Firefrost: Just a little something for fun. Enjoy (or not), take your pick. You guys know the disclaimer--!
Yugi: Ooh! I do! I do!
Firefrost: Did someone give you sugar again?
Marik: (Whistles while pushing box of pixie sticks under couch)
Firefrost: ... You idiot.
Marik: What?!
Firefrost: You're on babysitting duty. (Looks at readers sweetly) R&R please! ^_^ ^_~
Marik: (Glances back and forth at FF and hyper Yugi) I--! But--! He--! Ah, man!! _
----------------------------------------------
Greetings, I am Anzu. May I ask you something? Have you ever feared something forever, even though you saw it for only a moment? Did it ever happen at a time when joviality, kindness and security in humanity were the rules of the season? Last year, this happened to me...
Friday, December 19:
The chair was comfy, and I settled myself down into its fluffy depths. I heard a scratching on one of the windows of the livingroom, where I was currently; I looked up. It was nothing more than a branch beside the house banging gently against the glass. I glanced about the room absently, distracted from the reason I sat down by the bright colours gathered about.
The room was a good size — not big, not small. The warm red walls were ideal for the time of year, and mimicked other parts of our house. The white, green and red decorations (angels, bows, etc.) were arranged neatly on the shelves, mantle, and walls. The tree, glistening with seemingly countless ornaments sat in the corner; it remained a pinnacle of interest to all who visited us.
My eyes wondered over the walls to a particular frame: one of my favourites. My husband sits there as though he were about to leap out at you, which gives me pleasant chills of excitement, and he knows it! His lavender eyes stare at you as though they'll devour you... His bright platinum shocks hang over his forehead dramatically. He's so handsome!
I looked at the clock hanging on the wall: 4:57 p.m. Malik was due home any minute; he works until four thirty at the University of Domino, a 30 minute drive away. He's the professor of Egyptology. His sister, Isis, and he stayed in Japan ever since the tournament Seto Kaiba held, Battle City. That was nearly nine years ago.
Malik's faithful 'brother,' Rashid, had returned to Egypt shortly after that tournament. He had taken Malik's Millennium Rod with him because Malik (after the incident with his darker self at the tournament) wanted nothing to do with it anymore.
Isis had supported herself and Malik by working as the Domino City Museum's assistant curator. Since then, she became the head curator, and overlooks all of the museum's transactions and finances. Isis is kept busy with work and her three-year-old son, Sabiq.
A loud cry snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked down and saw her. Her tiny face was squished in distress; her blue eyes were wet and pleading, and her bright locks draped over her forehead in a most familiar manner.
"All right, all right," I smiled, unbuttoning the first four snaps of my shirt, preparing to feed my daughter, "you don't have to yell, Kyra."
My cooing steadied my baby, and she began to suckle. Forgive me if I am dwelling on an uncomfortable subject, but it is a wonderful feeling! Breast feeding is like nothing else; there's your baby and you. No one else matters, and both of you are completely relaxed and worry-free. It's so calm, you feel like falling asleep.
The reader may wonder why my household has Christmas decorations and a tree up when my husband is not a Christian. Allow me to explain; Malik and I decided that while it was just us, we wouldn't celebrate 'Christmas' per say, we would call it 'Winter-gift-giving.' We agreed, however, that once we had children, we would alternate each year; one year would be Christmas, the next wouldn't, and so forth in rounds. This way, our babies can understand and appreciate both religions. Once they are grown, we leave it up to them to chose their faith, be it one or the other or a neutral stand point; it does not really matter to Malik and I. They'll always be our babies!
I heard the sound of a car rolling up the driveway. Next came the crunching of boots over snow. Japan doesn't often get snow; we got lucky that year.
I looked down at Kyra and giggled. "Daddy's home!"
The sound of the key in the lock rang through the nearly silent house, for I had turned on the radio to listen to the news before sitting down. In came the trudge of the boots. A moment later, after some shuffling in the front hall, Malik appeared in the archway to my right, joining the front hall and the livingroom.
"Hey!" He said, a grin spread over his tan lips.
"Hi!" I replied, smiling. "Did your day go all right?"
It had been his last day of teaching before Christmas break.
He came over and sat on the floor in front of me. He was wearing a black sweater and lavender pants. His hair was how it was when I first met him as Namu, for he refused to cut it (and, frankly, I didn't want him to, either). My own hair had grown out to my mid back, and I remember what he had told me when he first noticed the change:
"It's so long!" he said while running his fingers through it.
"Not that long," I replied. "Do you like it?"
He spun me around to face him and kissed me, a glaze in his eyes. "I love it."
Malik watched me and Kyra for a while before speaking. "You know, it's kinda weird."
"What?" I replied, looking down at him absently.
"Women have drinks coming out of them. Why don't guys have that? You know, something manly."
I laughed so hard I detached Kyra from my breast by accident. She cried until I readjusted her back onto my other nipple; it was time for her to switch sides anyway. Once I had fully recovered from my fit of giggles, I replied.
"Because if men did, all they'd ever do would be to go around and squirt each other! Even worse, if it were beer. Then their friends would be asking to suck on their nipples!"
It was Malik's turn to laugh hard. His face actually turned from tan to a pink from the force he exerted.
"I suppose my wife is right," he laughed.
He glanced around. "I just noticed how much decoration you have up."
I giggled. "It's Kyra's first Christmas. I want to make it special and wonderful."
The three of us spent the rest of the night in a quiet peace. Malik had once told me that he hoped Kyra would enjoy this kind of relaxation, as he did. He said it gave him time to clear his head and just be — no past, no future, just now. I believe Kyra likes it quiet; she rarely causes a fuss, and is pretty good when it comes to the number of night fits she wakes us with.
There was one time, I remembered, the month before, when Malik and I woke up to what sounded like she was screaming! At first, when we reached her room (right beside ours), we didn't know how to get her to stop. Something had really given her a scare! I think it was the window; it's getting old and sometimes it creaks at night.
That night, we took Kyra into our room and kept her gently between us in a smug embrace. Needless to say, we slept lightly, to make sure she was all right.
This happened once every week since then, on Friday. Each Friday she'd wake us up screaming.
As Malik and I sat in the livingroom silently, he remembered. "Today's Friday."
I looked at Kyra, who was wrapped up in Malik's strong arms. I could tell his toned muscles were tightening slightly around her. It wasn't very surprising; Malik has an extreme sense of protection — especially when it comes to his daughter.
I gently placed my hand on his forearm. "Let's just keep her with us tonight. No point waiting. Besides, it's better to prevent her from being scared in the first place."
He nodded solemnly. "Mm."
He was thinking really deeply alright! To this day, I wonder whether he was running through ways of slaughtering or destroying what was scaring Kyra. Probably; I wouldn't put it past him.
Malik and I decided to turn in early around nine o'clock. We took Kyra in with us, as we had agreed, and I set her gently down on the carpet beside me after Malik had shut the bedroom's double doors.
I heard a click! behind me and turned.
"Malik, why did you lock the doors?"
Malik, in his pale white T-shirt and black sleep pants, picked Kyra up and glanced at the doors, which were, as I said, locked.
"Just in case," he replied.
I slipped on my nightgown and we got into bed, Kyra between us as always. Everything was quiet, and we fell asleep.
I woke up to screaming and someone grabbing me by my arm. My eyes flew open to see Malik standing with Kyra wailing in his arms! He was shaking me with his free hand and calling my name loudly!
"Malik," I said, sleep long forgotten, "what's wrong?"
"That!" he yelled urgently, pointing to the window.
My eyes followed his arm, and I think my eyes were the size of baseballs when my gaze fell upon the small window on the far side of the adjacent wall! A hideous face was staring in at us! An insane grin was plastered on his grimy, wrinkled, gnome-like skin! His eyes were huge and bulgy, and looked bloodshot!
I jumped out of bed and we ran out of the room, locking the door behind us! We heard the sound of glass shattering inside as we ran down the stairs in our night clothes! As we opened the front door, Malik's car keys in one hand and Kyra in his other, we heard the cackling of some bizarre, inhumane, creature from upstairs!
We didn't look back as we got in the car and drove away as fast as we could go without putting ourselves in danger. I was in the back with Kyra in my arms. I put her in her car seat and stroked her affectionately. She was crying just like she'd cried each Friday before. Just another Friday; only now, I was crying with her, and Malik and I knew what had made her cry.
We had gotten to the police and reported what had happened. Six officers were sent to the house while we waited at the station. Malik and I sat in the uncomfortable seats; Kyra was entwined in both our arms.
I realized the spirit of the season had been broken for us. I forced a hollow, bitter laugh through my tears. "Merry Christmas, Kyra."
Her first Christmas had been ruined...
Even after the officers returned, I was still shaking. It was freezing out, and all I was wearing was my slip nightgown! Of course, the officers tried to warm me with blankets, but they did little good. I ended up catching a nasty cold. Luckily, Kyra's pajamas were thick and fuzzy and warm, and she suffered no illness. Malik got a mild cough.
The police had not found the man we saw. Obviously, he had left soon after we had. They reported nothing had been broken or messed with save the broken window in our bedroom. Nothing was stolen or destroyed. Because of this, I question the 'gnome's' sanity.
Two days later, in the company of police, we returned to our house with two moving trucks. In three days, we were packed and ready to relocate (we stayed at a hotel to sleep). Malik and I had decided, for the time being, to put our extra things in storage, while we stayed with Isis and her son.
It didn't take long for us to find a new home. The company we rented our old home from agreed to sever our lease based on the fact that we "no longer feel our family is safe there," in the words of my beloved husband.
It's been one year since that incident. Now, we and one and a half-year-old Kyra live across the city. Malik is still a professor at the university, but we're closer to it now — only ten minutes away. We also live closer to the museum and our friends. I wish I could have caught the look on Jou's face on camera when we showed up at the door as his next door neighbours!
We've managed to leave that dreaded time behind us, and never speak of it (well, almost never). Kyra's become friends with Jou's one-year-old Anna and two-year-old Saki. I've become close with Shizuka, who lives five minutes away. Twice a week, at least, we get together with our friends. Those good times drown out the nightmare that we were plagued with last Christmas. Next year — the next time we celebrate Christmas — it's gonna be different!
The End.
Yugi: Ooh! I do! I do!
Firefrost: Did someone give you sugar again?
Marik: (Whistles while pushing box of pixie sticks under couch)
Firefrost: ... You idiot.
Marik: What?!
Firefrost: You're on babysitting duty. (Looks at readers sweetly) R&R please! ^_^ ^_~
Marik: (Glances back and forth at FF and hyper Yugi) I--! But--! He--! Ah, man!! _
----------------------------------------------
Greetings, I am Anzu. May I ask you something? Have you ever feared something forever, even though you saw it for only a moment? Did it ever happen at a time when joviality, kindness and security in humanity were the rules of the season? Last year, this happened to me...
Friday, December 19:
The chair was comfy, and I settled myself down into its fluffy depths. I heard a scratching on one of the windows of the livingroom, where I was currently; I looked up. It was nothing more than a branch beside the house banging gently against the glass. I glanced about the room absently, distracted from the reason I sat down by the bright colours gathered about.
The room was a good size — not big, not small. The warm red walls were ideal for the time of year, and mimicked other parts of our house. The white, green and red decorations (angels, bows, etc.) were arranged neatly on the shelves, mantle, and walls. The tree, glistening with seemingly countless ornaments sat in the corner; it remained a pinnacle of interest to all who visited us.
My eyes wondered over the walls to a particular frame: one of my favourites. My husband sits there as though he were about to leap out at you, which gives me pleasant chills of excitement, and he knows it! His lavender eyes stare at you as though they'll devour you... His bright platinum shocks hang over his forehead dramatically. He's so handsome!
I looked at the clock hanging on the wall: 4:57 p.m. Malik was due home any minute; he works until four thirty at the University of Domino, a 30 minute drive away. He's the professor of Egyptology. His sister, Isis, and he stayed in Japan ever since the tournament Seto Kaiba held, Battle City. That was nearly nine years ago.
Malik's faithful 'brother,' Rashid, had returned to Egypt shortly after that tournament. He had taken Malik's Millennium Rod with him because Malik (after the incident with his darker self at the tournament) wanted nothing to do with it anymore.
Isis had supported herself and Malik by working as the Domino City Museum's assistant curator. Since then, she became the head curator, and overlooks all of the museum's transactions and finances. Isis is kept busy with work and her three-year-old son, Sabiq.
A loud cry snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked down and saw her. Her tiny face was squished in distress; her blue eyes were wet and pleading, and her bright locks draped over her forehead in a most familiar manner.
"All right, all right," I smiled, unbuttoning the first four snaps of my shirt, preparing to feed my daughter, "you don't have to yell, Kyra."
My cooing steadied my baby, and she began to suckle. Forgive me if I am dwelling on an uncomfortable subject, but it is a wonderful feeling! Breast feeding is like nothing else; there's your baby and you. No one else matters, and both of you are completely relaxed and worry-free. It's so calm, you feel like falling asleep.
The reader may wonder why my household has Christmas decorations and a tree up when my husband is not a Christian. Allow me to explain; Malik and I decided that while it was just us, we wouldn't celebrate 'Christmas' per say, we would call it 'Winter-gift-giving.' We agreed, however, that once we had children, we would alternate each year; one year would be Christmas, the next wouldn't, and so forth in rounds. This way, our babies can understand and appreciate both religions. Once they are grown, we leave it up to them to chose their faith, be it one or the other or a neutral stand point; it does not really matter to Malik and I. They'll always be our babies!
I heard the sound of a car rolling up the driveway. Next came the crunching of boots over snow. Japan doesn't often get snow; we got lucky that year.
I looked down at Kyra and giggled. "Daddy's home!"
The sound of the key in the lock rang through the nearly silent house, for I had turned on the radio to listen to the news before sitting down. In came the trudge of the boots. A moment later, after some shuffling in the front hall, Malik appeared in the archway to my right, joining the front hall and the livingroom.
"Hey!" He said, a grin spread over his tan lips.
"Hi!" I replied, smiling. "Did your day go all right?"
It had been his last day of teaching before Christmas break.
He came over and sat on the floor in front of me. He was wearing a black sweater and lavender pants. His hair was how it was when I first met him as Namu, for he refused to cut it (and, frankly, I didn't want him to, either). My own hair had grown out to my mid back, and I remember what he had told me when he first noticed the change:
"It's so long!" he said while running his fingers through it.
"Not that long," I replied. "Do you like it?"
He spun me around to face him and kissed me, a glaze in his eyes. "I love it."
Malik watched me and Kyra for a while before speaking. "You know, it's kinda weird."
"What?" I replied, looking down at him absently.
"Women have drinks coming out of them. Why don't guys have that? You know, something manly."
I laughed so hard I detached Kyra from my breast by accident. She cried until I readjusted her back onto my other nipple; it was time for her to switch sides anyway. Once I had fully recovered from my fit of giggles, I replied.
"Because if men did, all they'd ever do would be to go around and squirt each other! Even worse, if it were beer. Then their friends would be asking to suck on their nipples!"
It was Malik's turn to laugh hard. His face actually turned from tan to a pink from the force he exerted.
"I suppose my wife is right," he laughed.
He glanced around. "I just noticed how much decoration you have up."
I giggled. "It's Kyra's first Christmas. I want to make it special and wonderful."
The three of us spent the rest of the night in a quiet peace. Malik had once told me that he hoped Kyra would enjoy this kind of relaxation, as he did. He said it gave him time to clear his head and just be — no past, no future, just now. I believe Kyra likes it quiet; she rarely causes a fuss, and is pretty good when it comes to the number of night fits she wakes us with.
There was one time, I remembered, the month before, when Malik and I woke up to what sounded like she was screaming! At first, when we reached her room (right beside ours), we didn't know how to get her to stop. Something had really given her a scare! I think it was the window; it's getting old and sometimes it creaks at night.
That night, we took Kyra into our room and kept her gently between us in a smug embrace. Needless to say, we slept lightly, to make sure she was all right.
This happened once every week since then, on Friday. Each Friday she'd wake us up screaming.
As Malik and I sat in the livingroom silently, he remembered. "Today's Friday."
I looked at Kyra, who was wrapped up in Malik's strong arms. I could tell his toned muscles were tightening slightly around her. It wasn't very surprising; Malik has an extreme sense of protection — especially when it comes to his daughter.
I gently placed my hand on his forearm. "Let's just keep her with us tonight. No point waiting. Besides, it's better to prevent her from being scared in the first place."
He nodded solemnly. "Mm."
He was thinking really deeply alright! To this day, I wonder whether he was running through ways of slaughtering or destroying what was scaring Kyra. Probably; I wouldn't put it past him.
Malik and I decided to turn in early around nine o'clock. We took Kyra in with us, as we had agreed, and I set her gently down on the carpet beside me after Malik had shut the bedroom's double doors.
I heard a click! behind me and turned.
"Malik, why did you lock the doors?"
Malik, in his pale white T-shirt and black sleep pants, picked Kyra up and glanced at the doors, which were, as I said, locked.
"Just in case," he replied.
I slipped on my nightgown and we got into bed, Kyra between us as always. Everything was quiet, and we fell asleep.
I woke up to screaming and someone grabbing me by my arm. My eyes flew open to see Malik standing with Kyra wailing in his arms! He was shaking me with his free hand and calling my name loudly!
"Malik," I said, sleep long forgotten, "what's wrong?"
"That!" he yelled urgently, pointing to the window.
My eyes followed his arm, and I think my eyes were the size of baseballs when my gaze fell upon the small window on the far side of the adjacent wall! A hideous face was staring in at us! An insane grin was plastered on his grimy, wrinkled, gnome-like skin! His eyes were huge and bulgy, and looked bloodshot!
I jumped out of bed and we ran out of the room, locking the door behind us! We heard the sound of glass shattering inside as we ran down the stairs in our night clothes! As we opened the front door, Malik's car keys in one hand and Kyra in his other, we heard the cackling of some bizarre, inhumane, creature from upstairs!
We didn't look back as we got in the car and drove away as fast as we could go without putting ourselves in danger. I was in the back with Kyra in my arms. I put her in her car seat and stroked her affectionately. She was crying just like she'd cried each Friday before. Just another Friday; only now, I was crying with her, and Malik and I knew what had made her cry.
We had gotten to the police and reported what had happened. Six officers were sent to the house while we waited at the station. Malik and I sat in the uncomfortable seats; Kyra was entwined in both our arms.
I realized the spirit of the season had been broken for us. I forced a hollow, bitter laugh through my tears. "Merry Christmas, Kyra."
Her first Christmas had been ruined...
Even after the officers returned, I was still shaking. It was freezing out, and all I was wearing was my slip nightgown! Of course, the officers tried to warm me with blankets, but they did little good. I ended up catching a nasty cold. Luckily, Kyra's pajamas were thick and fuzzy and warm, and she suffered no illness. Malik got a mild cough.
The police had not found the man we saw. Obviously, he had left soon after we had. They reported nothing had been broken or messed with save the broken window in our bedroom. Nothing was stolen or destroyed. Because of this, I question the 'gnome's' sanity.
Two days later, in the company of police, we returned to our house with two moving trucks. In three days, we were packed and ready to relocate (we stayed at a hotel to sleep). Malik and I had decided, for the time being, to put our extra things in storage, while we stayed with Isis and her son.
It didn't take long for us to find a new home. The company we rented our old home from agreed to sever our lease based on the fact that we "no longer feel our family is safe there," in the words of my beloved husband.
It's been one year since that incident. Now, we and one and a half-year-old Kyra live across the city. Malik is still a professor at the university, but we're closer to it now — only ten minutes away. We also live closer to the museum and our friends. I wish I could have caught the look on Jou's face on camera when we showed up at the door as his next door neighbours!
We've managed to leave that dreaded time behind us, and never speak of it (well, almost never). Kyra's become friends with Jou's one-year-old Anna and two-year-old Saki. I've become close with Shizuka, who lives five minutes away. Twice a week, at least, we get together with our friends. Those good times drown out the nightmare that we were plagued with last Christmas. Next year — the next time we celebrate Christmas — it's gonna be different!
The End.