Disclaimer: I wish I could tell you I owned the TMNT. I mean, I still could
I suppose, I'd just be lying. The original characters are mine though, so
be kind and don't steal them.
Clover:
This is how it was.
I once thought life was a book that I could write to suit my likings. Attractive pages of perfection that spilled out words of good fortune; chapter after chapter of them. Was that optimism or stupidity? Youth or foreshadowed pain? I hadn't known that the future was its own master, dependent on fate and thriving off the shattered pieces of broken dreams. I hadn't realized that when we are born into this world the only thing we can depend on is time, and even that is not promised to us as it slowly dwindles away. Seconds are constantly being spent on things we would later wish we hadn't done. And not spent on the things we would wish we had. Constantly, each one of these precious gifts, the tiniest fragments of time, was given to me, I would spend it carelessly; unthinking. I hadn't realized I would never get them back.
When you're young, everything seems to fall into place. Like a rainfall, all the drops land just where they're supposed to. Moonlight dances through the windows of bare-branched trees, staying just long enough to make us go looking for more. Shadows flicker on the right parts of your face in dusk and in candlelight. Everything happens in an effortless maintained fashion. And yet, for some unknown reason, people are eager to grow out of that priceless secret we're all given. Like seconds, childhood is spent on careless things. Most of us spend it waiting for it to end. Then we wait a lifetime wishing it would come back.
People are a peculiar sort. We lose their health to make money, and then lose our money to get back our health. We live like we'll never die, and die like we never lived. What kind of ignorance does man have to think he is God's greatest creation? We have given ourselves the prerogative to judge, hold prejudice against another person, and to take another's life, or our own life. We're cruel, but somehow got the idea that was okay to do. Somewhere during the course of these scores of seconds, people just turned...rotten.
I sighed my breath into the twilight sky. It hung there for a moment by un- seen threads before it became invisible and undoubtedly drifted elsewhere. It was a good time to be outside. The sky looked like it had been struck ablaze. Or like an egg yolk. It depends what kind of person you are. I collapsed desperately into the cool relief of the grass in central park. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and breathed deeply. My arms fell lazily to my stomach, and when the blurriness of my vision had been blinked away, I saw them. Donatello and Sky. Sky and Donatello. She had her arm linked tightly through his, and they weren't quite moving, just sort of standing and holding each other with the occasional sway. I'd just met Donny, but I liked to think I knew Sky pretty well. We'd been sisters for a while. We looked a lot alike if you squinted a little. Her features were more well defined than mine were. I sighed again. I hadn't been out tonight with the intent of trying to solve the world's problems. And I certainly hadn't come out to think about nor dwell on...her. I flipped onto my back and re-examined the couple upside-down. It didn't fit. I couldn't twist it so it did. I couldn't tell you what it was. But it was there. Something about her. It was wrong. It was off. Besides the obvious, I mean. I was glad I'd worn a jacket; my pants were already damp with evening dew. I reassured myself that this wasn't real. It was impossible. They just had the same name. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and realized my heart was about to beat through my ribcage.
Things had been going a little better until I ran into Donnie and my dead sister. That more or less ruined my day.
Clover:
This is how it was.
I once thought life was a book that I could write to suit my likings. Attractive pages of perfection that spilled out words of good fortune; chapter after chapter of them. Was that optimism or stupidity? Youth or foreshadowed pain? I hadn't known that the future was its own master, dependent on fate and thriving off the shattered pieces of broken dreams. I hadn't realized that when we are born into this world the only thing we can depend on is time, and even that is not promised to us as it slowly dwindles away. Seconds are constantly being spent on things we would later wish we hadn't done. And not spent on the things we would wish we had. Constantly, each one of these precious gifts, the tiniest fragments of time, was given to me, I would spend it carelessly; unthinking. I hadn't realized I would never get them back.
When you're young, everything seems to fall into place. Like a rainfall, all the drops land just where they're supposed to. Moonlight dances through the windows of bare-branched trees, staying just long enough to make us go looking for more. Shadows flicker on the right parts of your face in dusk and in candlelight. Everything happens in an effortless maintained fashion. And yet, for some unknown reason, people are eager to grow out of that priceless secret we're all given. Like seconds, childhood is spent on careless things. Most of us spend it waiting for it to end. Then we wait a lifetime wishing it would come back.
People are a peculiar sort. We lose their health to make money, and then lose our money to get back our health. We live like we'll never die, and die like we never lived. What kind of ignorance does man have to think he is God's greatest creation? We have given ourselves the prerogative to judge, hold prejudice against another person, and to take another's life, or our own life. We're cruel, but somehow got the idea that was okay to do. Somewhere during the course of these scores of seconds, people just turned...rotten.
I sighed my breath into the twilight sky. It hung there for a moment by un- seen threads before it became invisible and undoubtedly drifted elsewhere. It was a good time to be outside. The sky looked like it had been struck ablaze. Or like an egg yolk. It depends what kind of person you are. I collapsed desperately into the cool relief of the grass in central park. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and breathed deeply. My arms fell lazily to my stomach, and when the blurriness of my vision had been blinked away, I saw them. Donatello and Sky. Sky and Donatello. She had her arm linked tightly through his, and they weren't quite moving, just sort of standing and holding each other with the occasional sway. I'd just met Donny, but I liked to think I knew Sky pretty well. We'd been sisters for a while. We looked a lot alike if you squinted a little. Her features were more well defined than mine were. I sighed again. I hadn't been out tonight with the intent of trying to solve the world's problems. And I certainly hadn't come out to think about nor dwell on...her. I flipped onto my back and re-examined the couple upside-down. It didn't fit. I couldn't twist it so it did. I couldn't tell you what it was. But it was there. Something about her. It was wrong. It was off. Besides the obvious, I mean. I was glad I'd worn a jacket; my pants were already damp with evening dew. I reassured myself that this wasn't real. It was impossible. They just had the same name. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and realized my heart was about to beat through my ribcage.
Things had been going a little better until I ran into Donnie and my dead sister. That more or less ruined my day.