DIE ANOTHER DAY
There are artifacts from ancient times that have spirits inside them. No, they're not haunted or any sort of that rot. Those spirits were sealed in there purposefully. For what, only Allah knows. They have survived throughout the millenias. They come from various civilizations. Not everyone who possesses these items awakens/ releases the spirit residing within. No, you have to have a special mark. The mark of a hikari, or a light. These spirits are yamis, or darks. Some may be kinder than others, but they are all still the dark side of the person's soul.
Yamis and hikaris are two parts of one whole. Kind of like the yin and yang thing. Since it takes two halves to equal one whole, one yami is usually paired with one hikari. After death, the soul is reincarnated and yami and hikari unite again, although both may not realize it. But there is a bond between them, a bond that is unbreakable. For some reason He only knows, God has seen fit to make it that way.
Yamis and hikaris are closely linked. Yamis reside within their artifacts, can communicate telepathically with their hikaris, and even switch places with them. Usually, they're of the same gender. Usually. In my case, however, if my yami ever got the chance to gain control of my body, I'd sprout breasts.
Yes, that's right. I'm a male hikari, and my yami is female. If there are any gender differences, it is usually a female hikari with a male yami. But no, I just happen to be a freak among freaks.
Before I go any further, I should probably tell you about myself and my yami. I am a Muslim boy. I grew up in the heart of the Middle East. I am very quiet; I love to read books, usually adventure, historical, classics, or romance. I obey the will of Allah. I was always a good kid, if a bit laid back. I have always been very careful to follow the regimen of my religion. It is, after all, Allah's will. My parents died recently, leaving me alone. I had to come to America of all places to live with my uncle. He's never around much; he's a work-aholic, and when he is home, he's busy in his 'study'. Whatever. I've always been easily self amused. Actually, I've always preferred to be alone than crowded by people. Freaky, I know.
But now, after my uncle just had to give me that darned Celtic necklace from some stupid trip he took to some ancient Irish ruins, I've never been alone. Oh, I should tell you that I'm a history buff. That's why, when I first came to live with my uncle, and the bachelor had already booked and paid for the trip, feeling guilty, he'd given me the ancient, heavy ornament, which he'd found under some stones. That necklace just happened to contain my yami. Lucky, lucky me.
Sometimes, I truly think that Allah is punishing me. You'll understand after I tell you about my yami. She's one warped spirit. I am a modest boy, and I like modest girls. You know the type; a pure, quiet and reserved girl. My yami is a nymphomaniac, loud, boisterous, moody, irritable, violent, unpredictable, and just plain CRAZY. During the holy month of Ramadan, when us Muslims are supposed to abstain from food from dawn to dusk, my yami never tires of taunting me with food and drink. She knows just how to push me. In America, just because you're a Muslim and you're fasting, doesn't mean the rest of the world is. At school, others eat while I don't. I just sit quietly in the cafeteria reading a book until lunch is over. But will yami let me read in peace? No. She'll tease and taunt me. Her most recent Ramadan stunt was to throw food at me. Yes, she chased me all over the house, pelting me with grapes. Luckily, she's never forced food down my throat. But I've come close to weakening so many times.
She has no modesty. She loves short- and I mean SHORT, even by American standards- skirts and shorts. She pairs short skirts with fishnet stockings, a thong, and high heeled boots. And her tops. Don't get me started on that. The only thing I have to say is she makes Britney Spears look like a modest, veiled virgin. And, oh, she does taunt me. I am not interested in sex; I believe a male and female should love each other for who they are on the inside, not just physical lust. But the body has a mind of it's own; she's gotten purposefully close to me, making me.......I will not say anything other than she's never taken my virginity. But my first kiss.....yes. I'll tell you that another day.
She's a sex fiend. I know; she's not just a tease in slutty clothes. There's been so many nights when I've lain in bed, alone, only to feel her return to me. She often had bruises and dried blood on her, and she reeked of sex. I've seen her, once, with one of her favorite partners. He's a very nasty yami; I don't know his name, except to say he's from ancient Egypt, is very powerful, and has a mean streak a mile wide. He's much worse that her. Another one she's attracted to, and has had sex with- I know, I've seen her with this one, too- is another Egyptian. The first one, I've heard her call him tomb robber. The second one was a pharaoh. And those two had obviously crossed paths before- they hate each other. But the tomb robber fears the pharaoh. One thing I must say about him; although he's a dark, he's not as evil and masochistic/ sadistic as some of the others. Oh, I would never want to end up on his bad side, but he wasn't as corrupted as some of the others. One thing I find amusing is an ancient Celt having sex with an ancient Egyptian. Go figure. She's had more lovers, but I haven't seen any of them. And I thank Allah for that every night.
Even though my yami and I are two halves of one whole, we're as different as night and day. I love soft, gentle music. She loves angry, aggressive music. I wear modest clothing, sometimes black, but I often favor lighter, neutral shades. She liked dark, skimpy clothing, in the gothic style. I like girls with no make up; she loads piles of "black shit" onto her face; well, the colors are always dark, anyways. I am a devout believer. She has no clue what praying even is. I don't swear. She has a mouth filthier than a country gas station toilet. I try to get along with others, and not to rock the boat too much; she delights in purposefully pissing people off.
We do have one thing in common; our love of martial arts. I like it as a way of meditation, training and disciplining the body. She just loves to fight. I prefer empty handed techniques; she loves anything sharp and pointy. From kitchen knives to samurai swords, if it has a blade, she knows how to use it. There have been so many competitions I've competed in that she's struggled to gain control of my body, to fight, to win. One thing with all yamis; they can be utterly ruthless in their conquests. My yami loves to battle. She's not so much attracted to games as she is to a fight. Even in bed, it's a struggle for dominance with her. Not that I'd know, though.
You're probably curious as to if my yami has a name. She's never told me, and I've never bothered to ask. The only time I had resulted in a slap to the face, and the answer that she'd had so many names, been so many things, that she was named nothing at all. She had a current name, but it was just one of her many dark, sordid secrets. Secrets that I never wanted to find out. Secrets, that, as her hikari, I was destined to find out.
There are artifacts from ancient times that have spirits inside them. No, they're not haunted or any sort of that rot. Those spirits were sealed in there purposefully. For what, only Allah knows. They have survived throughout the millenias. They come from various civilizations. Not everyone who possesses these items awakens/ releases the spirit residing within. No, you have to have a special mark. The mark of a hikari, or a light. These spirits are yamis, or darks. Some may be kinder than others, but they are all still the dark side of the person's soul.
Yamis and hikaris are two parts of one whole. Kind of like the yin and yang thing. Since it takes two halves to equal one whole, one yami is usually paired with one hikari. After death, the soul is reincarnated and yami and hikari unite again, although both may not realize it. But there is a bond between them, a bond that is unbreakable. For some reason He only knows, God has seen fit to make it that way.
Yamis and hikaris are closely linked. Yamis reside within their artifacts, can communicate telepathically with their hikaris, and even switch places with them. Usually, they're of the same gender. Usually. In my case, however, if my yami ever got the chance to gain control of my body, I'd sprout breasts.
Yes, that's right. I'm a male hikari, and my yami is female. If there are any gender differences, it is usually a female hikari with a male yami. But no, I just happen to be a freak among freaks.
Before I go any further, I should probably tell you about myself and my yami. I am a Muslim boy. I grew up in the heart of the Middle East. I am very quiet; I love to read books, usually adventure, historical, classics, or romance. I obey the will of Allah. I was always a good kid, if a bit laid back. I have always been very careful to follow the regimen of my religion. It is, after all, Allah's will. My parents died recently, leaving me alone. I had to come to America of all places to live with my uncle. He's never around much; he's a work-aholic, and when he is home, he's busy in his 'study'. Whatever. I've always been easily self amused. Actually, I've always preferred to be alone than crowded by people. Freaky, I know.
But now, after my uncle just had to give me that darned Celtic necklace from some stupid trip he took to some ancient Irish ruins, I've never been alone. Oh, I should tell you that I'm a history buff. That's why, when I first came to live with my uncle, and the bachelor had already booked and paid for the trip, feeling guilty, he'd given me the ancient, heavy ornament, which he'd found under some stones. That necklace just happened to contain my yami. Lucky, lucky me.
Sometimes, I truly think that Allah is punishing me. You'll understand after I tell you about my yami. She's one warped spirit. I am a modest boy, and I like modest girls. You know the type; a pure, quiet and reserved girl. My yami is a nymphomaniac, loud, boisterous, moody, irritable, violent, unpredictable, and just plain CRAZY. During the holy month of Ramadan, when us Muslims are supposed to abstain from food from dawn to dusk, my yami never tires of taunting me with food and drink. She knows just how to push me. In America, just because you're a Muslim and you're fasting, doesn't mean the rest of the world is. At school, others eat while I don't. I just sit quietly in the cafeteria reading a book until lunch is over. But will yami let me read in peace? No. She'll tease and taunt me. Her most recent Ramadan stunt was to throw food at me. Yes, she chased me all over the house, pelting me with grapes. Luckily, she's never forced food down my throat. But I've come close to weakening so many times.
She has no modesty. She loves short- and I mean SHORT, even by American standards- skirts and shorts. She pairs short skirts with fishnet stockings, a thong, and high heeled boots. And her tops. Don't get me started on that. The only thing I have to say is she makes Britney Spears look like a modest, veiled virgin. And, oh, she does taunt me. I am not interested in sex; I believe a male and female should love each other for who they are on the inside, not just physical lust. But the body has a mind of it's own; she's gotten purposefully close to me, making me.......I will not say anything other than she's never taken my virginity. But my first kiss.....yes. I'll tell you that another day.
She's a sex fiend. I know; she's not just a tease in slutty clothes. There's been so many nights when I've lain in bed, alone, only to feel her return to me. She often had bruises and dried blood on her, and she reeked of sex. I've seen her, once, with one of her favorite partners. He's a very nasty yami; I don't know his name, except to say he's from ancient Egypt, is very powerful, and has a mean streak a mile wide. He's much worse that her. Another one she's attracted to, and has had sex with- I know, I've seen her with this one, too- is another Egyptian. The first one, I've heard her call him tomb robber. The second one was a pharaoh. And those two had obviously crossed paths before- they hate each other. But the tomb robber fears the pharaoh. One thing I must say about him; although he's a dark, he's not as evil and masochistic/ sadistic as some of the others. Oh, I would never want to end up on his bad side, but he wasn't as corrupted as some of the others. One thing I find amusing is an ancient Celt having sex with an ancient Egyptian. Go figure. She's had more lovers, but I haven't seen any of them. And I thank Allah for that every night.
Even though my yami and I are two halves of one whole, we're as different as night and day. I love soft, gentle music. She loves angry, aggressive music. I wear modest clothing, sometimes black, but I often favor lighter, neutral shades. She liked dark, skimpy clothing, in the gothic style. I like girls with no make up; she loads piles of "black shit" onto her face; well, the colors are always dark, anyways. I am a devout believer. She has no clue what praying even is. I don't swear. She has a mouth filthier than a country gas station toilet. I try to get along with others, and not to rock the boat too much; she delights in purposefully pissing people off.
We do have one thing in common; our love of martial arts. I like it as a way of meditation, training and disciplining the body. She just loves to fight. I prefer empty handed techniques; she loves anything sharp and pointy. From kitchen knives to samurai swords, if it has a blade, she knows how to use it. There have been so many competitions I've competed in that she's struggled to gain control of my body, to fight, to win. One thing with all yamis; they can be utterly ruthless in their conquests. My yami loves to battle. She's not so much attracted to games as she is to a fight. Even in bed, it's a struggle for dominance with her. Not that I'd know, though.
You're probably curious as to if my yami has a name. She's never told me, and I've never bothered to ask. The only time I had resulted in a slap to the face, and the answer that she'd had so many names, been so many things, that she was named nothing at all. She had a current name, but it was just one of her many dark, sordid secrets. Secrets that I never wanted to find out. Secrets, that, as her hikari, I was destined to find out.