A/N: well here is the next chapter. Sorry for the wait, but I've been changing from Lord of the Nightmare Soldiers to this fic, so it might take a while for me to get these chapters out.
Akino Ame, yes I did get a lot of inspiration from whatever it was that they showed Matt drowning in.
WildfireFriendship, sorry I didn't mean to sound greedy or anything. I just didn't want to put any focus on this if no one found any interest in it, because that wouldn't be fare to the people reading Lord of the Nightmare Soldiers. But you are right, I did sound way too demanding, and I greatly apologize.
And yes Betty I like to torture Matt, but I only do it out of love. Also congratulations on joining FFN, I will be expecting some great stories from you. (No pressure or intimidation was meant by that remark)
Oh and thank you to everyone who reviewed: Sakura kura, Quantum Weather Butterfly (I like that pen name, tis' cool), Penny, and Ella J. W. Your reviews were all very much appreciated.
I hope I didn't get any names incorrect, I'm doing this by memory (and not a very good memory mind you)
Well enough of my… please read, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon, nor do I own this computer I'm using, but they say it will be mine with seventy-two easy payments of 19.95.
Prisoner of the Night
Part two: The Air is as Dark and Cold as Night
Maybe this world is a barren place
For a soul prone to get lost,
But heaven still hounds from
The smallest sounds
To the cries of the storm-tossed
The inky water held onto its victim, smothering him painfully in its black depts. The liquid of this great ocean was as thick as blood, it sunk into the victim's pours clogging them with residue and blocking out all oxygen. The victim kicked and struggled, desperately trying to find his way to the surface, but the murky brine continued to hold him tightly, and strong currents forced him further down, causing all efforts for escape to end in vain.
Matt's body ached; it took all the strength he had to force his tiered limbs to fight against exhaustion and pain. He closed his mouth, tightly locking his jaw, as he continued to kick and paddle. His arms went up reaching for the end of water and the beginning of air. The salt in the water burned his flesh like acid. It ate at his epidermis and fought to get to his eyes, but Matt had his eyelids shut hermetically protecting his sight from the poisonous fluid trying to make its way in. He tried not to gag and choke as some of the salty diluent slipped into his mouth, burning his tongue just as it had the rest of his flesh.
He wasn't sure how long he had been engulfed in the fluid; he wasn't sure how long the black salty water had been eating away at his skin, nor was he sure how long he had been fighting futilely against the heavy currents. But he was certain of one thing, if he didn't get air soon he would die.
The water was so thick that when it filled his nostrils it infected his sinuous cavity, causing it to ache and the pressure in his head to grow. His lungs began to cramp as his fighting body burned all the oxygen left in his veins, feeding it to his muscles, and leaving him with no air to fuel his life. Matt could feel his lungs begin to burn and his muscles ache and weaken. Now all that was left to aid in his struggle for survival was adrenaline. The natural instinct to fight triggered, and soon his body was functioning with strength the pre-teen didn't know he possessed. His hands plunged through the viscous brine as his legs kicked back and forth.
He struggled not knowing if his fighting was getting him any closer to his goal, but still he continued to fight. He didn't dare open his eyes; the polluted water would only eat away at the cerulean orbs, as it was eating away at his fair flesh. All he could do was continue to kick against the bleak water, hoping that his strained muscles would not give out before he broke the surface of the impermeable film.
His lungs were now burning, feeling like they would soon collapse; and cramps tightened his sore limbs making every movement lancinating. Hope seemed to fade with every failed attempt to reach the periphery. And now the tormented pre-teen was beginning to give in to the cloud of hopelessness that filled his mind.
Death was inevitable, completely inescapable, and yet he had never envisioned himself dyeing so long. The dejected boy never saw much of a future for himself, nor did he believe he'd amount to much; but he still never pictured it all ending before he even had a chance to prove his own credence wrong. Now he was still fighting, but he wasn't sure why.
Isn't this what I wanted. Isn't this what I deserve. I don't deserve to live; therefore death is the only remaining path. And that's what I deserve, to die here alone, in this dark cold water. Who knows, maybe this ocean could wash away some of the filth that has collected on my life, and leave my floundering soul and body cleaner. Maybe the pain I'm feeling now is punishment for my selfish ways, and once its over I will be pure. Or maybe it will continue to eat away at me, until I can no longer hide under the image of a rebellious teen, and all the world will see how truly black I am. Either way it doesn't matter, this is where I am meant to be, this is where I deserve to be.
One hand broke through the thin line of film accumulating at the surface of the ocean. The pollution in the water only seemed to get stronger on the surface. The acid like brine mingled with the toxic air becoming a thick poison on the waves.
Matt was surprised and bewildered at how he could have fought all this time, and only at the moment when he had accepted his fate, did the aquatic prison released its hold. If he had more time to consider this, his skeptical mind would come up with the theory that the ocean itself had wanted it this way. That it had held him tightly, shackling him to its frigid depths, until his will to go on had been shattered by constant defeat. Now the boy was broken, and the will to continue was barely present. His spirit had been weakened making him the perfect instrument to fuel the very darkness that now ate away at his soul.
Matt tore at the film on the water until at last he was able to reach the surface. He came up, still kicking and fighting against the invisible weights, chained to his failing body, and breathed in deeply. One long breath was taken; filling his lungs with the fumed invested oxygen, and fueling his body with some energy. Matt was relieved, he took in another couple of quick breaths, and soon grew excited by his victory over the currents; only to have a large wave of black water come crashing down on him sending him back under the murky liquid.
The force of the wave hit Matt with a heavy blow knocking his wind out, and holding him under the water with great force.
Matt shut his eyes tightly against the pain and the brine. His chest now ached and he, out of instinct, opened his mouth to breathe. The inky black water filled his mouth, it tasted like pure salt, and it burned at the small cuts in his mouth caused from him biting down on his check. The acidic fluid made its way down his throat, burning the lining in his wind pipe, and filled his lungs. From his lungs it entered his bloodstream invading his body like a cancer, eating away at him. The liquid continued its rampage through the boy's body, and soon the combined attack from the water outside and the poison inside caused Matt to lose conciseness.
Am I dead? Can the dead be in so much pain that they wish they were dead? Does that even make any sense? I never really thought about death much, but this isn't exactly what I had expected. And it's so cold, and dark. Isn't that simply another way of saying deceased, cold and dark. Maybe this is like the middle stage; maybe I'm somewhere between life and death. Or maybe… maybe I was never alive to begin with. I don't know, and it doesn't really matter… all that matters now is that I am cold, and it's very dark.
The sound of waves washing up on moist sand, slowly reaching for land untouched by its chilled hand, mingled with the howling wind to create a melody of nature's drums and pipes. The cinereous clouds inched slowly across the sky, never once creating an opening where light might brake through, warming and illuminating the dreary world. The air was dense, polluted by adumbration, inclement, and the ever-present feelings of despair and fear.
The world was a wasteland. A desolate landfill created from every impure, vile, or hopeless thought that passed through its captives. It would lore the unsuspecting victim into a trap, created by the impurity within the creature of free will's soul, and then drain the soul taking both the good and the bad, using what should be a gift to destroy life. The world was contaminated with negative feelings, and now a new victim had been found.
A boy, young innocent, but potent with life, and a strength that could feed the darkness for an eternity. A child with an inner power that could easily destroy the darkness, if the soul was aware of its strength. But ignorance is a weakness, and this prize knew nothing of his significance. He found no value in his own life. It is easy to disregard one's own life when there was never another to tell you that you did belong.
My head hurts; so does the rest of my body. That ocean… the water was like… when my family split up, or like when TK told me he didn't need me anymore. TK…
I wish I could have been a better brother for you. I wish I could have been what you wanted. But you're better off where you are, and I was better off in that ocean. I was better off feeling my punishment in full and unmerciful blows. I don't know why I even fought to get out… it would have been better if I had drowned. After all isn't that what I have been doing all this time. When our parents first staring arguing the water rose with the confusion.
How can a child possibly grasp the concept that their parents, the two people they care for most in the world, hated each other?
They didn't have to fight! They could have worked it out! But they were too selfish. And that's when I began to drown. I've been sinking ever since. I should have just stayed in the ocean. Why did it have to through me out! Am I too worthless to bother with drowning? Was that stupid water too good to have my decaying body in it? Or do I just not deserve the peace of dying the way I've lived… alone and in the dark.
The wind continued to blow, the icy chill stroked over the lying boy, caressing his raw skin and matted hair. The breeze played with the defeated pre-teen, tossing his golden but knotted hair in his face, and flowing smoothly over his flesh sending small shivers through his sore body. The waves from the polluted ocean continued to rap in perfect rhythm on the shore, the sounds of the ocean was the broken destined only comfort. A constant beat that formed a beautiful rhythm with the pounding of his strained heart.
Slowly Matt opened his eyes expecting to either see a blinding light or a darkened tunnel, but instead he was greeted by a vacant beach absent of color, and deranged in appearance. As he blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the twilight atmosphere, he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows giving himself a better position to observe his surroundings.
Putting his weight on his scabbing arms, vaguely noticing the throbbing pain in his joints and the stinging jolts running through his entire body from both wind and sand hitting his raw flesh, he forced his spinning head to concentrate and his blurry vision to clear.
Is this hell, or some twisted version of my nightmares? Maybe the digital world has it's own version of life after death and this is it. But that doesn't make any sense, don't digimon come back as digi-eggs after their data has been reconfigured? So this can't be a digital version of hell. Maybe this is the place where digimon who can't be reconfigured go… but wouldn't that make it a digimon's hell? Or maybe this is just another nightmare….
A frail body, beaten and left bruised from crashing waves, sat on the gray sands of the sepulchral beach. Mirthless azure eyes ran over the melancholy wasteland, locking on every conspicuous landmark and structure that they reached before shifted to the ashen sand.
There's nothing, nothing that matters anyway… this must be a place for meaningless objects
Grizzly sand, in some places as dark as ash, and in other as light as salt stretched on down the beach. Blackened water went far into the horizon until it meet with a murky gray sky, which was slowly darkening to black. Gloomy clouds hung low in the sky, locking the victims into the world by providing a ceiling that was as depressing and obscure as the water. A thick blanket of atrabilious fog settled onto the dark ocean like collective feelings. Feelings settling upon a tedious soul, ready to sink into the water, joining the two moistures together so that every fog of depression that flooded the sky raised the level of water in the dark ocean.
Matt's arms soon began to ache from the strain of holding his upper body up, and he was soon forced to relive the pain by pulling up his arms and flopping back down on the sand like a rag-doll. His back landed lightly on the soft dirt, but the force still knocked some breath out of him, and more pain shot through his vertebra, as his back bone pushed out on his flesh and pulled his weary muscles from their earlier position. His eyes blackened for a moment before light flooded back in, and now he lay tiered on the sand concentrating on nothing by the tiny slits of silver dancing around his line of vision.
The illusion of stars was more intriguing then getting up or trying to seek a way out of his new prison. He knew the tiny shreds of silver light weren't really there, and he knew that seeing them meant that more damage was done to his head then he felt at the moment, but that didn't take his interest away from the light show. It was far easier to focus on something, he knew wasn't really there, then to focus on the reality of his situation.
I wonder what causes us to have delusions. Stupidity? Chemicals? Or maybe Hope? Yeah I think that's it. You build up all this belief that no matter what happens things will eventually get better, but nothing does get better. You continue to lie to yourself, feeding the delusion that hope is real and worth feeling, then all this faith and hopeing lets you down. You through kindle to the fire, you tell yourself things like "this is only temporary", " things will get better", "its happened to others and they came out of it fine, so maybe there's hope for you". Little pieces of kindle feeding the fire of hope. You fan the flame with as much care as you put into building the fire, but this beautiful thing of warmth turns on you. The little thoughts that gave you comfort, only serve to empower the moment when all your dreams and hopes will die. The fire burns you. It reduces you to ashes, then fades out.
Hope is an illusion; it's as fake as these stars.
Soon the stars began to fade, the silver light grew smaller and smaller, until at last the glow was no more. Now the young Guardian was left with nothing to distract him from the pain
I wonder if that is why doctors give you pain pills. Not to erase the pain, but to cause your mind to grow so weak that it can only focus or dwell on pretty colors and flashing lights. Maybe pain is simply all in the mind.
He forced his battered body to sit up once more; this time raising up and pulling his legs in, until he was sitting straight and his legs were crossed.
The wind took this opportunity to blare with full force, sending its icy hand to grip hard on the sitting boy, almost forcing him back to the ash colored sands.
Matt ducked and pulled his knees into his chest hoping the tiny defense would allow him to keep, at least some, of his body heat, but the action seemed to have no effect considering the wind only blew harder, and his body began to shiver more violently then before.
I guess there's really no point in just sitting here. And to think I use to actually like the wind, and the cold. It was nice, the cold would numb your body, and the wind would beat on you with soothing blows that could take your mind as far as the wind itself could blow. But that's just stupid, thoughts are only good if you can put them to some form of action. Even if it is just writing them down.
He shook his head to clear his mind of the presence of pain, cold, hunger, and fatigue; putting all his attention upon one task, standing up. With a tiered sigh and an agitated grunt, Matt stretched out his body and slowly worked his way into a position that would be easy to stand from. He put his hands into the dark sand, feeling the way the dirt made its way into his opened cuts and rubbed painfully against his raw skin. Then he pushed himself up swaggering as he stood, and blinking several times as he fought against the attack of both a head ache and a dizzy spell.
Soon the blurry vision and the weakened limbs past, and Matt was looking around the area once more now from his higher view.
Not much out there, just a beach. Lots of rotting drift wood, a decaying fence with molding posters pinned on them, and the ocean.
That perfect ocean, perfect for finishing the job it started… later. I would love to drown, just like I have been for so many years. But… before I do I would like to at least figure out what this place is suppose to be. Maybe I will find someone who will deliver a message for me. I would at least like to tell TK that I finally got what I wanted… and what I deserve.
Like to free my brother of the burden that is I.
After some time of aimlessly treading through the ashen grit, Matt decided to change his direction and head inland. He found an entrance through the line of rotting fence and began to slowly wander through the narrow pathway.
The further he went, the more he realized that this world was not only a world of darkness but also a world of repetition. Landmarks, shrubbery, flaking posters, all began to merge together. Each corner that was turned, only displayed the small relics as the path before. Every detail faded into one another, until the blonde found himself completely lost amongst the maze of wood, dirt, and dried brush.
I almost wish there was someone here with me, like Gabumom. But Gabumon can't be here, for some reason I know that. He doesn't have a place in this desolate world, but I do. I'm meant to be here, and I'm meant to be here alone, but still I wish he were here…
Matt soon lost interest and track of where he was and where he was going. The destination was already determined; it didn't matter how he got there, as long as he ended up there in the end. He could wander for miles, meet hundreds, and have countless adventures, but in the end he knew he would return to that ocean. He knew somehow he would see those black waters again.
I wonder how I even got to this stupid place? I didn't really think about it before, everything happened so quickly. There was a cave, and then that mist… that painful, heavy mist, and then the ocean. The horrible icy, burning, perfect water. Perfect for drowning in.
Suddenly Matt looked up. The ominous feeling of eyes upon him forced him to brake free from his reverie and scout out the source of his sudden anxiety. But there was nothing. No sound, no sign of life. His rational mind argued that he was simply being paranoid, but something deep within him knew that he wasn't alone any longer.
Matt continued to walk. He wasn't sure how long his trek had lasted. It only seemed like he had been walking for a few minutes, but when he looked around he realized that the fence was some ways behind him, and the ocean was no where in sight.
It doesn't matter; I'll come back to it eventually. It's not like there's any rush.
The land shifted from a flat sandy plane, to rolling hills of black grass. The ground looked like it had been scorched by a raging fire, and all that remained, of what might have been a beautiful cover of green plants, was died dried shrubs, and crisp scorched grass.
The sky hadn't changed; it remained dark like the world had plummeted from its normal axis and sent beyond the sun's reach. An eternal eclipse ruled the sky, shackling every being in this world to the ways of the night.
Night, when fear and darkness are at its strongest. When nightmares haunt child and parent alike. When alone is the most frightening way to be.
Dad always left me alone at night. That was only more water to add to the pool I was drowning in. My parents fighting, the harsh divorce, being alone, being away from TK… all of it was water. Water under the bridge, as some might say, its too bad I fell off the bridge and landed headfirst in that water a long time ago.
The prize continued his trek, heading blindly into the arms of the captor. Darkness rose in the boy with each step he took. The eyes, that looked so hungrily upon its victim, brightened with pleasure at the malicious thoughts filling its head. How easy it would be to simply swoop down and devour this glorious trophy, but orders forbade it. The boy would soon know his place, but more time was needed. Time for the darkness to grow and nourish itself from the unsuspecting child. But it wouldn't be long now. The Digidestined of Friendship was already turning, and now it was only a matter of time, and carefully inflicted pain, before the boy would make the darkness invincible.
~*~*~
Sorry for the short chapters. I know thus far the story has been pretty uneventful, but I promise things will begin to pick up in the next chapter. And once things do start going it will probably go by pretty fast, I have a tendency to draw my stories out too much, so this one will probably only be about five chapters, but a lot will be covered in the remaining chapters. (Of course I can give no promise that it will only be 5 chapters, but that was my original plan).
I hope this chapter didn't bore you too much, I'm not really a fan of pointless angst, so hopefully the plot (which is coming) will be able to make up for these first two chapters. Well opinions, critiquing, and criticism is always welcomed. Thank you for reading and have a very pleasant autumn.