Suspended In Gaffa
The dark and the light,
cross paths but once a sliver,
of the dark sided moon.
They are like the ying,
and the joyful yang happiness,
is their rule of life.
But when one is set,
upon the other by the darkness,
then there shall be void.
Nothingness is pain,
suspended in gaffa's,
hate, remember love . . . . .
Proprecy of Gaffa, from exerts of the Soverigns . . . . .
He stood, surrounded by his own bitter darkness and pain. Anger seething around him, his own feelings betraying his ultimate purpose. Destroy those destined to destroy him, before they could even begin to try. He needed a plan, a descion that would bring a better, more suited fate for him and his purposes.
Malomyotismon, was this monster, this demon, had a plan. He also had a destiny to achieve, to kill or to be killed. Such a noble question, such a tremendous prospect. He smiled a devilish smile, looking into the future, yes, they would beat him once. But never again, they would feel the pain he would feel. Yes, pure gaffa . . . That is what these destined needed to feel. They needed to feel things they never felt before, they needed to learn never to cross someone as powerful as he. And this is where Gaffa, first came into existence.
She opened her piercing azure eyes, she was new. She was digital, yet she was human . . . She stood from her beginnings, knowing her mission and nothing else . . . All she knew was to kill, to maim to hurt. To infritrate even the most exlusive of groups, the Digi-Destined . . . Her name was Gaffa, and no one but her could feel her pain . . .
Maybe it started long ago, or just recently . . . She opened her eyes, and knew her mission. She awoke for the first time, awoke to pain, hate, and fate. She knew no fear, no mercy. Only that for which she had been programed for, is what she knew. Nothing else, nothing more. She was comprised on data, looking down at her wrists, her gaze following upwards towards her arms. She realized, that somehow or another she was something that looked like a human, but not a human.
She brought her hands to her hair, and caught a short fly away strand, deep jet black, against the paleness of her hands. She looked futher down, and noticed that she had clothes. Dark pants, the color of her hair. Flared at the ends, her shoes were boots, shaped beautifully with long high heels at the end, and steel in the toes, her shirt flared out where her hands were, cascading down, beautifully. Flames were printed there, cascading down, like a waterfall of fire. Her boots were marked with flames also, coming up from the soles of her feet. Her pants legs were streaked with fire, she looked closer at her hands, they were slender, pianist hands, long fingers, with graceful nails, her gloves were dark, those too had fire emborted on them, they were cut off at the fingers. She looked down at the ground, beside her feet lay a coat, bending over, she took it in her hands. Rising upwards, getting the hang of the feeling of movement, she moved her arms outward, so as to look at the coat.
It was a long trench coat, black everywhere . . . Except the back, which held a picture of a flaming dragon, extending its tattered wings in flight. Shooting from its mouth was dark crimson flames, which formed a sign as the object which the dragon had set on fire, was turning to cinders, know only too well to those she was created to kill, the crest of miracles . . .
Well, how was the prologue? You have better have liked it, if you didn't, well, then screw you!
Akira: I'm Sora's big sister, basically I convey her words into writing.
Sora: Yeap, this crap is her bullsh uuuuhhhhhh...... crap . . . . . . . . . *Smiles innocently at evil big sister, who looks even more evil then usual, at her little sister's swearing.
Akira: Sora, I thought I taught you not to swear?
Sora: But bullcrap, ain't a cuss word.
Akira: You mean, 'bullcrap, isn't a curse word,' don't you? Well, you have better.
Sora: IIIIIIIEEKKK. . . . . Yes, Akira, I'm sorry Akira! I won't ever make you angry again! I promise on my honor! *Looks as innocent as she can go, her little eyes becoming wide and astonishingly cute.*
Akira: *Snorts* What honor?
Sora: AUGGGGGGG! I have plenty of honor!
Akira: Then get on with thanking the readers you idiot!
Sora: Yes, Akira, slave master, Akira, I shall give the readers their precious thank you, if you request master! *Sora says sarcastically rolling her eyes*
Akira: STOP IT! *She thunders*
Sora: *Cowering in fear, she squeaks out her thank yous, while her evil sister, Akira, watches her, standing above her, glaring down at her younger sibling.* Thank you everyone, I've had this idea for quite a while. I thought you might want to hear it, Suspended in Gaffa, though, is actually a song by Kate Bush, a Brit singer, from the late 70's to the 80's and beyond, the song is from the album "The Dreaming."
I think you would love the CD if you gave it a try! Well, anyways, thank you everyone who has read this, this is only the beginning, a prologue of sorts, the actual story will begin next chapter, it shall feature at least one of the digidestined. Well, please read, and kindly review, please. Oh yeah, I would like to kindly thank everyone who reads this, once more! I'll take the time and review you back if you have any storys up! So please review, I need the critism, so I can improve my way of thinking. Thank You!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon, oddly enough it gives me a sad little feeling in the pit of my stomach . . . I don't own 'Suspended in Gaffa' either . . . *Looks as sad as a kid can go. *
Thank You.
The dark and the light,
cross paths but once a sliver,
of the dark sided moon.
They are like the ying,
and the joyful yang happiness,
is their rule of life.
But when one is set,
upon the other by the darkness,
then there shall be void.
Nothingness is pain,
suspended in gaffa's,
hate, remember love . . . . .
Proprecy of Gaffa, from exerts of the Soverigns . . . . .
He stood, surrounded by his own bitter darkness and pain. Anger seething around him, his own feelings betraying his ultimate purpose. Destroy those destined to destroy him, before they could even begin to try. He needed a plan, a descion that would bring a better, more suited fate for him and his purposes.
Malomyotismon, was this monster, this demon, had a plan. He also had a destiny to achieve, to kill or to be killed. Such a noble question, such a tremendous prospect. He smiled a devilish smile, looking into the future, yes, they would beat him once. But never again, they would feel the pain he would feel. Yes, pure gaffa . . . That is what these destined needed to feel. They needed to feel things they never felt before, they needed to learn never to cross someone as powerful as he. And this is where Gaffa, first came into existence.
She opened her piercing azure eyes, she was new. She was digital, yet she was human . . . She stood from her beginnings, knowing her mission and nothing else . . . All she knew was to kill, to maim to hurt. To infritrate even the most exlusive of groups, the Digi-Destined . . . Her name was Gaffa, and no one but her could feel her pain . . .
Maybe it started long ago, or just recently . . . She opened her eyes, and knew her mission. She awoke for the first time, awoke to pain, hate, and fate. She knew no fear, no mercy. Only that for which she had been programed for, is what she knew. Nothing else, nothing more. She was comprised on data, looking down at her wrists, her gaze following upwards towards her arms. She realized, that somehow or another she was something that looked like a human, but not a human.
She brought her hands to her hair, and caught a short fly away strand, deep jet black, against the paleness of her hands. She looked futher down, and noticed that she had clothes. Dark pants, the color of her hair. Flared at the ends, her shoes were boots, shaped beautifully with long high heels at the end, and steel in the toes, her shirt flared out where her hands were, cascading down, beautifully. Flames were printed there, cascading down, like a waterfall of fire. Her boots were marked with flames also, coming up from the soles of her feet. Her pants legs were streaked with fire, she looked closer at her hands, they were slender, pianist hands, long fingers, with graceful nails, her gloves were dark, those too had fire emborted on them, they were cut off at the fingers. She looked down at the ground, beside her feet lay a coat, bending over, she took it in her hands. Rising upwards, getting the hang of the feeling of movement, she moved her arms outward, so as to look at the coat.
It was a long trench coat, black everywhere . . . Except the back, which held a picture of a flaming dragon, extending its tattered wings in flight. Shooting from its mouth was dark crimson flames, which formed a sign as the object which the dragon had set on fire, was turning to cinders, know only too well to those she was created to kill, the crest of miracles . . .
Well, how was the prologue? You have better have liked it, if you didn't, well, then screw you!
Akira: I'm Sora's big sister, basically I convey her words into writing.
Sora: Yeap, this crap is her bullsh uuuuhhhhhh...... crap . . . . . . . . . *Smiles innocently at evil big sister, who looks even more evil then usual, at her little sister's swearing.
Akira: Sora, I thought I taught you not to swear?
Sora: But bullcrap, ain't a cuss word.
Akira: You mean, 'bullcrap, isn't a curse word,' don't you? Well, you have better.
Sora: IIIIIIIEEKKK. . . . . Yes, Akira, I'm sorry Akira! I won't ever make you angry again! I promise on my honor! *Looks as innocent as she can go, her little eyes becoming wide and astonishingly cute.*
Akira: *Snorts* What honor?
Sora: AUGGGGGGG! I have plenty of honor!
Akira: Then get on with thanking the readers you idiot!
Sora: Yes, Akira, slave master, Akira, I shall give the readers their precious thank you, if you request master! *Sora says sarcastically rolling her eyes*
Akira: STOP IT! *She thunders*
Sora: *Cowering in fear, she squeaks out her thank yous, while her evil sister, Akira, watches her, standing above her, glaring down at her younger sibling.* Thank you everyone, I've had this idea for quite a while. I thought you might want to hear it, Suspended in Gaffa, though, is actually a song by Kate Bush, a Brit singer, from the late 70's to the 80's and beyond, the song is from the album "The Dreaming."
I think you would love the CD if you gave it a try! Well, anyways, thank you everyone who has read this, this is only the beginning, a prologue of sorts, the actual story will begin next chapter, it shall feature at least one of the digidestined. Well, please read, and kindly review, please. Oh yeah, I would like to kindly thank everyone who reads this, once more! I'll take the time and review you back if you have any storys up! So please review, I need the critism, so I can improve my way of thinking. Thank You!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon, oddly enough it gives me a sad little feeling in the pit of my stomach . . . I don't own 'Suspended in Gaffa' either . . . *Looks as sad as a kid can go. *
Thank You.