A.N: Hello. This is I, the author. This fic is a nice example of what
happens when someone who wanted fluff gets angst one times to many, and
totally flips out. No, this is NOT a fun happy fluffy little fic. This is
a fic that will leave you ranting, crying, and cursing me... that is...
if I have written it right. This was written over the course of months.
(Which was actually little vengeful rants that I have just now pieced
together to form this big pile of angst. Then again... this IS a Nny
fic... what else were you expecting?) I do hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: IT'S NOT MINE! I OWN NOTHING! I DON'T EVEN OWN THIS BAD HAIR CUT! MOM PAID FOR IT! ALL I OWN IS... Well... This story and my precious dime collection. BACK OFF! IT'S MINE!
This is the first chapter, entitled, "It's my world after all..." It's written in a strange format, and I hope it doesn't confuse you. But trust me, it's basically a set up for the whole story, so read it and know that the story will get a lot better from here. Oh, and please, check out my friend, Soldier of Darkness. She drew a pic to go with the fic. It's good. GO LOOK AT IT! (Also thanks go out to her for helping me name this fic at the price of her beloved glasses. May her vision only temporarily be impaired.) And here it is... .................................................................... Ch. 1: It's my world after all... ----
He slowly walked home, every now and then glancing up at the sky. The dark gray sky. The thought crossed his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder if he could remember the sun ever being up there. It just didn't seem like it ever had with the way it looked now. He smiled to himself slightly and shook his head to rid it of these thoughts.
He slowly opened the door. As the condition of the place came into view, he wondered when it had actually started looking like this. Had it ever looked nice? Was it always like this? Had there always been those bloodstains? The smell? The dark corners with the spider webs?
He slowly and carefully stepped into his world. For what else could it be but his world? He looked around, waiting for the familiarity to kick in. For the place to suddenly scream out, "WELCOME HOME!" But he was greeted with silence. He shifted his weight, and the floor moaned under his feet. The sound seemed foreign.
Was this even his home? His place? He sighs as he finally accepts that it is. It's his world. Not by choice... No. How could it be by choice? Had he wanted this world? When had he asked for it? He didn't recall ever sitting in Santa's lap and saying that he wanted this. But it was his. His... and his alone. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that when he opened them again, it would be better.
He suddenly had the image of another place. A whiter place. A cleaner place. A place that called out, "Welcome home." Where the windows weren't cracked and broken, and halfway covered up. Where the door didn't slam behind him with a hollow sound. Where the floor didn't mock him with its bloodstains.
He suddenly spun around the room, taking it all in at once. His hand found one of his many sharp daggers and suddenly he found it sticking out of the wall. He smirked slightly to himself, wondering if the place could feel pain. His smirk died away and he slowly turned and leaned against the very wall he had just attacked.
He pressed his back up to it and could feel the coldness of its surface. His gaze fell to the floor, seeming to be looking through it, and into another world.
*SWITCH SCEEN TO A PLACE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN!*
She walked home, not bothering to look around at all the people around her. She wished them all gone anyway. They were often in her way, and pushy. She just wanted to go home and close the door behind her. She glanced up at the sky. She found the grayness of it slightly calming, yet annoying. Where was the sun? Does it even belong up there? It should... she thought to herself.
She shook her head and continued on her way home. She fought with the keys for a moment, then opened the door. Once inside she let it slam behind her. That was it. Just a slam. It didn't echo, or resonate. It was just a sharp noise that was cut off suddenly. She stood there and slowly looked around.
She looked around at the organization. Sure, it had its occasional mess where she had gotten in a hurry, or just gotten lazy. But it was so white. She waited for the sense of home to hit her. But it never came. It was all just so unwelcoming. Like she didn't own it. Like she was a tress passer. How long had she lived here? Was it not long enough for the place to start welcoming her home?
She knew it sounded crazy, but she also knew that when you came home, you were supposed to feel like you were home. Was this what she had dreamed off when she was little? Had she seen this back then when she thought of home? Had she pointed at this while walking by the store window and suddenly shout out, "Oh! OH! I want that!"? Yet this was hers. It was all hers. Her own world.
She shifted to the other foot, waiting to hear the telltale sounds of something that told her that this was a mistake. That she was just in the wrong place. But she heard nothing. This was hers. This neat mess of a world.
She closed her eyes in hopes that when she opened them she could feel at home. She suddenly had the image of another place. A less cleaner place. A place that said, "Home" to her. Where her stuff didn't look like it was ready to leave at any moment. Where the windows weren't clear to the outside world. Where the door could slam with force and tell everyone how she was feeling.
She suddenly turned around the room, taking it all in at once. She drew back her arm and found the sharp keys still in her hand. The next thing she knew they were crashing into the wall with enough force to slightly dent it. She wondered if this would some how make it home and smiled. But her smile instantly died away and she walked up to the wall, placing her hand on the dent. Cold. It wasn't home.
She turned slowly and leaned against the offended wall. Her back felt the cold and cringed slightly. Her gaze found it's way to the ceiling, looking through it, looking for another world.
AN: If someone can draw a really good pic of this, please do. Thanks. Yes, that's a challenge.
Disclaimer: IT'S NOT MINE! I OWN NOTHING! I DON'T EVEN OWN THIS BAD HAIR CUT! MOM PAID FOR IT! ALL I OWN IS... Well... This story and my precious dime collection. BACK OFF! IT'S MINE!
This is the first chapter, entitled, "It's my world after all..." It's written in a strange format, and I hope it doesn't confuse you. But trust me, it's basically a set up for the whole story, so read it and know that the story will get a lot better from here. Oh, and please, check out my friend, Soldier of Darkness. She drew a pic to go with the fic. It's good. GO LOOK AT IT! (Also thanks go out to her for helping me name this fic at the price of her beloved glasses. May her vision only temporarily be impaired.) And here it is... .................................................................... Ch. 1: It's my world after all... ----
He slowly walked home, every now and then glancing up at the sky. The dark gray sky. The thought crossed his mind, and he couldn't help but wonder if he could remember the sun ever being up there. It just didn't seem like it ever had with the way it looked now. He smiled to himself slightly and shook his head to rid it of these thoughts.
He slowly opened the door. As the condition of the place came into view, he wondered when it had actually started looking like this. Had it ever looked nice? Was it always like this? Had there always been those bloodstains? The smell? The dark corners with the spider webs?
He slowly and carefully stepped into his world. For what else could it be but his world? He looked around, waiting for the familiarity to kick in. For the place to suddenly scream out, "WELCOME HOME!" But he was greeted with silence. He shifted his weight, and the floor moaned under his feet. The sound seemed foreign.
Was this even his home? His place? He sighs as he finally accepts that it is. It's his world. Not by choice... No. How could it be by choice? Had he wanted this world? When had he asked for it? He didn't recall ever sitting in Santa's lap and saying that he wanted this. But it was his. His... and his alone. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that when he opened them again, it would be better.
He suddenly had the image of another place. A whiter place. A cleaner place. A place that called out, "Welcome home." Where the windows weren't cracked and broken, and halfway covered up. Where the door didn't slam behind him with a hollow sound. Where the floor didn't mock him with its bloodstains.
He suddenly spun around the room, taking it all in at once. His hand found one of his many sharp daggers and suddenly he found it sticking out of the wall. He smirked slightly to himself, wondering if the place could feel pain. His smirk died away and he slowly turned and leaned against the very wall he had just attacked.
He pressed his back up to it and could feel the coldness of its surface. His gaze fell to the floor, seeming to be looking through it, and into another world.
*SWITCH SCEEN TO A PLACE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN!*
She walked home, not bothering to look around at all the people around her. She wished them all gone anyway. They were often in her way, and pushy. She just wanted to go home and close the door behind her. She glanced up at the sky. She found the grayness of it slightly calming, yet annoying. Where was the sun? Does it even belong up there? It should... she thought to herself.
She shook her head and continued on her way home. She fought with the keys for a moment, then opened the door. Once inside she let it slam behind her. That was it. Just a slam. It didn't echo, or resonate. It was just a sharp noise that was cut off suddenly. She stood there and slowly looked around.
She looked around at the organization. Sure, it had its occasional mess where she had gotten in a hurry, or just gotten lazy. But it was so white. She waited for the sense of home to hit her. But it never came. It was all just so unwelcoming. Like she didn't own it. Like she was a tress passer. How long had she lived here? Was it not long enough for the place to start welcoming her home?
She knew it sounded crazy, but she also knew that when you came home, you were supposed to feel like you were home. Was this what she had dreamed off when she was little? Had she seen this back then when she thought of home? Had she pointed at this while walking by the store window and suddenly shout out, "Oh! OH! I want that!"? Yet this was hers. It was all hers. Her own world.
She shifted to the other foot, waiting to hear the telltale sounds of something that told her that this was a mistake. That she was just in the wrong place. But she heard nothing. This was hers. This neat mess of a world.
She closed her eyes in hopes that when she opened them she could feel at home. She suddenly had the image of another place. A less cleaner place. A place that said, "Home" to her. Where her stuff didn't look like it was ready to leave at any moment. Where the windows weren't clear to the outside world. Where the door could slam with force and tell everyone how she was feeling.
She suddenly turned around the room, taking it all in at once. She drew back her arm and found the sharp keys still in her hand. The next thing she knew they were crashing into the wall with enough force to slightly dent it. She wondered if this would some how make it home and smiled. But her smile instantly died away and she walked up to the wall, placing her hand on the dent. Cold. It wasn't home.
She turned slowly and leaned against the offended wall. Her back felt the cold and cringed slightly. Her gaze found it's way to the ceiling, looking through it, looking for another world.
AN: If someone can draw a really good pic of this, please do. Thanks. Yes, that's a challenge.