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 Posted: Fri Mar 12, 2010 8:44 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 12, 2010 8:45 pm
 
Fragile and Precious Things Need Special Handling
(Nightmare #1)
Words: 1,066
If there was one thing he hated, it was nightmares. It wasn’t that there was anyone out there that liked them, he was sure it was natural to hate them, but he usually was troubled for the rest of the day because of it instead of just moving on. While some people thought it was just the mind processing what you saw that day, Ladon put more into it. How many stories had he read where a dream spoke to a person to warn them about a disaster or given them some insight? Too many, and he never liked nightmares because it felt like something bad would happen. A few nightmares came from watching Tate’s zombie games and horror movies, and he spent a while with a curtain rod under his bed to fend himself incase the world turned undead while he slept. He would have liked zombies now instead of the dreams he was having recently.
It started out in a crowd in the middle of a busy sidewalk, with shimmering stars above. It had to be night, and he looked down to see himself in his Lieutenant uniform. He could feel fabric brush past him, but every time he looked around, he didn’t see anything. Then a dog barked, and Ladon looked down to see a blue Labrador puppy. It ran around him, barking up at the sky. Looking closely, he saw it had glass eyes and large stitching on his head and down it’s side. As it opened it’s mouth, a fabric tongue came out. It kept barking at the stars.
Looking back up, he noticed the stars move around, and soon shapes started to appear. Around him people started to form, brushing past him, jostling him, shoving him around, and the stars weren’t stars but starseeds hovering in the center of their opening, gapping black chests. A little ribbon dangled to hold the starseeds in place, and none of the people noticed him or the starseeds as they brushed past, shoving, uncaring as they rushed about. They closed in, and he found it hard to breathe. They were tall, towering above, and they kept pressing in on him. They were tall like trees, and they muttered and murmured, making conversations that he couldn’t pick out to hear. Just a chorus of noise.
As he tried to push past, the blue dog continued to bark at him, and then turned about, it’s tail tucking in as it looked around, stepping back. It whimpered, and Ladon looked back down to see between the small gaps that the jostling people made in their rush to go somewhere. As people moved, he noticed dark shapes. Quick, flashing shadows, and he heard them growl.
A loud yelp made Ladon turn, and he saw the small dog was being trampled by the jostling people. They didn’t care. The dog was small, in the way, and they continued to stomp, talking, move on, and the dogs feet were stepped on, then it’s neck, and as it was crushed, it’s seams ripped and blood-stained cotton ripped out of it’s body, spilling out and then kicked around by the shuffling feet.
In desperation to save the dog, a dog he found familiar and for some reason knew belonged to him, he reached high up. His hand seemed to stretch miles above before it wrapped around a starseed, and pulling the ribbon free, took the starseed. Someone screamed, and then the body dropped. The clothes flopped down and the person vanished. Suddenly the entire crowd stopped, vanished, and piles of clothes dropped down. The forest of people vanished, and all around him the sound of cloth hitting the ground surrounded him. Then the stars above, seeming to dangle to nothing, fell down onto the piles of clothes. Hundreds of falling little stars flopped on the piles of clothes from their owners.
And then he saw the shadows. Monstrous youma who were stalking about, growling on all fours. Silver dogs with hair that were needles and looking about with rolling, glass eyes. They had thimbles for paws, making them walk with stumps. No sooner had the stars dropped, the youma dived in, shoving clothes aside and rooting in shirts and skirts for the starseeds, gobbling them up. The youma ignored him, brushing past, and continued to gorge themselves. Every time one of them bite into the shimmering cyrstal, gushing blood spilled out, making their muzzles drip red.
He looked back down, and saw the little dog was only half-alive, and he went over to it. When he reached over, he saw the starseed was still there. In an instant, one of the wolves bite down on two fingers, and then another took his other 3 fingers, and then another bit his wrist. All three youma yanked and tugged, pulling on his arm, until he saw that his arm was splitting in half. Stitching made of skin started to pull apart, and his arm started to drop large puffs of cotton out. Mounds and mounds of cotton. Enough that it didn’t seem possible his arm had that much, and then a large rip came as the dogs tore his arm off.
It hurt, and he dropped down to his knees, holding his open wound. Instead of blood, he felt plush cotton filling, but it still hurt. Kneeling before the blue puppy, he looked down to see that it was still panting even though it was torn in half and cotton was spilling out. Then he noticed each puff of cotton pulsed with a heartbeat. Fast. Quick. Racing.
Louder. Louder.
He took his only hand and covered one ear, looking out across the horizon to see piles and piles of clothes, and thousands of youma eating the fallen stars that glittered on the ground. It grew dark, and one by one, the little stars were beating eaten. It got darker. And Darker, and the sound of the heartbeat grew louder and louder.
Ladon woke up in bed, panting hard. It was late at night and dark in his room. He had to catch up to reality before he noticed he was in his own bed at home. He looked around and noticed the familiar décor. The worn stuffed animals that sat on shelves here and there and then looked over to his side where Elliot, a blue, stuffed, dog, laid motionless by his side. Reaching over, he held up the dog and inspected it for damage. It was fine. He was fine.
He breathed out, and set the dog on his chest, holding it tightly.
Okay, maybe not entirely fine.
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Posted: Sat Mar 13, 2010 9:50 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 14, 2010 5:07 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 14, 2010 7:23 pm
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Posted: Thu Mar 18, 2010 10:48 am
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Posted: Sat Mar 20, 2010 10:35 am
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Posted: Sun Mar 21, 2010 10:47 pm
Thank you.
It had been days since he went to Tate’s house, and he was dressed the same way since the last time he left. Wolframite knew he was risking a lot, had risked a lot, by coming here. There was too much on his mind now to really figure it all out, but he had a few days of recovery in bed to let him cycle through his mind.
He hadn’t been able to see Tate, and had called to school sick. It was easy to convince his mother when you looked pale and rarely took a day off, and he texted Tate to tell her not to wait up for him for anime club, saying that he was to go see a relative for a few days. If he told her he was sick, she might make connections. He was already skating on thin ice with his identity, and this early in the game, he didn’t want to be the only lieutenant ever exposed for who he really was. Laying in bed, he had thought of how long it might take for Tate to suspect him of being a Negaverser, and he was actually at the point of considering contacts to change his eye color when he remembered that his appearance was protected. Tate would have a hard time figuring out who he was while in uniform, but it still worried him. At any point, he felt she would pick up on some little mannerism or tone in his voice that would give him away. Her eyes seemed to take in everything, and her quick mind connected clues like a prime time detective. It was both amazing and terrifying.
Yet, even when she didn’t know him, she had cared. He would wake up in bed, thinking, staring up at the ceiling before raising his hand up and trying to remember how squeezing her hand felt, the little brush of her fingertips over his brow, and then the soft earlobe that glanced his fingers when he pulled her hair back. Then there was the song. He couldn’t even remember most of the lyrics, but he remembered the tone, the little melody he could hum, and tried his best to recreate that feeling on his own. The thing was, he couldn’t. The most important element wasn’t present.
With a soft sigh, he started to feel angry and bitter. Wolframite had shared an intimate moment with Tate that Ladon never had. While there was a treasured friendship he would never give up, he knew it was a friendship. Wolframite had something, and even though he knew Tate had an boyfriend, he entertained the idea that Wolframite did not. It was a thought that was bothering him more and more. That he knew what he was doing, and yet didn’t fully know why. When had he started feeling this way about her, and was it all in his head. Then there was the fact that while he could fantasize, Wolframite was still a Negaverse agent, and involving Tate in any way with him would put her in danger.
This didn’t seem to matter to him, and here he was, days later, sitting in a nearby tree by her house. There was a faint light in her room, and he felt his heart drum to know she was awake. That he could be spotted. Found out. Exposed.
Deep breathes.
With clammy hands, he looked around. Ever since talking to Libra, he had been staking out the place before arriving, expecting to meet the Zodiac. The same familiarly Tate felt with him, she also felt in the senshi, and he was left theorizing and worrying over the matter for hours on end. He didn’t dare come until he was sure he could at least stand without feeling light-headed, but he was in no condition to start snooping around for where Libra might be. He worried she would start closing in, guarding Tate from him, and he knew he would be doing just the same to keep her away. As of right now, he just needed to heal, but even more, he had one thing to do.
It was a necessity.
Checking the darkened streets up and down, he moved down the branch and gentle leaped onto Tate’s roof. Even a small hop pulled on his stitches, and he held his side, hissing as he tried to keep his grip. Careful that he didn’t crush them, he gentled carried the gift in his hand and moved to the dimly lit window. “Tate.” He whispered, as if willing her to come out.
Easing down, he placed his foot on her windowsill. Inside, he could see a small light and the familiar shade of Tate’s hair as she sat on her couch, reading. While he could spend hours sitting here, he had to leave. With that in mind, he placed his gift on the windowsill and tapped on the glass.
Quickly as his injury would let him, he moved up to the roof, away from her line of sight, and sat there, holding his chest and side as he caught his breath. For a while, he just stayed there as his heart hammered, straining to hear her open the window to be sure she heard. When he heard the window open, he exhaled a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding.
It wasn’t much, but he still wanted to convey his thanks. Hoping his message came across, he slid down the other side of the roof and headed back home, feeling he could rest just a bit easier now.
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Posted: Tue Mar 23, 2010 1:25 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 24, 2010 1:14 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 24, 2010 1:35 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 26, 2010 11:37 pm
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Posted: Tue Mar 30, 2010 6:54 pm
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Posted: Tue Mar 30, 2010 9:50 pm
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Posted: Thu Apr 01, 2010 7:52 pm
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