Chapter 2
Soul's light
I lay dumbfounded against the tree, an arrow with a strange blue-ish hue piercing what would have been my heart. But nothing was there anymore, and if there was something there, it was not needed for my survival. A mere mortal would have died almost instantly from the arrow, I found I wasn't though, another downside to being of what I am. Not to mention that I could not die or be killed.
I had been waiting to die for over a century now, not a lot for those of my race, but for me, it was…it was pure torture from then on in. I hated my life enough already without it being eternal. But no, the arrow did not kill me, nor did the spell cast upon it (though I wish it did). The spell merely put me in a prolonged coma, that only the castor could undo. That only she could undo. That traitorous nigen. It was her fault I was like, this her fault I was thinking these things, her fault my vision and hearing was staring to blur.
In the blur I can still see her climbing up the tree, and I wonder why she is bleeding. I let out a kind of snort of a laugh, knowing that a puny human could not climb a high up as I am in this tree, especially with a gash as large as that on one's shoulder. Pure impudence. My limbs start to go numb and I find I am almost blinded by a white light that is growing darker by the second.
I wait what seams like hours blinded, but with my hearing somehow in tact. Suddenly I feel a soft brush of flesh against my cheek, and a light squeeze of my chest and neck. After a long period of toil on my mind's part, I recognize this as a "hug". mother used to give me hugs all the time. I miss my mother, very much, and loathe the man whose fault it is she is dead.
This hug is not like the ones that mother used to give me. It is filled with regret and anguish, and I want no part of it. I try to move away but notice I cannot. My body is completely frozen, and I am helpless.
The last thing I hear before I black out entirely is the sound of her voice, saying my name. The last thing I heard before floating into oblivion, a dreamless sleep, vast darkness. I wonder how on earth she got up here. The sound of her voice sending me off into that damned limbo, calling my name. "Inuyasha."
When I came to, it was morning. I was freezing cold, and it didn't take me long to realize- I was sick as a dog. My nose was completely numb, my fingers were raw, and the lump in my throat fit right in. I had a piercing headache and stomachache and it felt like jagged pieces of glass were being jammed into and dragged down the insides of my throat with every intake of fresh cold air.
I had no energy to stand, let alone get back to the house, which I needed to do desperately. I had gotten knocked out at the base of the tree and had awoken in a seated position against the large trunk. Like one of the positions you fall asleep in when you are in a train of airplane. I can never pull those off though, not willingly, they take to much out of me.
And it seemed I was right, I could barely move. I knew I had to get back to the house someway though. If I could get back to the house I could call a doctor or something. I couldn't bring myself to get up though, I ached on the inside, and my outside was numb from the cold. Especially my exposed legs, my tiny skirt, though fashionable, was the opposite then ideal for cold weather.
It was kind of like in the early morning, when you get up, you don't get up, you know you have to and if you don't something bad will happen if you don't, your brain just cant fully process the thought and you end up lying there for 20 minutes half-asleep. Of coarse the numbness felt almost warm so I did the same thing, stayed put, hoping that waking up was a dream and hoping I would not have to wake up for several more hours, and when I did, that I would be in my nice warm bed, not under a stupid tree, freezing, and numb. TREE! My brain finnaly realizes what the hell is going on and every thing from last night comes back to me in a rush- the bad thing- the well shrine- the hunger- the blanket I cherished when I was a child of 3. Speaking of which I was hungry too, so hungry my stomach couldn't growl, it could only ache.
It was my hunger that eventually enabled me to rise. I grabbed the broom from the shrine next to the go-shinboku tree and used it as a walking stick, though not a very good one. I ached all over, where ever I happened not to be numb and discolored, I ached.
Finally I made it back to the house. The bad thing was no longer there. I weakly fished the key out of my pocket and unlocked the door.
The horror took a second to work its way into my gut. It took another second to file it in my brain, another to comprehend, another for any spark of realization to dawn on her, and a bunch of other seconds for everything else. So it ended up being a postponed terror. Postponed as the scream was.
-end p.o.v.-
Everything in her house was messed up, there was not a table unturned. There were even windows and walls knocked out. A fire had been started and stopped in the kitchen, half the doors were wrenched of their hinges. And her room was a particular mess. Her family didn't have the money to pay for the repairs they would need for this, and her old grandpa, her soft-spoken mother, her 10-year-old brother, or herself were hardly capable of doing it themselves.
And they would never believe her story of how she had spent the night in the well house and under the go-shinboku tree. She couldn't make up any sort of story because it would have to have some sort of explanation why she was sick to it also. They definitely would never believe any of it. she herself didn't believe any of it.
-start p.o.v.-
It was definitely strange that there was always a path through the whole mess, always a line about 3 feet thick, where ever the mess was, but I can't think about that for long because I have other things to worry about.
But all I can do is call a doctor and get some sort of delivery food. So I pick up the phone (which happens to be pulled out of the wall, but amazingly still working) and dial the phone number off of the emergency list, for a house call doctor, and a pizza delivery.
(a/n): this is definitely different than what I usually do, I usually do romance and comedy sometimes even sob stories-but never a horror type thing. Lol. And I never write in present tense, and hardly ever in 1st person. So how am I doing? Reviews are immensely important to me! Send as many as you can!!!! R&R (no dah) sorry if i am switching p.o.v. s too often but i am sort of toying with it.
I lay dumbfounded against the tree, an arrow with a strange blue-ish hue piercing what would have been my heart. But nothing was there anymore, and if there was something there, it was not needed for my survival. A mere mortal would have died almost instantly from the arrow, I found I wasn't though, another downside to being of what I am. Not to mention that I could not die or be killed.
I had been waiting to die for over a century now, not a lot for those of my race, but for me, it was…it was pure torture from then on in. I hated my life enough already without it being eternal. But no, the arrow did not kill me, nor did the spell cast upon it (though I wish it did). The spell merely put me in a prolonged coma, that only the castor could undo. That only she could undo. That traitorous nigen. It was her fault I was like, this her fault I was thinking these things, her fault my vision and hearing was staring to blur.
In the blur I can still see her climbing up the tree, and I wonder why she is bleeding. I let out a kind of snort of a laugh, knowing that a puny human could not climb a high up as I am in this tree, especially with a gash as large as that on one's shoulder. Pure impudence. My limbs start to go numb and I find I am almost blinded by a white light that is growing darker by the second.
I wait what seams like hours blinded, but with my hearing somehow in tact. Suddenly I feel a soft brush of flesh against my cheek, and a light squeeze of my chest and neck. After a long period of toil on my mind's part, I recognize this as a "hug". mother used to give me hugs all the time. I miss my mother, very much, and loathe the man whose fault it is she is dead.
This hug is not like the ones that mother used to give me. It is filled with regret and anguish, and I want no part of it. I try to move away but notice I cannot. My body is completely frozen, and I am helpless.
The last thing I hear before I black out entirely is the sound of her voice, saying my name. The last thing I heard before floating into oblivion, a dreamless sleep, vast darkness. I wonder how on earth she got up here. The sound of her voice sending me off into that damned limbo, calling my name. "Inuyasha."
When I came to, it was morning. I was freezing cold, and it didn't take me long to realize- I was sick as a dog. My nose was completely numb, my fingers were raw, and the lump in my throat fit right in. I had a piercing headache and stomachache and it felt like jagged pieces of glass were being jammed into and dragged down the insides of my throat with every intake of fresh cold air.
I had no energy to stand, let alone get back to the house, which I needed to do desperately. I had gotten knocked out at the base of the tree and had awoken in a seated position against the large trunk. Like one of the positions you fall asleep in when you are in a train of airplane. I can never pull those off though, not willingly, they take to much out of me.
And it seemed I was right, I could barely move. I knew I had to get back to the house someway though. If I could get back to the house I could call a doctor or something. I couldn't bring myself to get up though, I ached on the inside, and my outside was numb from the cold. Especially my exposed legs, my tiny skirt, though fashionable, was the opposite then ideal for cold weather.
It was kind of like in the early morning, when you get up, you don't get up, you know you have to and if you don't something bad will happen if you don't, your brain just cant fully process the thought and you end up lying there for 20 minutes half-asleep. Of coarse the numbness felt almost warm so I did the same thing, stayed put, hoping that waking up was a dream and hoping I would not have to wake up for several more hours, and when I did, that I would be in my nice warm bed, not under a stupid tree, freezing, and numb. TREE! My brain finnaly realizes what the hell is going on and every thing from last night comes back to me in a rush- the bad thing- the well shrine- the hunger- the blanket I cherished when I was a child of 3. Speaking of which I was hungry too, so hungry my stomach couldn't growl, it could only ache.
It was my hunger that eventually enabled me to rise. I grabbed the broom from the shrine next to the go-shinboku tree and used it as a walking stick, though not a very good one. I ached all over, where ever I happened not to be numb and discolored, I ached.
Finally I made it back to the house. The bad thing was no longer there. I weakly fished the key out of my pocket and unlocked the door.
The horror took a second to work its way into my gut. It took another second to file it in my brain, another to comprehend, another for any spark of realization to dawn on her, and a bunch of other seconds for everything else. So it ended up being a postponed terror. Postponed as the scream was.
-end p.o.v.-
Everything in her house was messed up, there was not a table unturned. There were even windows and walls knocked out. A fire had been started and stopped in the kitchen, half the doors were wrenched of their hinges. And her room was a particular mess. Her family didn't have the money to pay for the repairs they would need for this, and her old grandpa, her soft-spoken mother, her 10-year-old brother, or herself were hardly capable of doing it themselves.
And they would never believe her story of how she had spent the night in the well house and under the go-shinboku tree. She couldn't make up any sort of story because it would have to have some sort of explanation why she was sick to it also. They definitely would never believe any of it. she herself didn't believe any of it.
-start p.o.v.-
It was definitely strange that there was always a path through the whole mess, always a line about 3 feet thick, where ever the mess was, but I can't think about that for long because I have other things to worry about.
But all I can do is call a doctor and get some sort of delivery food. So I pick up the phone (which happens to be pulled out of the wall, but amazingly still working) and dial the phone number off of the emergency list, for a house call doctor, and a pizza delivery.
(a/n): this is definitely different than what I usually do, I usually do romance and comedy sometimes even sob stories-but never a horror type thing. Lol. And I never write in present tense, and hardly ever in 1st person. So how am I doing? Reviews are immensely important to me! Send as many as you can!!!! R&R (no dah) sorry if i am switching p.o.v. s too often but i am sort of toying with it.