Title: Mutt without a pack
Author: Fyyrrose
Rating: K+ (to be safe)
Disclaimer: Yup not mine.
Summary: Sometimes being the last one alive isn't for the best…
Song: Dust in the wind by Kansas
Challenge: Allow our media player to select five songs in random order and we had to write a story using a song as "inspiration". This is a complete fic, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!
Notes: If anyone has ever heard the song…then they should know the "tune" that this fic is going to take.
He ground out the butt of his cigarette with the toe of his boot. It had been many years since he came to this place. It seemed as if it was a lifetime ago. For him it was. It was a different time, a different place.
It was a world full of sappy ideals and soaring futures. It was an impossible dream that almost came true. In the end the only thing that was learnt was that dreams and ideals got you killed.
He wasn't one for flowers so he brought none. He wasn't one for long and sappy goodbyes so he said nothing. Everyone was now dead, and the world treated them with disrespect.
They were allowed no graves, not even markers for people to remember them by. Then again, who wants to remember a fallen hero?
They were heroes.
They were proud and they defended their beliefs. They were all dead because of that. But didn't all the great people of this world die because of their ideals? The man took out another cigarette and lit it.
Taking a long deep drag of his stick he remembered all the good times. They were a bunch of fun loving and carefree men. Each had their ideals and morals coming together to make Japan a greater country.
Trying to make the world a better place and failing miserably, to the world that's all they did.
One drop of bad blood was all it took to destroy everything. Now he was a dog, no better than those he fought against. There was no turning back now. He was what he was. He was the only one left to remember how things were, how things were supposed to be and he couldn't do a thing. After all, dogs have no power.
Now there were children trying to run the nation. They were trying to force their ideals upon a wandering society. With no hope, people flock to them. They run blindly to the Shepard. These lost sheep run towards their own death with open arms.
It sickened him.
He would have liked to see what would have happened had they succeeded. But that dream was left for when he was sleeping for that's all it was a dream. A hopeless dream. He exhaled and a whiff of smoke rose to the sky. He crouched down and laid a hand on the faded marker on the old tree.
It was his personal gravestone for the men who could never have one. He wished they were all at peace. That was the only thing he could do for them now.
All that was left now was silence. Where there was once festive and loud bantering, there is now silence. Where there were bright and cheerful smiles, there is nothing but ghosts. The waft of food could be smelt all throughout, but now there was a stale stench of incense.
Being the last one alive was hard. Some days he wished that he was killed along with them, and others he was glad that they were dead. That way they don't know that their actions had no value. Their lives were worthless. He was worthless too, the only difference was they were dead and could enjoy their peace.
Feeling sentimental, he placed his hand upon the cool bark of the tree. This was their gravestones. This was the only thing that showed to people that they existed, that they were something.
There were no names on the tree; there were only lines and dashes on the old bark. He fingered the handmade gashes and lightly snorted. It could have been worse. There was always worse.
They could have lived in a time when people were hung to a cross. They were not about religion, yet had they lived now they would have been strung up by a foreign cross and made an example of.
It wasn't like they weren't before, but now they would have been ridiculed and their dead bodies would have been humiliated. Actually, it might have been better. That way they still would be remembered. Not for their ideals but because they died for a foreigner's greater good.
They were loyal dogs obeying their master and got punished because of it. Would it have been better if they hadn't existed? Sure, but then what would have become of this society? He shuddered at the thought. He stomped on the butt and grounded it into the ground.
They were men. Good men. Men he would trust his life with, and did. Now he was placed with boys that would rather stab him in the back and rob him blind. In this world no one could be trusted. It was sad. Nothing lasts forever, and that was a hard reality.
People die. People betray. People forget.
People are forced to move on. Such is the way of life.
No one takes the time to stop and give thanks to all the people that died for them. They were trying to create a better world…be it good or bad; they thought they were doing better for those around them. Instead of thanks, all they do now is sneer and jest at the dead. It was sickening.
The only things that ever remain as it were are the earth and sky. Everything else turns to ash and dust. Good times were long gone and now the only thing to look forward to was death.
The thought saddened him. Still in the prime of life, he knew that death would be a long way off. People die everyday and yet the sun still rises in the sky every morning. It never stops to mourn, it never stops shining hope on a lost generation.
"Sir, we must leave now."
He turned to see a bright and shining face waiting for him at the carriage. He turned back and closed his eyes. He knew that the next time he would return to this place would be when he died and joined his friends. That's what they were. They were his friends and family. They were an odd bunch, but they meant the world to him.
When he opened his eyes he could see all of them standing before him smiling and laughing carelessly.
It seemed so real, he almost forgot they were dead. His smile almost returned to his hardened features. He almost called out to them. He thought it was almost too good to be true.
A gust of wind picked up and the image before his shattered and blew away like dust in the wind.
AN: hope it's sappy enough…I'm happy with the way it turned out...and that's all that matters ;) Hate it? Love it? Let me know what you think!
Beta:sniffle: that was so good… now which category are you putting it under?