Okay, to tell you the truth, I am very unhappy with this chapter. It is definitely not at the same caliber as my first or second chapters were, and for that I apologize; however, suggestions would be greatly appreciated, as my writing brain has been left somewhere, and I cannot seem to find it, which is quite frustrating. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and apologize, as it does not really contain much excitement, which the next one, hopefully will. I would like to thank everyone who has added me to their favorites list, and also to my reviewers, Ziggy Pasta, imaxgoxgnomgnomxonxya, and chibipinkbunny, much thanks.
When he regained consciousness, all of the noise stopped.
He felt the pain still, now only a dull throb compared to what he'd endured, but horrible nonetheless.
He could hear voices once more, but they were not like those he'd heard in the blackened asylum he'd just climbed out of, they were rising and falling, real, human voices.
He tried to cry out for help, to scream and yell to get someone's attention, but no sound managed to escape his parched lips, the silence that answered him, deafening.
He tried to open his eyes, but bright white lights blinded him, searing through his head like sharpened knives, and he could not. He became frantic, panic consuming him like a hungry
snake, wrapping around him, squeezing him, choking him.
He was disoriented, his mind stumbling and swaying, unbalanced, like a fawn, trying to stand.
He felt as if stuck in a small space, unable to move or think of anything but panic, claustrophobia gripping him like an iron vice. He was unaware of where he was, who he was, and why he
was there.
He suddenly felt something touch his eyelid- yes something was definitely there... It was rubbery, like a balloon- A balloon... He let the thought drift around his head for awhile... What was
a balloon? Why had the thought popped so suddenly into his head? He thought for awhile- letting the word bounce around his head. He vaguely remembered a small golden-haired boy
holding a bright red ball on a string- it was floating, bouncing as the boy jostled it in his tiny fist- Who is that boy? He knew him from somewhere, a dream perhaps- Suddenly, his
consciousness was drenched in bright light as his eyelid was wrenched open. Something bright was being flashed into his eye, waving around until his eyelid was released and he
returned to darkness.
He heard a voice murmur incomprehensible words to someone who must've been standing nearby, and felt something cold run through his arm. He tried to recollect what information had
resurfaced before the disturbance, but whatever memory of dream it had been, was gone, and he was left totally and utterly confused.
He let himself drift, trying to remember...
If only he could remember... We're friends right?
The voice surprised him, bringing him out of his thoughts, which had just then started to come together.
Let's make a promise... okay? He knew these voices... but from where?
If I'm ever in a bind... my hero will come and rescue me... The voices...
I want to experience that, at least once... Promise?
It was a girl's voice... familiar... comforting... Yeah... I promise...Tifa.
His heart skipped a beat- Tifa
It was as if someone had given him an electric shock- and fragments of memory came crashing over him-
Tifa-
Zack-
SOLDIER-
Sephiroth-
Turks-
Let's make a promise okay?
We're friends right?
Cloud Strife- I am Clou-
Promise me?
Come this Spring...I'm leaving Midgar-
All the boys are leaving town...
I want to be like Sephiroth...
Sephiroth...
The Great Sephiroth?
Yeah...
Hey Cloud, you okay?
Your eyes-
I heard they just repaired the mako reactor on Mount Nibel, the monsters-
the eyes of a SOLDIER...
Cloud? CLOUD!
He screamed, and wrenched himself out of his memories, only to find himself unable to move.
He felt gloved hands on him almost immediately, and pricks of ice erupting on his skin. His eyelids became heavy, but he fought, not wanting to succumb the darkness, not wanting to be
consumed in memories, unable to resurface from his past.
The pain in his body screamed, wanting to be released, needing to be in open air, to release its fury on everything around him. He willed himself to stay conscious, to stay fighting.
He refused to go back under, to be pushed under the water without so much as a breath of fresh air.
"NO!" he screamed, feeling the iron bands that held his arms to the table cut into his wrists as he thrashed.
He focused on them, letting all of the pain fuel his muscles, all of the rage pent up inside him release into the bands that held him down.
He heard them creak as he strained, as seemingly hundreds of hands held him down, but that only made him stronger.
His eyes could not take in anything that surrounded him, as he put all energy into his arms.
Finally, the bands gave, and he heard cries of astonishment around him as he sat up.
Pain erupted in his chest and stomach and he balked, overwhelming tiredness consuming him.
Blurred green landscape swiveled all around him, and he realized he was spent. All the energy that he'd had just moments ago left him, and he collapsed, awaiting darkness eating him
whole, the voices of many around him muttering excitedly in incomprehensible tones, and then, silence.
_____________________________________________________________________
A miserable black chocobo bounded through the snow.
Sleet poured on it from the darkened heavens, rendering the ground before him icy and slick.
It pulled on its bit, the sides of its mouth aching as it strained, the weight of the cart pulling it back.
Its crimson eyes were narrowed, targeting the ground before it as it galloped past.
It warked loudly as a sharp flick of a whip sent it galloping even faster towards the mansion, its master's cries urging it on from the seat of the cart of which it pulled.
It drove its head down and lifted its wings, burying its bloodied claws into the mud and snow and putting on a burst of forced speed.
His master had been driving him for hours, running his feet bloody and his neck raw from the leather harness that wore.
The snow and sleet made the voyage even trickier and more miserable when crossing the rivers, as the rocks were jagged and slick, the water unbearably cold. It dared to slow down a
little, its breaths coming in hollow snorts, but for it, he received an extra sharp flick, and carried on.
Finally, after many hours, they arrived at Nibelheim, and his master got off the cart, leading the exhausted Chocobo on foot to an old stable.
He was led inside and unharnessed, put into a small stall carved from rotted wood, and tied up.
His master rifled around inside the cart he had come to despise so deeply during their trip, and threw him some grain, walking out of the stable and towards the looming shape of a
mansion that sat just on the outskirts of the town.
He warked miserably as a steady drip of water began to splash onto his head, and dug into the moldy grain, awaiting his master's return.
Hope you enjoyed, the story will (I hope) make itself more clear in the next chapter, as I know I have made it seem very confusing to readers. Expect another chapter up soon- well, don't hold me to it, but I'll try. I have been inspired to write lately as I just one six hundred dollars in a nation wide writing contest and am quite happy, so hopefully the next chapter will be of higher quality. Thanks for reading,
Lucifer