-Mushi-
Disclaimer: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac belongs to the great Jhonen Vasquez. He hates fanfiction. The song, "Mushi" belongs to the amazing J- Rock band, Dir en Grey. I'll be using the English translations, because the words are beautiful, and the song is all in Japanese. "Mushi" means insect. The song kind of fits.
NOTE: TRANSLATION MAY BE INCORRECT.
I don't care if all the fans of the fic "Miffy" by Evil-Junini come and flame me and tell me to go back to writing YuYu Hakusho fics. First of all, I lost interest in that fic. Also, flames don't bug me like they do others. I accept them. Especially if I am told what I did wrong in my writing. I wasn't trying to be funny when I said the eraser shavings comment. Most people can tell when I'm trying to be funny. Continuing on now!
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-I can't open myself up to anyone, I can't believe in anyone at all
and I can't see anything, the light that shines is disappearing, soon it will be gone
unable to open myself up, this is my weakness, my past
I can get what I want, yet... if I do, the kindness I'm holding onto will slip away
the typical answer is when you die, you'll be reborn, come back again...-
Another victim killed, this one had been a teenager. She had been kind of pretty, he supposed. Her face covered in freckles, and her dark brown hair cut short. She had been dressed like some HotTopic shopping punk. She and her worthlessly ugly group of friends had all been crowded around a park bench insulting people.
"Queer-bait! Queer-bait!" she had yelled to him as he strode by with his headphones blasting Mozart into his cranium.
He had froze with his back turned to them, the sunlight on that beautiful day had suddenly disappeared it seemed. Anger clouded his mind, his fist clenched, cutting holes through his black gloves and into his skinny, bony hands. Slowly he turned and put on his eerie smile as he stared at the group of teenagers.
They laughed at him, "Freak! Freak!" they all called him as they laughed.
Quickly, his hands reached for his knives that he had in his backpack. With swift movements, and great agile, he gutted each of the girl's friends. Their screams were music to his insane mind as he cut each of their eyes out. He had strangled some of them with their own intestines. Then he looked at her, covered in the other teen's blood.
-My heart is shuttered, soon it will break apart
stifling my tears, I laugh day after day
my heart has shown me that believing is nothing
those hypocrites killed me...-
She had screamed before he knocked her unconscious and dragged her to his home. House 777, the ugly little shack with many basement levels. He had chained her, or just tied her up with duct tape. He couldn't remember now. How he killed her had been so clear and vivid in his mind. The rest was an unimportant blur.
She looked at him, the look of fear on her face fed his bloodlust to the highest of extents. He giggled, "You pathetic being of filth!" he cried out as he giggled, his laughter soon turned to screams of anger.
"Why are you doing this?!" she cried, "If it was because of what my friends and I said, they made me do it!"
"You are shit! You think because I am different, you can insult me! ASSHOLE! You insult me because others insult your so-called alternative looks! Hypocrite!" he yelled, his dark eyes bright with insane anger.
"I'm sorry! Please! Let me go! I'll never insult you ever again!" she cried louder this time.
"You shit! You may stop insulting me, but there will be others! Assholes like you make this world a hell! You think because you're different, you can say what you want! You can be as much of a prick to those around you until eventually, your pain is transferred to the ones you've offended! YOU SHIT-FACED LITTLE FUCKER!!" he screamed as he took his knife and sliced a straight line down her back.
He dug deeper with his knife in her back, and slowly he pulled out her spinal chord. He made tiny cuts along her nerves, her body made jerks every so often. She screamed loudly, one long, wordless scream that sounded like she never took a breath. With her spinal chord cut, he took his knife up to her face. Her somewhat beautiful, somewhat ugly face, and cut around the shape of her face.
He peeled back the skin, peeling her face off. Blood was splattering him, but he didn't care. She still screamed, blood ran into her mouth and she started to choke loudly. With his knife, he dragged it down her neck and to her chest, and with a quick plunge; he stabbed her lungs. It would kill her slowly. She would drown in her own blood.
Her cut off her legs and arms, after cutting off her toes and feet first, she continued to choke and scream loudly. He cut off chunks of her soft brown hair, and ripped open her skull. Nny cut her brain into fractions of fourths, and took the pieces out one at a time. Then stomped on them, splattering them onto his boots and floor.
When she was finally dead, he collapsed onto the floor, his chest was heaving with pants. He feel tears run down his face; he did not want this. This feeling that he always had. It ate at his mind; it drove him insane. He hated himself. The pain everyday, it drove him mad.
"I do not want this," he whispered as he curled himself into a tiny ball.
He had forgotten so many things. What was his purpose? Who was he, really? He was Johnny C... he didn't remember his age, other then he was in his 20's. He had black hair, was 5'9" and weighed very little. He had old paintings, paintings that he longed to still be able to paint. Old memories weighed on him like a paperweight; he was the paper.
Memories of a slender dark hair woman with a beautiful face, although he couldn't remember her face clearly. She had been kind, she would sing to him. His mother? He couldn't remember. Memories of a man who was tall, with light hair and dark eyes. Memories of the woman hiding him in the closet as the man screamed and hit her. Broken memories. Fragments.
He remembered a girl with blonde hair, and hazel eyes. A girl he loved. A girl who loved him back. She was his second victim. She had hurt him, but he couldn't remember what it was she had done to him. He just remembered that feeling of anger and betrayal.
He remembered so little. So little about himself, his past, his family. He wanted to remember what it was like to feel true happiness. Not having to worry, to care about the bad things in the world so much. He wanted to be... normal.
Nny screamed out in agony, "I hate this! I HATE THIS! Oh God... I hate this..." he whispered as he tried to stop his screams and his tears.
-My heart is shuttered, soon it will crumble away
stifling my tears, I scream day after day
my heart has left me with a belief in strength
my own heart killed me.-
Johnny C. let his soul die that day. He left it somewhere in a capsule in the back of his mind. Johnny C. let his soul go over the stars...
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Okay, that's it. Just a little one shot. I tried my best at it. I realized as I was writing this that I can't write gory death scenes at all. Xx Anyways, if you want to review, just press the REVIEW button. If you don't want to review then... um... GO AWAY! Okay? Buh-bye.
Disclaimer: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac belongs to the great Jhonen Vasquez. He hates fanfiction. The song, "Mushi" belongs to the amazing J- Rock band, Dir en Grey. I'll be using the English translations, because the words are beautiful, and the song is all in Japanese. "Mushi" means insect. The song kind of fits.
NOTE: TRANSLATION MAY BE INCORRECT.
I don't care if all the fans of the fic "Miffy" by Evil-Junini come and flame me and tell me to go back to writing YuYu Hakusho fics. First of all, I lost interest in that fic. Also, flames don't bug me like they do others. I accept them. Especially if I am told what I did wrong in my writing. I wasn't trying to be funny when I said the eraser shavings comment. Most people can tell when I'm trying to be funny. Continuing on now!
-------------
-I can't open myself up to anyone, I can't believe in anyone at all
and I can't see anything, the light that shines is disappearing, soon it will be gone
unable to open myself up, this is my weakness, my past
I can get what I want, yet... if I do, the kindness I'm holding onto will slip away
the typical answer is when you die, you'll be reborn, come back again...-
Another victim killed, this one had been a teenager. She had been kind of pretty, he supposed. Her face covered in freckles, and her dark brown hair cut short. She had been dressed like some HotTopic shopping punk. She and her worthlessly ugly group of friends had all been crowded around a park bench insulting people.
"Queer-bait! Queer-bait!" she had yelled to him as he strode by with his headphones blasting Mozart into his cranium.
He had froze with his back turned to them, the sunlight on that beautiful day had suddenly disappeared it seemed. Anger clouded his mind, his fist clenched, cutting holes through his black gloves and into his skinny, bony hands. Slowly he turned and put on his eerie smile as he stared at the group of teenagers.
They laughed at him, "Freak! Freak!" they all called him as they laughed.
Quickly, his hands reached for his knives that he had in his backpack. With swift movements, and great agile, he gutted each of the girl's friends. Their screams were music to his insane mind as he cut each of their eyes out. He had strangled some of them with their own intestines. Then he looked at her, covered in the other teen's blood.
-My heart is shuttered, soon it will break apart
stifling my tears, I laugh day after day
my heart has shown me that believing is nothing
those hypocrites killed me...-
She had screamed before he knocked her unconscious and dragged her to his home. House 777, the ugly little shack with many basement levels. He had chained her, or just tied her up with duct tape. He couldn't remember now. How he killed her had been so clear and vivid in his mind. The rest was an unimportant blur.
She looked at him, the look of fear on her face fed his bloodlust to the highest of extents. He giggled, "You pathetic being of filth!" he cried out as he giggled, his laughter soon turned to screams of anger.
"Why are you doing this?!" she cried, "If it was because of what my friends and I said, they made me do it!"
"You are shit! You think because I am different, you can insult me! ASSHOLE! You insult me because others insult your so-called alternative looks! Hypocrite!" he yelled, his dark eyes bright with insane anger.
"I'm sorry! Please! Let me go! I'll never insult you ever again!" she cried louder this time.
"You shit! You may stop insulting me, but there will be others! Assholes like you make this world a hell! You think because you're different, you can say what you want! You can be as much of a prick to those around you until eventually, your pain is transferred to the ones you've offended! YOU SHIT-FACED LITTLE FUCKER!!" he screamed as he took his knife and sliced a straight line down her back.
He dug deeper with his knife in her back, and slowly he pulled out her spinal chord. He made tiny cuts along her nerves, her body made jerks every so often. She screamed loudly, one long, wordless scream that sounded like she never took a breath. With her spinal chord cut, he took his knife up to her face. Her somewhat beautiful, somewhat ugly face, and cut around the shape of her face.
He peeled back the skin, peeling her face off. Blood was splattering him, but he didn't care. She still screamed, blood ran into her mouth and she started to choke loudly. With his knife, he dragged it down her neck and to her chest, and with a quick plunge; he stabbed her lungs. It would kill her slowly. She would drown in her own blood.
Her cut off her legs and arms, after cutting off her toes and feet first, she continued to choke and scream loudly. He cut off chunks of her soft brown hair, and ripped open her skull. Nny cut her brain into fractions of fourths, and took the pieces out one at a time. Then stomped on them, splattering them onto his boots and floor.
When she was finally dead, he collapsed onto the floor, his chest was heaving with pants. He feel tears run down his face; he did not want this. This feeling that he always had. It ate at his mind; it drove him insane. He hated himself. The pain everyday, it drove him mad.
"I do not want this," he whispered as he curled himself into a tiny ball.
He had forgotten so many things. What was his purpose? Who was he, really? He was Johnny C... he didn't remember his age, other then he was in his 20's. He had black hair, was 5'9" and weighed very little. He had old paintings, paintings that he longed to still be able to paint. Old memories weighed on him like a paperweight; he was the paper.
Memories of a slender dark hair woman with a beautiful face, although he couldn't remember her face clearly. She had been kind, she would sing to him. His mother? He couldn't remember. Memories of a man who was tall, with light hair and dark eyes. Memories of the woman hiding him in the closet as the man screamed and hit her. Broken memories. Fragments.
He remembered a girl with blonde hair, and hazel eyes. A girl he loved. A girl who loved him back. She was his second victim. She had hurt him, but he couldn't remember what it was she had done to him. He just remembered that feeling of anger and betrayal.
He remembered so little. So little about himself, his past, his family. He wanted to remember what it was like to feel true happiness. Not having to worry, to care about the bad things in the world so much. He wanted to be... normal.
Nny screamed out in agony, "I hate this! I HATE THIS! Oh God... I hate this..." he whispered as he tried to stop his screams and his tears.
-My heart is shuttered, soon it will crumble away
stifling my tears, I scream day after day
my heart has left me with a belief in strength
my own heart killed me.-
Johnny C. let his soul die that day. He left it somewhere in a capsule in the back of his mind. Johnny C. let his soul go over the stars...
--------------
Okay, that's it. Just a little one shot. I tried my best at it. I realized as I was writing this that I can't write gory death scenes at all. Xx Anyways, if you want to review, just press the REVIEW button. If you don't want to review then... um... GO AWAY! Okay? Buh-bye.