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Our first place winner is DizzyDis

And second place winner is AveRose

There were only the two replys so there isn't a third place winner this time.

Congratulations DizzyDis and AveRose

The birth of a child is magnificent, frightening, exhiliarting and exhausting. All hopes and fears the parents possessed prior are shattered and re-molded afterward, into perfection. And yet, being able to witness one's spawn coming into this world is all the more precious and promising.

Julietta smiled at the tiny egg sac that contained her perfection. She could see tiny hands grasping and tiny eyelids fluttering in what might have been a dream. A dream of that great and wide expanse of ocean; so deep and blue. A swelling pride rose in Julietta's chest as she watched that little magnificent creature stretch those little limbs so sweetly. Soon, the mother thought, it can't be much longer now. She had waited so long for this, 3 years in fact. This little one was the answer to everything, to all the questions... To the future.

Julietta's partner, Geralt, came beside her, his own large grin on his lips. The little merchild had grown so much in only a week's time.

"Look at her," he said softly, proudly. They had both worked so hard for this. This little being was wonderful. And they had had so many failures in the past... It still wrenched his heart at the thought. But this time was different. She had grown so well, and so quickly. His eyes wandered to the rocks that surrounded the egg sac. They had made sure the child would have ample room to play and swirl, dive in and out of the small crags and broken shapes in the rocks. It would be her playground. Her nursery, he thought with a small chuckle.

"I know," Julietta answered with a grin. She reached outward, as if to touch what was within. Her partner gently but firmly pulled her hand away.

"We can't," a tinge of sadness was in is voice.

"I know." Julietta gave a soft sigh and wandered off. Soon.

Three weeks passed by, both of them constantly checking in on their little creation. They could see her long tail now more clearly as the sunlight filtered through the clear and pristine water, even through the rocky crevices, curled up so tightly against the merchild's body.

"Oh! Look at the shade of her little tail." Julietta did all but squeal with delight. It was the purest hue of violet she had ever seen, with flecks of silver and a pale blue edging the scales. Geralt eyed the tail of the little one and laughed.

"Lovely. She is truly beautiful." They had made her after all; the girl merchild would be nothing short of perfect.

"Violet. Her name is Violet." Julietta took a breath as she noticed the egg sac becoming more pliable, more thin. Soon, she thought with glee. Soon Violet would be born into this chaotic world.

The small girl shifted continuously in her temporary home. The walls of her egg were becoming tighter around her. Little hands began to push out against the structure. It wasn't quite time yet.

A week later, Julietta came rushing in to see tiny hands grasping and pulling at the egg sag. The mother's eyes watched a small piece seem to melt away in the water. Julietta cried out for her partner. Upon his quick-as-lightning arrival, Violet began to flick her tail harshly against her confining restraints. Bubbles rose violently to the surface of the water as the merchild tore herself free of her egg. She had been born fighting. Julietta grabbed her partner's hand as Violet's attention turned toward the pair of them.

"Oh, my love... Look at you." That swell of pride rose agin in Julietta's chest as she stared at the dark raven hair, so much like her own, floating about Violet's head like a wreath. Geralt couldn't help but stare at his partner. She looked so alive, so happy. All those losses meant nothing now; now that they had what they had sought for so, so long.

With no further hesitation, Julietta withdrew slightly from her partner to reach for the newly born Violet. She watched the tail flick and sway in awe. Violet blinked at the mother, not knowing of the strange sounds their mouths were making. So instead, she reached toward the hand that was offered.

But something stopped her, something hard. Violet furrowed her little eyebrows in what Geralt and Julietta could only guess was confusion. She tried, once more, to reach for the one in front of her, and still found only resistance.

"Geralt, I... I think she knows I'm her mother." Her partner gave a soft sigh as he peered over at Julietta's awestruck face.

"In a way you are, you know. Just like, in a way, I'm her father. Regardless of her actual DNA makeup, we are her caretakers. Have been for 3 years. We created her and have taken care of her ever since. And always will." The small merchild was becoming more frantic. Little fists banged upon the barrier that separated them. Julietta smiled up at the creature they had finally successfully created.

"Don't break the glass, my dear. The air out here would drown you." Julietta then reached within her lab coat and withdrew her sleek recording device.

"Code 132-26. Experiment M-092. April 3rd, 2135, 1:10PM. Codename: Violet has broken free of her egg sac. The gene splice seems to be a great success. Human trials should be next. This is only the beginning."

The beginning of every great hero starts off as nothing more than a child surrounded in darkness of ignorance. Innocence that will soon be destroyed in the light of the new world in which a person shall be faced with. Like every quest it must begin with hardships and pain with a sprinkle of courage. A single courageous act whether intended by the supplier or not will become the shaping tool of the wet clay of their own existence. This single act will forever change the producer’s life and future. By acting out of what is expected the potential hero has opened a thousand doors all while closing their only exist. They will be forever trapped along this path until the day they die a failure or live to be remembered all through time. However, this idea of a hero is completely irrelevant in the setting and story of current events. For in this world there are no heroes, no good, no angels, and no God; only those who pretend to weigh the burden upon their shoulders in order to obtain glory. Although many claim to be saviors if they were truly the hero of this tale they would never say so.

This is the story of a world who fell around the youthful outlook of the innocent forcing the blinding light into the eyes of all onlookers. The story in which I am to portray the events as I look upon the ashes in which the world now lies is not a faint one.

The question may come to the reader’s mind as to whom exactly I am. With that, I am obliged to answer. To put it simply I am an over watcher. It is my duty to watch over the plains of existence recording the details of events in which I find most interesting. I decide the story of all those who lay within my sight. Over my time this has caused great fear over the mortals whom have graciously given me a frightening title in which I’ve come accustomed to hearing. I am who the humans call Death. Although I have little control over the physical death of these begins I have acquired the name no less. As a side comment the way mortals chose to portray me I find insulting. I am actually quite nice and find the black cape and scythe a bit of an over kill. Excuse my pun but I set myself up for that and couldn’t resist.

Anyways. I feel the need to return to my original point. Which was… for the life of me I seem to have lost my place. Excuse me a moment as I search for my spot. The cosmos are not an easy aspect to manage and if I take my gaze off the specific location it’s madding. I should have spaced a pencil mark or something.

Oh look it seems to be you. Mind giving me a wave? I don’t get to communicate with your time very often and it would be a nice gesture.
Ahh it seem as I was watching you I found my location. Here it is. I believe this means that we can get on with the story after all. I may need to explain a bit of information before I introduce you to whom the story centers.

For the time and place in which I am about to reveal to you is not one in which you are used to. The years in the present settings are far from when you exist. Although the events in which led to this world are very present in your mind seeing as it is merely a repeat of history; funny how time seems to do that. To be honest sometimes we observers grow tired and just copy and paste old bits and pieces of history together to avoid writing a new bit. I won’t lie I’m guilty of it as well. I apologize as I seem to have gotten off trace again.

The year is only a few decades ahead of your own time, so luckily you’ll be dead and gone long before these events unfold. And if you were hoping that the secrets of immortality would have been discovered by then well I can already tell you that won’t happen; my apologies.

Now then, within the course of the multiple years prior to when the actual events in which I have chosen to show you a war, (in which I am told you understand the meaning of the title) has erupted on your world. Two great parties in which I will choose to express in the current names of the time, GOOD and EVIL. Odd names aren’t they? But I am not in charge of humans being humans. I might ask you why your specious has just a complex for naming and nicknaming things? Never mind, if I were to receive an answer I would completely abandon my tale for yours.
Before any more delay I shall begin.

Our story begins and ends in the same place as it always does. In the present and yet in the future and past as well. I know this much sound as madness to you but for me I am very contempt with the logic in; which is none. It is only in this thought can I truly understand the reasoning past the human mind. Or any of your land for that matter.

For you see, it is only through this maddening logic that I can comprehend why, in which your specious decided to play with my laws and my job. I truly am aggravated for what they’ve done but I will not take it out on you, do not worry. It was not your descendant who caused this.

However, it still proves point that humans are greedy creatures, then again, I may be bias. I will let you see for yourself if that would better your understanding.

The tale in which I am attempting to explain is that of a young boy. If he can even be considered that anymore. Although at birth he was just as you or I. Young and wishful thinking. He knew one day that he would be needed for a greater purpose. That is what all humans wish for correct? Or at least from my understanding. None the less, he was a child of promise.

Anton awoke with a kick from his older brother. The young youth sat up with a tired and annoyed expression. He was a younger boy, around the age of ten at the oldest with eyes of an icy blue and hair matted, and dirty brown coloring that lay slightly against his light complexion giving him a near sickly appearance although the color in his soft cheeks was enough to disprove that theory. He wore a long sleeve, dark grey night shirt and green PJ bottoms with yellow triangles the size of a common day quarter.

The boy looked over to his older brother with hair of light brown due to their different mothers. The lad was several years older than Anton as it clearly showed in the height difference and newly formed pimples across his brother’s freckled cheeks. According to the younger boy’s quick and sleepless observations the other remained sound asleep.

With a growl Anton stood from the bed that was far too small to share with another. He took one of the multiple blanket from atop his brother walking down the carpeted staircase of his home to the first floor of the two-story building. A man dressed in green matching the two other who lay sound asleep in his own bedroom was in deep asleep on the sofa while another slouched out cold in the recliner.

Perhaps being too young to understand or maybe because he choose not to, Anton couldn’t comprehend why his father and mother had decided to allow these men into their home. To Anton it was nothing but irritating and a burden although he would be heavily punished by his father if he were to ever say so.

Anton continued down to the basement of the home switching on the light to the dark floor of the cold and unfinished room. A small bed, (if you could call it that) rested under the staircase. His mother had warned him that if ever the loud bell began to ring he was to come to this spot and although there was no bell ringing Anton found the desire to sleep too overwhelming to return to the overcrowded bed in which he had been sharing with his brother Ven.

The brunette boy placed his head against the bed and wrapped himself into the blanket in which he had dragged down the several flights of stairs. Quickly his eyes began to close until he was fully wrapped into the fantasy world only a child could comprehend.

There he slept fully unaware of what was happening around him. It’s a funny thing, sleep that is. I hear from many humans claim that if they had to die in any way they would wish to go in their sleep. So peaceful and blissfully unaware of what is happening.

This is the way that Anton wish he had gone. Unfortunately fate seem to have a different plan for him. For it was an hour or so after the attack did young Anton regain consciousness. As a voice rang out he listened in perfect silence unaware of what had happened to him or his village.

Dust covered the boy’s pale face and body as the rubble of his house lay around him. His mind rang with the horrible ring that had taken over the boy’s hearing after the loud explosion in which he had been blissfully unaware of.
So there he lay in the confusion of his own mind that couldn’t make sense of anything with good reason. It wasn’t until he began to cough could he make a full thought. Pain. Anton found himself in pain from his chest in which he had never felt before.

As the child try to speak he only found coughs with a metallic taste to follow.
“Pomogi mne,” he whispered although to him it felt like a scream. As no one answered he continued to cry until tears fell from his eyes in what seemed to be a never ending stream.

Voices called as it seems someone had heard him. Lights shined over where he lay as the boy gave out a light laugh only to trigger a worse cough than before. His lungs felt as if they were at any moment going to deflate from the pressure. Two pairs of hands quickly removed the rumble that rested upon the trapped child.

As they spoke Anton found himself confused and as lost to what they were saying. He repeated his call for help as the men returned the same expression he had given them.

The two men who stood in front of the youth were dressed in green as the other who were guest at his family’s home. He had figured they were different from him but he had hoped they spoke a decent amount of his tongue seeing as he couldn’t speak any of theirs.

The two called over a third into Anton’s slight. The man was older with a bushy mustache that covered much of his tan skin with its grey coloring. His head was free of anything other than wrinkles although he wore green just the same as the others. The man adjusted his glasses speaking to Anton in his native tongue asking if he was alright.

“Mama? Papa? Ven? Gde oni?” The boy questioned with a growing dazed expression as he asked where his family resigned.

The boy’s request was met with silence as the old man rubbed his eyes before bending down close to the boy to whisper what I can loosely translate to, “my boy, there are times in this world where the greater sacrifice must be made in order to survive peacefully. I want to invite you for just that. The world you have come to know is gone but in its place is an opportunity to end all pain as you have just experienced. If you will let us we can stop this from happening again.”

His eyes widened with terror with these words. As if in an instant his mind collected what little information he could wrap his tiny hands around and began to conclude the worse of the situation. He was unsure how to react. He wanted to remain strong like his father had always taught him but he found a river at his eyes. It was there that Anton began to sob uncontrollably. It was there that he was lifted from the rubble with sharp pains bursting from his small chest as cried left his lips not caring who heard. It was there he was taken away from the smoke that was once his town and it was there that the boy became a hero.

But there is no such thing as heroes. Hero is a word that has been created by selfish men and woman to rationalize their actions. On one side of any story the perspective it is being told through contains the hero while if the story was told through the eyes of another that same hero has suddenly become the villain.

In any case Anton has become neither. Merely an experiment in the hope of a new world. A new light. A new way of existence.

I am quite curious to see if you understand yet as to why I find this particular child interesting. Well I’ll give you a hint to why he is particularly in need of my attention. Have you discovered the spark yet? What makes a hero? Well it is clear that he has the pain and tragedy so where is the spark?

It’s interesting to me how humans think. The way they are willing to give up pieces of themselves to better fit in with others of their own kind. Not to mention how quickly your kind will turn on another just for a slight difference that they had failed at hiding deep within themselves. Yet it is frowned upon to lie to others. So interesting indeed. Almost laughable the contradiction but it takes a lot in order to make me laugh.

Anyway side comments over, let’s return to see what young Anton’s life has become. Let’s just skip by some of the more dull parts shall we?
Ahh, sixteen years later from the day that the bomb had dropped upon the small village of his homeland. The young native boy has completely abandoned his old life in the attempt to fit within the crowds of the new. His identity, origin, past, and even name became a lie to among the others with only three truly knowing as to where he had come from. Nod became his new identity among the enemy in which he had learned to call allies.

Seems the elderly man had taken quite a liking to a particular set of skills in which Anton possesses. Luckily for him it seems that there is a place among the crowd in which he could easily blend into as the hero he had become.
Perhaps this would be better explained through his eyes and not mine.
His breath was soft and shallow to best avoid anyone from hearing him. The teen adjusted his weight ever so slightly as he lay against the black mat in which he had laid out on the roof top. Nod, as he came accustomed to being called and with no voice to be able to correct others that’s exactly what he did. The boy would nod to answer any command or question he was given making him a great listener indeed. The best kinds are always the ones who can’t speak back, you know.

He wore a black jacket with a dark fur across the lines of the hood and the bottom of the fabric that was still too large for his figure, but these had been the first article of English clothing he had received on the first night he had appeared, so to him, it didn’t so much matter that it was still too large as long as it was his. Under he wore a black long sleeve t-shirt and baggy, dark green cargo pants in which he tightened to his thin waist with a dark brown belt. It was with these colors he disappeared into the night.

The youth’s eyes stared into the scope of the rifle he had stationed against the ground with one end pressed into his shoulder and the other pressed out of the stone window of the building in which he hid himself from the world.
It was a new brand gun although it was clear it had been used many time. Smooth black metal with an icy cold touch with the only warmth forming against where the boy’s hands has rested.

He adjusted the zoom for a moment searching quickly over his assigned area. A figure caught his attention. He focused the view onto the hidden person. Quickly reading the recommended course of action in which he should take. Nod took a moment to check his watch before looking back over to the shadow that had caught his attention.

Without taking his focus from the target Nod moved the communicator that lay pressed against his jacket up to his lips in which he released a small click sound with his tongue. With this action his eyes refocused onto the shadow listening for his cue.

The communicator rang slightly almost too quiet to hear even though the object rested against his right shoulder, “Alright.”

Nod took his cue pulling back on the trigger to watch the shadow fall against the street below. This is what had become of his life, if you could call it a life at all. Forced to kill his own people while those who order him to do so have no idea and merely assume the lie that others had formulated around his past.

As the sun touched at his feet the youth sat up allowing the blood to rush back into his legs from the hours he had spent on his stomach. With tired eyes Nod repacked his weapon trying to pretend that it was merely just the training toy he had assembled so many times. This was one of the methods the teen had chosen to enlist to help himself cope with the actions in which he must smile through in order to spare his own life. Over the past four years he had become a prisoner to say the least. But he wasn’t treated like those who were actually given the title of prisoner. No, he was a mental captive while the others were only physical.

After placing the last of the weapon into its’ metal casing he stood inside the small room in which he had claimed for the night as the men in green cleared the town for one reason or another. One aspect that hadn’t changed since that day was that Nod couldn’t understand why they fought or why they did any of the things they did. Fighting the soldiers of both sides are fine if that is what the world wants but when it comes to civilians and the innocent Nod couldn’t or rather chose not to understand. Instead he allowed his childish nature to reveal itself.

With the light footsteps, he had so carefully practiced to the point of become habit, he left the room walking down the several flights of stairs to the first level of the church in which he had sinned so many times that night.
A heavy sigh escaped the boy’s lips as he walked out of the building meeting with the other men in green. Silently he listened to their stories of the night and high tales of near death experiences. Nod knew well most of these men were lying of what they saw. In having such a high point of observation he knew well what had happened on the streets of the city that they had taken for their own. Although he didn’t speak up. The men including himself were loaded into several trucks that drove off to the camp that was stationed a few miles out.

‘Let them have their fun,’ his mind told him as he leaned back placing his brown hair that had lengthen over time against the metal. With a swift movement Nod took out the clip that held his bangs from his eyes allowing himself to relax slightly. The boy slumped his shoulders letting out a tired sigh.

With low eyes the male pulled out a small crumpled up piece of paper. A magazine article decorated in a detailed blue drawing lay in the boy’s hands. Several lines formed over the worn paper showing its age in return. The drawing was well made. Nearly as if it was real showing a coral background of a deep ocean. The colors themselves blended together in a peaceful and serene manner causing Anton to feel a sense of relief from the image itself. In the focus point of this art was a large egg with what appeared to be a mermaid curled inside the see through material. Rubbing his thumb against the smooth paper Anton found himself smiling lightly.

In large bold writing the article said ‘Real Life Mermaid Found!’ The font was an attention getter to say the least. Popping out much further than anything in the image. Anton had always found this image so humorous. As a child he had truly believed the article causing him to tear out the page and show it to all who would listen. It had become habit to carry the paper since then. At first he hadn’t be able to read the English words but as time went on Anton discovered just how ridiculous the accusations were however, they were none the less entertaining.

Staring at the photo a bit longer before folding it up and putting it back into his pocket the brunette had enjoyed a moment of what little childhood he had left. From time to time his mind would wander and for an instant he’d too be inside that thin egg. Resting until it was his time to hatch. Waiting until the moment he would truly live up to the words of the old man and his promise.
The promise to be a hero. But all things considered there is no telling if the man within the egg would become a hero or a villain. Just as it was for anyone. This is the issue I have with the word Hero. For I do not know what a hero is. At a point there was indeed some indication of the word to me. I had known slightly what the meaning in the term was however as of lately, and the more I explore over the histories of time I find myself no longer knowing.

Just as the boy in the picture and the one holding the page, hero could be given term to both of them and even I perhaps. However, that is not the case. Or perhaps it is. I will let you decide but before you do choose if the child in which I have shown you is the hero or the villain let me remind you of a detail that I had failed to mention at the beginning. I never mentioned what side his home land was on. For not once have I mentioned if Anton is GOOD or EVIL. So which is it?

The answer is simple enough. I dare you to discover it for yourself. Please do try my little human. For that is my job as a Watcher. To discover these nonsense answers to unrealistic questions. For in this world there are no heroes, no good, no angels, and no God; only those who pretend to weigh the burden upon their shoulders in order to obtain glory. Although many claim to be saviors if they were truly the hero of this tale they would never say so. Will you?