countless shattered minds, each babbling incoherently, scurried about the periphery of its madness. They all knew what he felt, desired, sought with deadly tenacity: innocence, purity and the Fount from which both poured. He had yet to find the Fount of endless purity. It knew this with the certainty of a child, for indeed the remnants of its mind were childlike.
Cold. Everything. No warmth filled the creature's bloodless body and only dim memories, perhaps only delusional moments of lucidity, of the sun let it know the lack of heat. Other memories, as it called them during pauses, flittered about the dark corners of its mind. Someone called a name and a sweet voice answered. Other times a pair of blinding green eyes filled its head and horror of such a vision sent the creature into fits of convulsive screams.
He had left it ages ago to creep a singular path across its stone prison, yet even longer had he kept it close by his side. Whispering little endearments even as he drained it of all vitality, he spoke of the dark beginnings of the world and of the ultimate sacrifice, his sacrifice. And it had lay adoring at his feet, loving and hating him with a passion only the Fount could feel. He was its god, and he had abandoned it for richer pastures, purer souls.
"Cold…My wings…Gone…Please. Please," the broken voice repeated, no longer dulcet. He had taken its wings and left nothing but unnatural life.
* * *
The petite girl lay with closed eyes upon her bed and came to a startling realization. Suddenly and for the first time, she understood why her unwilling fiancé always caused her such pain. In fact, the revelation so took her by surprise that she jolted upright and stared about the familiar room in shock. However, the obstinacy of her character quickly justified her newfound knowledge and neatly tucked it away. With a sigh she lay back down and continued her musing, the epiphany forgotten.
The question Tendo Akane pondered was why did her fiancé's actions bother her so much? After all, she hadn't been thrilled to learn of her sudden engaged status and even less thrilled upon meeting her groom-to-be. Without the long gone realization, she found herself starting again from square one.
She heaved a sigh and rolled over onto her side. What use did she have for a gender bending, poly-affianced fiancé? Why did she even care that he had more fiancées and admirers? Why couldn't they ever have a civil conversation?
Finding her new position uncomfortable, and the blooming of several new questions irritating, she rolled onto her other side. A yawn escaped her and she blinked lazily at her clock. Seeing the big hand past the eleven and the small hand creeping past twelve, she decided that she had done enough thinking. She shouldn't even be bothering with worrying about Saotome Ranma. It wasn't like their parents could force them to get married. Now it just became a matter of convincing the adults of this.
Before slipping off into sleep she made a mental note to punch Ranma for causing her such mental distress. That would teach him to be a jerk.
* * *
Cold…She needed heat, warmth, fire. A violent shivering consumed her slight body and goose bumps rose across her exposed flesh. She opened dazed sorrel eyes to find a pale marble face smiling down at her with religious serenity and her nude body draped across the idol's arms. Something thick and crimson began to well up from the statues glazed eyes. The girl watched in mute horror as the liquid dripped down the flawless cheeks like bloody tears. With dawning terror she realized that those were bloody tears. The statue was crying blood.
She cried out and struggled to escape the obscene idol's arms, yet she couldn't find the strength to move body. Panting and whimpering, she managed to roll over onto her side and away from the morbid visage of the crying statue…only to confront a more terrifying sight.
A seething mass of creatures crawled back and forth below her, but what truly brought the bile to her throat was the inescapable fact that they had once been human. Flesh, like dirty parchment, stretched tightly across their bones, pushing tendons into sharp relief. Ragged lacerations covered their bodies and, as she watched, several began to rip at their own flesh.
A gentle murmuring drifted up to her unwilling ears. They were weeping, yet no tears coursed down their sunken cheeks. The statue…the statue cried their tears…in blood.
"My wings…My wings…Gone…Not here…" As one the creatures turned their sightless white eyes upon the quivering girl and crawled towards her. They reached clawed hands out to her in piteous supplication, shriveled tongues lolling about their cavernous mouths. She screamed when one of them brushed against her leg.
"D-don't touch me!"
"You…Your wings shine…Give us…Please? Please!" Several grabbed a hold of her, brittle nails digging into her unprotected flesh.
"No!"
"He'll take them…Can't fly…"
"I said no!"
* * *
"'No' what?" A piercing shriek rent the night, followed swiftly by the sound of flesh against flesh. Ranma walked out of Akane's room rubbing his cheek.
"Last time I check on you when you start screaming during the night."
"Get out of here!"
* * *
Through the perpetual night the creature crept, white eyes rolling about in their sockets set deep in murky hollows of its brittle face. Deep furrows, gouged by yellowed nails, crisscrossed sunken cheeks and sack-like breasts. The darkness and blindness were its only comforts for it didn't have to view its own decayed and fractured appearance. A stray thought informed it that at one time it had been called beautiful, but now it could no longer understand the concept of beauty.
"Fly! My wings…He took them…Give them back. Please!"
Alone, it continued, having nothing else to do. Yet something stirred within its dead body. Again it paused, head tilted up and a sliver of intelligence lighting its milky eyes.
Another, he had found another! Perhaps now the torment, the ceaseless tedium, would end. A rasping whimper of dead hope passed shriveled lips and the creature crawled on.
Misery would find the destruction he sought for. The god would die and release his immortal hold upon them. They would all fly again!
* * *
The dark haired boy had no warning, save the angry screaming of his name, before a fist crashed into head. A strangled cry of pain jumped from his mouth and he fell over. Blinking past the silver specks across his vision, Saotome Ranma rolled over to find an angry Akane standing over him. Nothing new there.
"What the hell was that for?" The girl turned up her nose and stalked off. Apparently it was up to him to discover the reason for her latest fit of pique. "Macho, unsexy tomboy."
"I heard that!" Several miscellaneous objects followed that outcry, all of which he managed to dodge. He rolled his eyes and jumped to his feet. Girls, there was no use in trying to understand them. A guy would only go mad in trying.
"What did you do this time, Ranma?" Tendo Nabiki asked walking past him towards breakfast.
"I don't know. I didn't do anything." The middle Tendo sister arched one plucked eyebrow. "Honestly, I haven't done anything." The girl shrugged and walked away. "I think."
* * *
Pulling a magazine from the recesses of a large purse, the young mother sat down upon a bench with one hand gripping the handle of a stroller. The woman licked her finger before turning each page and mumbled the words of the articles under her breath. After several minutes of quiet reading, the baby began to fuss. The woman clicked her tongue and carefully lifted the squirming infant from the contraption of cloth and metal. She sang softly and rocked the child into sleepy silence.
"You have a beautiful baby." The young mother glanced up and found a young man sitting beside her. Between elegant, caramel-colored fingers he rolled a green glass bead hanging from a leather thong. The woman bestowed a contented smile upon the youth and stroked the sleeping child's cheek.
"Thank you very much. Her name is Misa," she said proudly. The boy grinned dreamily at the child.
"That's a beautiful name as well. You must be very happy."
"Very. She's the light of my husband and my life." The woman chuckled and hugged her daughter close. The boy nodded thoughtfully, sadness beginning to cloud his vibrant green eyes.
"Very happy…" The boy's fingers moved faster around the glass bead and the woman found her gaze riveted to it. "Such innocence…"
The woman blinked and found herself sitting alone, the boy walking down the street. She watched him in consternation, puzzled over the lost seconds of time, and then turned back to her child.
"Misa?" She touched the baby's abnormally pale cheeks, finding them cool to the touch. "Misa! Gods!" Screaming for help, she clutched her still child to her chest.
* * *
Here's the revised chapter. I hope this one is more acceptable. So again, please review and if you absolutely must flame me or die, then send all flames to SylverSylph@aol.com. I will be happy to read them and respond.