Enjoy!
July 7, 20X4
From the moment it arose on this cursed day, casting away the midnight moon's glow and the night's calm breeze, the sun held itself above the clouds, scorning the earth from its astral throne as its harsh light scorched everything it touched. Plains of sunburnt grass were beaten every which way by the powerful gusts of hot wind that rarely accompanied the morning; it would only ever come to frustrate and annoy the couples or families on their forenoon walk, or the ever-stressed and fatigued construction workers forced to labor as pure heat hit them in every direction. Kids excited to play with their friends—human or Pokemon—would begrudgingly turn back to the boredom that was their homes once they realized heat-stroke was only a few minutes of passion away.
Such harsh rays sprayed over the humble Danor household, anything in its path taking on a slightly whiter hue. The homely green house stood alone atop a hill in the meadow of a well-trimmed meadow, many animals roaming through the trees that surrounded most of the land, acting as a natural property line. They took great comfort in the cool shade provided by the sky-reaching trees and stayed as far as they could from the cruel sunlight.
Castel gladly stayed outside though, letting the heat of the light and wind overtake his body. If he fell to heatstroke, maybe the image in his mind would finally take the hint and leave him alone.
2: Silly, Stupid Nightmare
Today was the day his brother died, and it was a Wednesday that day three years ago, too. Castel didn't know how he had forgotten for even a moment. He had gone through it twice before, both during the day itself and the one year anniversary. Both times his heart ached, and the reality it reminded him of surfaced unimpeded. Castel couldn't count how many hours he cried over the days since that first 7th of July, and even now that cursed image stayed in his head, plaguing his brain like a tumor in its latter stages. Somehow still, he had managed to forget. For two months he paid no mind to the hole in his life formed by what happened on this day. That was not to say that Castel completely forgot, and if he knew a better alternative he wouldn't even use that word to describe it, but for those 61 days, his brother's death went from a raging blaze that overtook everything it touched to a calm fire that slowly imparted its flavors onto anything set over it.
It was the fuel, but never the focus.
It was why he was so dead-set on revenge, but at no point during his actions in the bathroom did it ever reach the forefront of his mind. Why did he have to die? Who were they to decide he deserved to lose his life? Why was he denied the rest of his years, while someone like Adaline got to continue tormenting others for no damn reason? It was thoughts like those that led him to what he did. If his brother deserved it, then they deserved it so much more than he did; if he didn't deserve it, they deserved it still for their unfair cruelty, taking a life that did not deserve to be taken; and if they deserved it, so did she, because she was just like them.
Life is precious. That was the last thing the doubtful part of his mind said back then in the forest, and for once, Castel completely agreed. The only ones who deserved to die were those who committed terrible actions unwarranted, those who caused suffering for nothing other than sadistic pleasure. Those who beat down the legless and stole from the poor, who ate the food of the starving and dirtied the waters of the thirsting. They deserved to die, to be beaten bloody—one strike or jab for every wrong thing they did, everyone they hurt. His brother didn't deserve it, and if Castel could see him now, he knew he would say that he didn't deserve it either. He would be disappointed in many of the things he had thought, and some of the actions he had done, but he would never say he deserved to die. Never.
She deserved it, not him. They deserved it, not him. He would continue to believe so, no matter how many objecting thoughts would run through his head telling him otherwise.
Violence. That's what Castel hated. Brutal, unnecessary violence.
That's rich coming from you.
Great. Another problem, like the universe decided the day wasn't bad enough. What part of unnecessary are you failing to understand? She was the one who started everything.
Who said I was talking about Adaline? There's no way you could've forgotten, because I remember, and we share the same brain.
Castel had one hell of a guilty conscience, apparently. It seemed that a part of him regretted the bathroom incident so much that it had gone mad trying to convince the rest of the brain that he was in the wrong.
You don't shut up about who deserves this or who deserves that, but if you really looked back, you'd see you're far from a saint. More like a demon filled with hate.
Castel just decided the best course of action was to ignore the voices. They didn't do anything to get rid of the image in his head, and he didn't want more problems on top of that. He had gone outside to cool off his head—that's what he told his parents, in any case—but of course, considering his last stunt, they didn't leave him unsupervised. At the door of the house, just a few yards away, was his father, checking on him every minute—or otherwise at any distinct sound—to make sure he didn't try to escape again. Castel didn't know this before, considering what he planned to let happen when he first got out of the house. It was only when he heard his father yell into the house for a cup of orange juice that he was made aware of his presence.
It's only during this moment as well that his father decides to speak. He takes a nice gulp of his juice and stares into his son's eyes for a time. When he finishes downing it all, he finally makes some words. "Son, come here. Talk to your dad."
The boy listened to his father, getting up from the field and wiping the loose blades of grass off his shorts and bare legs before jogging to inside of the house and to where his father was. After adjusting to the arctic he had ran into, he took a seat across from his father. The older man smiled, pulling out a chair next to him and patting it. Castel groaned inwardly; he knew his father well enough to understand this play. He should have known, considering what day it was, but with Matthew Danor, close-proximity meant a long, uncomfortable, and emotionally vulnerable chat. It was reserved for two things—sweet talking his wife, and comforting his kids.
His kid. Singular.
Castel had nothing to say, as he already had an idea for how the conversation would go. His father would probably review the events of the previous days, or in this case his little…incident, before going on about the importance of a family bond, and how to cope with loss. It wasn't that Castel disagreed with his father. His father was a smart man, sometimes too intelligent for his own good. He knew what he was talking about in even the most niche topics. So, no, it wasn't that Castel didn't trust in the words of the man next to him. He knew that if he kept going strong, and didn't let his emotions get the best of him, he would eventually heal, and though he might never be the same, a new normal could be realized.
It wasn't that he didn't believe in that new normal, no. But every day he woke up and didn't hear his brother snoring, and every day he went to sleep without ever having saw his brother's face, he would want that normal to be realized faster. He wanted to come to terms with it now! He knew it would work if given time. Castel only questioned if he had the time to give.
So he tuned it all out, giving mostly non-committal responses after each of his dad's words, changing his posture to feign anything from lack of comfort and detachment to focused listening. Sometimes his nods would be full, happy or sad, and his affirmations, verbal or otherwise, would have more oomph, but he never gave more than three word answers. For about half an hour, this is what Castel did.
"You know…your mom was really hot in high-school, right?"
"Yeah…?" Castel turned to his father from his most recent bout of feigned stubbornness, only to see a grinning man.
Smiling as if he had finally gotten someone to fall into his trap, the father grabbed Castel's shoulder. "Glad to see you're finally paying attention, old boy! Now, now, before I lose you! Family is important! Love! Bonds! Support! It's okay to be sad, but it's not okay to stay sad! There is no joy without sadness!"
Castel giggled, a fake one. His dad was smart, but there were things even he didn't understand. These were all things Castel knew already, and they wouldn't work any faster if he prefaced them with a tale of how attractive his mother was. Family was important, but one of them wasn't here! Love is amazing, but what do you do when someone you love is taken away?! Nothing is better than true bond, but he didn't have anyone he shared a bond with anymore. He lost all of his friends after what Adaline did to him, and while he loved his parents, it wasn't the same. He appreciated them in different ways, but neither of them could compare to his beloved little brother.
He and his brother were best of friends. They did everything together. They played video games for hours until one would fall asleep, they'd order junk food when their parents weren't home, they play outside in the rain or in the snow or even on a day as hot as today. They were inseparable, like conjoined siblings. Unlike most other siblings, they rarely quarreled.
Are you sure? Someone like you?
...Even still, their bond was strong. They understood each other. They could tell when the other was sad or happy or angry or fearful. If he had lost anyone else—his mom, his dad, his uncles or aunts or cousins or grandparents—he could take it. It would be hard and he would cry everyday but he would take it. Castel knew he would, he knew he could. He couldn't take his brother's death, though.
His killing! His murder! It was too much for him. If he had died of sickness, he would have nothing to direct his anger toward. But there were culprits, and there still are like-minded people who deserve the same fates as those culprits! As long as those people exist, Castel couldn't calm his mind. As long as he could direct his anger towards something, his sadness would be like a God-blessed vat of oil.
Never-ending, ever-flowing. Overflowing.
Castel then felt a hand caressing his head, gently combing over his hair as another pair of arms held him firmly but comfortingly. He then felt a liquid run into his mouth. To be more specific, he tasted the familiar salt. He knew he would cry today, it was inevitable. He hugged whichever body was in front of him, and stayed sobbing for a time. It could have been a minute, or a few minutes, or half an hour. All Castel knew was by the time he had stopped, the sun was still up, and he was in his bed. He felt terribly, terribly terrible, so he drifted off to sleep.
If he had known, he would have wished he could've shut out the whispering voices from his mind before his consciousness left him.
?
Unknown Space
Castel awoke in a place that was not his bed, evidenced by the fact that he was floating within a white fluff. He tried to move his hands through the cloud-like substance, and he did, but he noticed his body moving way slower than it ought to. It felt like he was lagging, a command sent to his limbs only being realized a few seconds later. It was horrible and it felt wrong. He didn't like wherever he was.
The blue-haired boy had yet to realize how he was here. Even though he knew he couldn't have been sent from the comfort of his bed to a cloud, he couldn't make the connection in his brain that he was dreaming, like the latter half of a road disappearing into nothingness. Something wasn't right, and he didn't feel well in any regard, but he could never reach the logical verdict.
Finally, he parted through the clouds, shaking away its remnants from his hands as he tried to see what was beyond the ashen enclosure. It was a room. It was a dark and gloomy room, so steeped in shadows that he could not see a single thing. Anything darker than light itself was completely black, like any and all color had been absorbed. There was no light from anywhere, not the windows or a crack in the door or a lamp. Utter darkness was the only thing that Castel could see. He stopped being scared of the dark a long time ago, but given that he still didn't know where he was or why, he began to squirm in fear.
He attempted to move, and was relieved for a short moment when—through some guide unknown to Castel—he was able to move very familiarly through the space. It was like he had been here a thousand times before, a million even. It soothed his soul and calmed his heart, to know that he wasn't lost in a place he had never known. As soon as then, the boy saw that he could…see! He could see quite well in this room. The darkness was still apparent, and there was no light, but he could see just enough to discern one object from another without much trouble!
He saw many things, but his mind was stuck in the crossroads between unfamiliarity and recognition. When he picked up a small teddy bear from the floor, its fake fur stained and dusty, he had the feeling of nostalgia, but he couldn't quite get to the point that he knew it was his own. Another road that disappeared halfway. These half-feelings were strange to Castel, and he didn't think they would get any less strange no matter how long he stayed here.
He dropped the teddy bear gently onto the floor before turning around; then, he did a double take, as during his turn he saw something in the corner of his eye. At the time, he could recognize wood and glass. Only a few things Castel had seen during his life had both of those materials present at the same time. Chief among them were picture frames. Castel couldn't see the picture on the frame from how far he was from it, but he figured he would once he closed the distance.
He didn't. As a matter of fact, as he got closer, the picture got blurrier. Castel's vision was 20/20, last time he had gotten it checked. Could he have been farsighted all this time? He tried to back up in an attempt to either prove or disprove this idea, but the visibility of the photograph didn't enhance or decrease as he got farther from it. It seemed that advancements toward the photograph caused it to blur, and any subsequent movements in other directions could do nothing to alter it.
The Castel that Castel knew would realize it was useless to try and see the picture and go back to figuring out what was going on, but his mind was so focused on it that he even struggled to turn away for any long period of time. He would look up to see an old dusty fan, and then right back to the photo; he would look down at his feet, completely bare and yet as unaffected by the ground as a covered one, then he'd go back to the photo. It was only when he looked left that he saw a flashlight on a bed. Miraculously, it had batteries, and better yet, when he shined it in the direction of the image, it cleared up!
Castel wanted to shout out "Amazing!", but he couldn't find his voice. It was fine, though! He could finally see the picture! He opened his eyes and directed them to the image. Before his brain could begin to process even the slightest bit of information, many things grabbed him from behind, and pulled him away. The flashlight flung out of his hands from how fast he was taken, and the image was blurry yet again.
He expected to be in a different place. Dragged to another dimension or God-knows-where. He expected to still be in the arms of the slimy black things that grabbed him when he opened his eyes, only to instead see the scenery of the room he was just in. Nothing was out of place, not even the teddy bear. He tried to think something of it, but when he saw the picture, or at least the blurry mess that he knew was a picture, he was captivated again. He looked to his left. No flashlight. Its imprint on the bed sheet was there, and when he lifted the sheet he saw the imprint shift down, as if whatever was supposed to be there was rolling down the cloth. There was no physical flashlight, though. He grabbed at the imprint, and felt his fingers wrap around something. He pressed what felt like a button, but no light came out. It was both there and not, somehow.
"I do not want to…" a voice said. Castel heard it coming from himself, but he knew he didn't speak. He would've felt his lips move, or something. So he looked around the room, and sure enough, he saw a being, or a fragment of one, to be more precise. He saw teeth that were so white that they almost glowed within the darkness, and he saw eyes that were the same gold color as his own, but aside from those things and the faint shape of a head, most of its body seemed to blend completely with the darkness.
"Who…am I?" The creature's mouth moved in sync with the words being said, but like last time, it felt like it was coming from Castel's own mouth. More than that, it sounded similar to how one would say "Who are you?", as if the being—or Castel, whoever was truly speaking—was questioning his own existence.
"It doesn't matter. I don't want to see it!" they spoke as one once more. Then Castel found himself gazing upon the blurry photo once more. Despite the surrealistic nature of everything going on, Castel could only truly focus on that picture. As his want to see what was behind the blur grew stronger, the flashlight he may or may not have been holding began to take physical form again. He tried to press the button, but his neck snapped towards the dark being again.
"I can't! Don't I dare look at it!"
This time, Castel ignored it, going right back to the photo.
"Stop it! I'll see something I don't want to see!"
Why did he care what some shadow wanted to see or not? He didn't. Ignoring it again, Castel finally pressed the button. Again, the slimy hands grabbed at him, but this time he resisted them. Easier than he thought they would, the appendages reeled away, and no moving darkness bothered him anymore. The light shown on the picture, and with no interruptions, Castel gazed upon the photo. His eyes widened.
It was of an older boy and a younger boy, the former staring away from the camera with a frustrated look on his face. The smaller boy looked up with a saddened look, but, as far as the pictured revealed, the older one couldn't have cared less. Without any external input, the picture shifted into a new one, one of the same older boy swatting away the younger one, who was holding a sheet of paper and drawing tools. Again the picture shifted, and this time it was of the older boy in a room much like the one Castel was in now. He was on a computer, but from the angle the photo was taken from, a viewer would only be able to see the light of the screen shining into the boy's completely absorbed eyes.
Then, multiple shifts happened at once, all within the same 'scene'. First, the door opened a crack, light entering the room with a suddenness that caused the screen-locked boy to reel in pain once he turned around. Second, a boy came in, the younger boy from the last two photos. In this one, the older boy, having realized who it was, had an annoyed look on his face, shooing him away as he had done in the last 'scene'. Third, the younger boy seemed to have shouted at the boy as tears began to form in his eyes. The older was not perturbed by them, merely yelling back at him and pointing his finger at the door. Finally, when it seemed as though the younger boy was shouting even louder, the older boy punched him. Another couple of shifts happened sequentially, showing punch after punch as the older beat the younger for a good few moments before practically throwing him out of his room.
That was not why Castel's eyes widened, though. Such a display of violence was something he was used to. He had committed something similar not long ago, after all. No, it wasn't what was happening, but who was doing it. Castel recognized the aggressor in the photo. Of course he did; it was a look that he recognized most of all. It was–
A stream of slimy black substance wrapped around Castel's body, surging through his ears and nostrils and mouth. Almost immediately afterwards, it felt like his brain was being pressed on by everything everywhere all at once. If he could get out his voice, he would scream. The only things not blocked by the sludge were his eyes, and the only thing they could see was the shadow with the mouth and eyes. It's mouth was open agape, as if it was screaming.
"Told me! Told me! Told me I'd regret it!" Now the voice finally sounded like it was coming from the mouth of the shadow.
Castel recognized the aggressor in the photo. Of course he did; it was a look that he recognized most of all. It was–
The pressure grew stronger. "Stop! Stop! Told me! Told me! Told me, but I didn't listen!"
Castel recognized the aggressor in the photo. Of course he did; it was a look that he recognized most of all. It was–
Stronger again. "I do not want to! I do not want to! I DO NOT WANT TO!"
Castel recognized the aggressor in the photo. Of course he did; it was a look that he recognized most of all. It was–
"AAAAAAAAAAAH!" His voice finally escaped his lungs. It wasn't from the shadow, it was from Castel himself. At the roar, the sludge stopped surging, dissipating completely after a time. The first thing he noticed when the pressure finally stopped was a pain in his fists. His knuckles were red, as if he had been punching something repeatedly. The next thing he noticed was a golden light streaming in from somewhere. The door to the room was open a crack.
Castel went to the door and looked into the hallway. It was the same one he had seen in the pictures. The last thing he noticed was the sound of sniffling and crying. Castel looked down to see a boy just outside the door. He was crying and crying, getting louder and louder as he continued. He continued crying until Castel spoke, saying, "Uhm…are you okay?" which caused the boy the turn around and stare into Castel's eyes. It was the boy from the photo, the younger one. The only difference was that his cheeks were bruised, his nose was bleeding, his eyes were black, and his pupils lost their color. The boy continued to stare until he said, "I hate you, Cas."
That's when it hit him. Castel finally understood. He was dreaming, but not of fantasy. He was dreaming of the past. Castel recognized the aggressor in the photo. He did, he truly did! Castel recognized the aggressor in the photo! Of course he did; it was a look that he recognized most of all.
It was himself.
"I hate you, Castel! I hate you!"
He heard crying, but it wasn't from the boy. He felt them run down his face, but he heard them from within the room. The eyes of the shadow were crying, and it held its face in its hands as it sobbed. Castel held himself as he began to shiver and heat up at the same time. Then, he fell. Not onto the ground, but into darkness.
"I hate you! I hate you! I don't ever want to see you again!"
July 7, 20X4
Danor Household - 8 PM
It was a nightmare. Nothing would scare him more than his beloved brother hating him, that's why he had that nightmare. It was a nightmare! A nightmare! He loved his brother more than anything! He remembered all the fun they had! What he saw in that…in that nightmare, it just didn't make sense with everything he knew. He would never hit his brother! Never, not ever, no matter how much he annoyed him. As a matter of fact, Castel was almost never annoyed by his brother. Sometimes he would wish he'd start growing up, but he was never annoyed. Not ever, not once. Even if he was, it would never lead to…that. That was for people who deserved it, like that bitch! Not his brother, though. He would never do that to him.
But it seemed so real–
Never! Castel Danor was a logical boy! He attacked those who deserved it! He made sense! He was a good kid who only ever used violence on those who needed to face the consequences of the wrongs they committed! What wrong did his brother commit? Not one! Not one wrong! So Castel, the logical boy that he is, would never attack him! Why would he do that? That's right, he wouldn't! So there! It was a nightmare, that's all it was.
"[Trainer?]"
Castel had almost forgotten about the new Pokemon he had acquired back in the forest. Some point between yesterday and today, he had found out that the golden armor surrounding the paws of his Flamynx were detachable, but in doing so it made the Pokemon incredibly fatigued, so he only did it when it became tired on its own. The feline was currently cuddled up in a ball and on top of Castel's waist, staring up into his sweating face and tired eyes.
"[Are you okay, trainer?]"
"I...I'm okay. I just had a nightmare, is all. Today is a really bad day for me, you see. I'll tell you another time."
"I hate you! I hate you! I never want to see you again!"
Overcome emotionally by the anniversary of the death of his beloved little brother, Castel Danor had a very emotionally charged nightmare, where he imagined the worst possible world. A world where he and his brother weren't best of friends. A world where the older hit the younger. A world where the younger hated the older and spat venom at him.
A non-existent world that only existed in his head. As real as Santa Clause, or a never ending supply of ice-cream. Castel laughed heartily. Maybe he should go to dad for support, lest he dream up that silly, stupid nightmare again, right?
X ? X
"The magic is failing! I...I can't believe my eyes, but the magic is failing!"
"Fret not! It is unexpected, and quite so, but it does conflict with my intentions. He will only seek if to find. I care not for why he seeks."
TO BE CONTINUED
Chapter 2!
Like I said earlier, the next chapter probably will not be out until the week after. Peace!
