MEMORIES OF A STAMPEDE
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun
It was a windy evening and the sand was gently blowing against a house that stood alone, away from the town. The room was dimly lit and smelt of dust and burnt candle smoke. He sat on his favourite rocking chair, swaying slowly back and forth. His hair a dull almost white blonde, his eyes sad and light green., clothed in a red coat which was his for centuries. Staring thoughtfully at the fireplace and sporting a goofy grin he slowly looked up. A tear rolled gently from his eye and sliped slowly down his cheek. The man began to cry silently as his whole past began to run through his mind. A feeling of melancholy overwhelmed him as he began to remember. It was vague now, merely a collection of images that were his life. The room was crowded with ghosts. The scene was a dreamlike fantasy as the visitors from another time and place glided around the room.
He saw Rem: Her face as clear to him as it was those 900 years ago. Her words echoed through his head. Her words upon which his whole life was based. Her ideas and ideals which were his sanctuary and solitude. he smiled at her as she slowly glided past.
He saw Woolfwood and Milly, their smiling faces watching him from afar. The tears which had momentarily checked began streaming readily again. Wolfwood, one of the few men who could truly have been called his friend. A man who died immedietly after truly finding himself. A man who wanted to live in a world where life was easier. Where there'd be no killing nor stealing....an eden. The man clasped his face with both hands, crying softly now. Milly strode slowly towards him and put her hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see the ghostly figure smile and slowly vanish. The room was slowly spinning now, the light slowly fading. His body began to shake as he saw her. So clear, so real, exactly how he remembered her. ''Meryl'' the man spoke for the first time. The Ghostly apparition smiled as it vanished. The man smiled to himself ''I will see you soon'' The final figure danced around the slowly fading room. It watched him with contempt. Its face contorted into a mocking stare. The man watched it with regret. The figure began to slowly disappear. He could not stand the fact that he could not save the man that had died shortly after their final encounter. The room became darker still. The memories paraded around the man once know as Vash The Stampede. As he sat there it seemed as though ghost voices whispered all around him in the tiny house. The wind whispered and sighed outside, and the sigh was that which a man might make when he lost his love and his friends and was denied his peace. He might sigh like that when he slowly closes his eyes never to open them again.
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun
It was a windy evening and the sand was gently blowing against a house that stood alone, away from the town. The room was dimly lit and smelt of dust and burnt candle smoke. He sat on his favourite rocking chair, swaying slowly back and forth. His hair a dull almost white blonde, his eyes sad and light green., clothed in a red coat which was his for centuries. Staring thoughtfully at the fireplace and sporting a goofy grin he slowly looked up. A tear rolled gently from his eye and sliped slowly down his cheek. The man began to cry silently as his whole past began to run through his mind. A feeling of melancholy overwhelmed him as he began to remember. It was vague now, merely a collection of images that were his life. The room was crowded with ghosts. The scene was a dreamlike fantasy as the visitors from another time and place glided around the room.
He saw Rem: Her face as clear to him as it was those 900 years ago. Her words echoed through his head. Her words upon which his whole life was based. Her ideas and ideals which were his sanctuary and solitude. he smiled at her as she slowly glided past.
He saw Woolfwood and Milly, their smiling faces watching him from afar. The tears which had momentarily checked began streaming readily again. Wolfwood, one of the few men who could truly have been called his friend. A man who died immedietly after truly finding himself. A man who wanted to live in a world where life was easier. Where there'd be no killing nor stealing....an eden. The man clasped his face with both hands, crying softly now. Milly strode slowly towards him and put her hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see the ghostly figure smile and slowly vanish. The room was slowly spinning now, the light slowly fading. His body began to shake as he saw her. So clear, so real, exactly how he remembered her. ''Meryl'' the man spoke for the first time. The Ghostly apparition smiled as it vanished. The man smiled to himself ''I will see you soon'' The final figure danced around the slowly fading room. It watched him with contempt. Its face contorted into a mocking stare. The man watched it with regret. The figure began to slowly disappear. He could not stand the fact that he could not save the man that had died shortly after their final encounter. The room became darker still. The memories paraded around the man once know as Vash The Stampede. As he sat there it seemed as though ghost voices whispered all around him in the tiny house. The wind whispered and sighed outside, and the sigh was that which a man might make when he lost his love and his friends and was denied his peace. He might sigh like that when he slowly closes his eyes never to open them again.