Billy: Anon, it is time
Anon: Time indeed, hope you got an extra pair of underpants because this is probably either gonna end up good or very poopy pants bad
Billy: And remember, this is a K+ story, so we need NO SWEARING, not even on these Author's Notes
Anon: Right...
Disclaimer: Anon Noir and BillyBombastic do not own the fandoms/movies featured in this fanfiction, they all belong to their respective owners. Please support all official releases
In this tale of Fear,
Of Fate, and Memory
What one knows who they held dear,
Taken by Treachery.
In this tale of Fate,
Of Fear and Memory
What was once settled and laid
To rest, now replaced with unknown Mysteries
In this lost, yet simple tale,
When the Clock turns and twists
Will They succeed, where others failed?
The answer, hidden in a shrouded mist...
Once in a brief, deep slumber, His eyes soon opened slowly.
Only to shoot wide open in shock, he felt it all at once.
The cold. It pierced his skin, he felt the numbing yet piercing pain of the cold around him.
Around him? He gathered the strength to move his head slightly, looking around.
It was dark, but he saw. He was underwater.
It was strange, yet it brought many thoughts. How can he breathe underwater? Can he breathe? How is he still alive?
Is he alive? But one thought rammed his head immediately.
Who is he?
All he knew and remember was a voice, it was small and distant. Calling out to him, or was it calling out to him? He was not sure.
All he knew was there was a voice, and it called out from somewhere.
And he needed to find it, why? He was not sure, but maybe whoever or whatever voice that was, could have the answers. So with what strength he could gather, he moved his arms, then his hands.
He saw that whatever body of water he was under, it was frozen. He touched the layer of ice and, for whatever reason, he felt that while it was thick, it had yet to thicken more.
So with what little strength he had, he tried to punch his way out of the ice.
And the ice began to crack, and it gave him something since waking up.
Hope.
He punched with more force, ignoring the searing pain of the cold water, and the cracks spread even more.
He kept punching at the cracking ice until his fist went through the newly made hole and he felt it.
He felt a wind, a large and wild wind blowing furiously.
He grabbed onto the ice and tore his cold prison piece by piece. Once the hole was big enough, he willed his legs to move despite the cold.
And he swam up.
GASP!
By instinct, he took in a large breath of fresh, but chilly air but found that he could only cough out the water that was in his lungs.
He looked around, but he could barely see anything. For that wind he felt came from this blinding blizzard.
At a fair distance, he saw something. He swam near a hardened part of the frozen water and pushed himself up, rolling onto the chilled surface as he continued to cough out any excess water in him.
As he laid there, he could not see the night sky. He could not even see the moon, for it was shrouded by the clouds and this wretched snowstorm.
He slowly got up, slipping occasionally but he eventually found his balance and started to walk slowly, enduring the agonizing pain from his bare feet on the surface of the ice.
He clutched his sides, the wind howling in his ears and biting at the surface of his face, his clothes underneath what he saw as his cloak were damp from the water and clung on to him. How this boy not had frostbite from this, even he does not know.
But once he was near the object, he saw it in more detail. It was a large stick, a shepherd's crook with a G-shaped arch.
He did not know what compelled him to this crook, but he felt that he should pick it up. When he did, he felt a small surge run through his body.
He panted at this strange feeling, and suddenly the cold wasn't too much of a pain to endure, but it still felt very cold.
Suddenly, he felt a push by something. He looked around but saw no one and nothing. Then another push, and he knew.
Had a part of the wind decided to be on his side? He thought humorlessly, before he walked to where this strange wind pushed him, using his staff for support. Once he was out of the frozen water, his feet touched the snow-filled ground.
He looked down and was astonished at the sight of the snow beneath his feet melting, was he that warm? Perhaps staff he's holding, along with that surge he felt had something to do with it?
Regardless, he looked back and saw that he was under a frozen pond, evident by the surrounding trees.
He felt the push from the wind again, and walked once more.
The boy arrived at a small village. He saw that some of the houses had lit windows, probably lanterns or fireplaces to keep whoever was inside warm.
Maybe he could ask for help?
"...Hello?" He called out, his voice hoarse and weak as no one responded.
"Hello?!" The boy cleared his throat and called out and again, no response.
He approached one house and looked through the window, immediately seeing his reflection and a better look at himself.
His eyes were of striking blue, but his hair was a graying brown which confused him and brought more questions in his mind. How long had he been under that pond? He looked young, yet his hair resembled an aging man's.
He saw that he wore a white undershirt with a brown vest and brown trousers, with a brown hooded poncho covering him from the blizzard. The boy then tapped on the window using the tip of his staff, trying to get the attention of whoever was inside. Only for ice to shoot from the staff and onto the glass, making wild patterns on the window.
He stepped back in shock and looked at the staff in awe and equal parts horror at what he had witnessed, he looked back at the window he somehow nearly froze and was saddened that whoever was inside didn't hear him.
The boy sighed and moved on to the next house, unaware of a child inside the house looking at the window in child-like wonder.
The boy with the staff then approached another house and tried knocking on the door, only for a woman to open it. For a moment, the boy was elated that someone finally would let him in only for the woman to suddenly look around, as if she didn't notice the boy.
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tried calling out to the woman, but she didn't hear him.
Then he tried holding out his hand towards the woman's, only to reel back in shock when the woman's hand went through him.
As the door closed on him, he once again stared at his shaking hand in horror and even more confusion than before. What was that? Why did that happen? How did that happen?
It was only when the sound of thunder striking at a distance that he was brought back to his senses, he shook his head as he gave the door a final, forlorn look before proceeding to another house.
"This isn't working!" The boy told himself frustratingly as he was once again ignored. He tried knocking on doors, but for every door he knocked on, he was either ignored or his hand went through for some unexplainable reason. He tried tapping on the windows, but for every window he tapped, frost would simply shoot out from his staff and spread on the glass, which did not make his situation any better, he even tried using merely his fingers but the same thing happened, frost shot out from the moment his fingertip touched the glass, which shocked him to no end.
Something in him just wanted to just barge through, but he knew he couldn't do it, he was better than that. At least, that's what he believed himself to be, whoever he is.
The boy sighed in exasperation, that question again. Just who was he? He tried remembering, but all he could remember was a voice, just a voice calling out to him, but even he's not sure if said voice was calling out to him.
He looked at the snowstorm around him, seeing that it won't let up any time soon. He then felt that push from the wind again, it was strange how this wind was the only one who noticed or even see him, but he guessed that he might as well take what he can get.
He followed the direction of where the wind pushed him towards and arrived at a small makeshift cabin. It was worn down but the boy thought it could suffice, he didn't feel tired, in fact he didn't feel anything, no hunger or thirst.
He chuckled humorlessly at the thought that he might as well be dead but a part of him considered it. Shaking his head of the morbid thought, he decided to stay in the cabin for a while until the blizzard would slowly let up, whenever that may happen.
The boy once more stared at his hand, wondering again of his strange powers. His eyes then fell on the staff he picked up, and he became curious and wanted to try something.
But before he could explore his curiosity, he felt his eyes grew heavy and before he succumbed to into a deep sleep, he saw a glimpse of what seemed to be... golden sand?
Billy: And scene
Anon: For a first chapter, it was somewhat decent
Billy: Well, for you. Not sure how I would critique it without being subjective, but we'll leave it to the readers and their opinion on it
Anon: Indeed. So how's the first chapter of Fate, Fear and Memory? I know, it's a half-working title for a Fanfiction that spans about 4 (Maybe more?) movies/fandoms but we'll consider finding a better alternative title. Anyways, as always be sure to Read and Review
Billy: FAVORITE AND FOLLOW
Anon: Stay Cool and Anonymous
Billy: AND STAY BOMBASTIC!