Ore-Sama
By: Neko-chan
A/N: Chapter inspired somewhat by rayemars' review of chapter one. Thanks, rayemars!
Chapter Summary: What happens when the Nightmare gets nightmares?
WARNING: ... We've been over this before. -.-;;
DISCLAIMER: *hisses* _
IV.
I'm dreaming, but I don't know if I'm dreaming or consumed in a nightmare or if I just _am._ This is the dream that I dream, alone and hissing and full of hatred. It is night, but it isn't night, it's something darker and more sinister and even ORE-SAMA is afraid because this isn't the full dark of darkness. It's empty and not-darkness.
Dark and suffocating and smothering until I can't breathe or cry or wail or scream and just sob and sob and sob and sob. Darker than darkness--something that I can't control or love or want or need or love love love love love love. Love with passion and all-consuming desire and need. Not love-love, but passion-love, darker and more potent and heady than anything previously tasted and wanted and experienced.
Ebony, but not-ebony.
Harshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
Cold cutting empty lonely wanting needing un-feeling HATING LOVING HATING HATING HATING HATING landscape filled only with skeletons and dead trees, stripped of life and vibrancy and FEELING. Stripped of blood and inner-darkness. Stripped of me.
Don't know where I am, or who I am, or what I am because THERE IS NO ME. No ore-sama? Ore-sama? How can that be or exist? Do I exist? What am I? Something cruel and sadistic and unfeeling and lover-of-darkness and lover of pain and hatred and insanity--because I am something darker than anything previously created or wanted or needed. _This is me._
But I don't exist in this world, something darker-than-darkness. Something twirling and all-consuming and something in which you lose all sense of self and time and reality. Something that is a part of me, something that comes at night while I sleep, dreaming dreams of blood and gore and death. And, as always, darkness. So sweet and encompassing and rich rich rich with heady intoxication. But not-good-dreams come and I don't know what is real and what isn't. Dreams of distortion and corruption and rotting flesh and earth and sky and light--light, light, light. All around me and glaring in intensity and harshness.
Screaming at the sky, but no one hears because I'm all alone--all alone all alone forever and ever and ever and ever and ever. Just me. Ore-sama. Ore-sama? Me? WHO AM I?
I AM GOD.
But God dreams sweet dreams--ones full of happiness and darkness and crimson seas, overflowing with coppery liquid and echoes of screaming--screams of pain and despair and hatred. GOD does not dream dreams of not-knowing. GOD does not dream dreams of not-BEING. WHO AM I? I AM GOD. I MUST BE GOD. I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM. I am ORE-SAMA.
Falling into abyss and never ever falling and landing and dying because you can't die because you'll never land, so all you can do is just fall and fall and fall and fall and fall and fall for all of eternity until the bad-darkness consumes you and makes you not-be. YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHO ARE YOU?
ARE YOU LOVED? ARE YOU WANTED? ARE YOU NEEDED AND DESIRED AND KNOWN AND _BEING_? Do you exist? Can't answer that because you DON'T KNOW. You're just a wanderer, a parasite who's NOT loved, who's NOT needed, who just goes from host to host, sucking the life and the energy out of every person you touch. And you still go on and on and on because you don't care and all--ALL--you ever wanted was to KNOW who you really are.
But the abyss swallowed you up too soon.
The abyss is everything bad, but bad-bad. Bad-bad! Stinging and hurting and sucking the life and the will and the energy out of you until all you can do is blink stupidly like hikari-pretty and Yuugi-pretty and Pharaoh-pretty and all the other pretties and go, "NO!" But 'no' is too late because you're already gone. You're already dead. Dead dead dead. Rotted away, unloved and uncared for. No one to mourn or cry or grieve.
You're. All. Alone.
I cry.
I cry because I'm all alone and I dream these dreams that God is not SUPPOSED to dream and grieve and cry for you who have fallen into the bad-bad. The abyss. Not the good-abyss, but the bad-bad-bad-abyss. Good-abyss is full of welcoming night and blood and death. Bad-abyss is filled with nothing. It's... Oblivion.
Nothing and nothing and nothing--empty and void and never-ending for all of eternity and all of forever without end and without break or love or kindness or desire. FIRE! Fire to light the flame in which the darkness overtakes... But no darkness or fire in this not-being. How can something exist if it never was?
So I cry bloody and salty tears and mourn for you-who-never-was.
And then I join you-who-never-was because the bad-abyss swallows me whole once again until ORE-SAMA is left gasping and crying and screaming until there isn't any air left in ORE-SAMA's lungs. And ORE-SAMA can't take in any more air because there isn't any air and so I'm left all alone... Suffocating. To drift and wander and cry and sob and wail and mourn and mourn and mourn and mourn and wish for the comforting darkness to hide in. Falling into Insanity. Falling into me. In the end, I AM Oblivion.
This is Ore-Sama's nightmare.
