The Forgotten Pantheon: Prologue
Title: The Forgotten Pantheon: Prologue
Author: Jeannie
kerori63
Genre: chaptered (??) fantasy, romance, angst, action, AU, etc.
Pairing(s): Secret for now, DBSK/SUJU/other SM crossover (eventually)
Rating: PG-13 (for now, though if I can convince my friends to add some smut for me it may get R/NC-17 later)
Disclaimer: The plot and diction belong to me; the characters do not.
Summary: Why couldn't our boys really be gods?
A/N: I'll write a better summary with the first or second chapter, but I don't want to spoil anything just yet...gotta leave some mystery. ;D This is epic fail...I apologize in advance. >.< I've been playing with this idea for a while now, and I've gotten enough of a plot written out to go ahead and start posting this. COMMENTS AND CRITICISM ARE LOVED!! Even harsh words, which are probably all this deserves, heh. ^-^;;
Prologue
For as long as he could remember, Shim Changmin had been sick. His first memory saw him hunched over on a playground, lying on sharp little rocks with scrapes covering his body and screaming for his mother. His parents told him the full story later: that his father had pushed him down a covered slide, that somehow he had ended up flying head first out of the slide and that he had stopped by skidding on the gravel instead of landing safely in his mother’s embrace. Changmin always saw a flash of guilt in his parents’ eyes when they recounted this story, but he never blamed them for his first attack; all he could remember was the laughter that filled his ears and the blurred faces of the other children who had found glee and hilarity in his graceless fall. When the laughter had reached its pitch, he remembered starting to convulse and finally, blessedly losing consciousness.
His next memory took place about 5 hours later, when his mother’s grief-filled voice calling his name brought him back to consciousness and reality. He tried to reach out to his mother, but found his body bound to a bed by thick leather straps that retrained his limbs. He was in a hospital, and he had just survived his first seizure; one of an uncountable number that he would have to face in his lifetime. Of course, the mind of a 4 year old can only understand so much, and all Changmin really remembers of his first emergency room visit are those restraints that kept him away from the comfort of his mother’s embrace.
The rest of his early memories are mostly fragments of the same: hospital rooms, thick leather bands, and sobbing relatives. The doctors could never diagnose the cause of these seizures; he never had a problem with flashing lights and didn’t have any other signs of epilepsy. They told his parents that he had a frail constitution and that his body was just too weak to handle the daily stresses that he put on it; he wouldn’t live beyond age 8, they said. When his mother pleaded for an answer, for some kind of treatment to prolong his life, the specialists only shook their heads sadly and told her that the best thing she could do for her boy was treat him like every other child his age and pray for the best. She took the doctors’ words to heart, and the next day enrolled Changmin in school after spending the morning at Catholic Mass. She went to church every morning from then on, praying to God and saints and any celestial being she had and hadn’t heard of to keep her son alive just one more day. And until Changmin started working towards prolonging his own life, these prayers were all that kept him alive; that, and the thoughts of four others who had spent the last 400 years searching for him.
* * * * * * * * * *
With each successive year, Shim Changmin had fewer and fewer attacks. His parents hoped that he was growing out of them as his body grew stronger; his doctors certainly weren’t discouraging the idea. Changmin, however, often thought that increasing age wasn’t the reason for his increase in health. He had noticed, from the first sticker that his teacher had given him for counting to 10, that praise, recognition, and personal success not only made him feel emotionally content but also benefited his physical state as well. While his mind never openly entertained or accepted this idea, he still subconsciously strove to be the best in everything he did while secretly hoping that one day he might never get sick again.
He was campaigning to be Student Government President of his 9th grade class when it happened. He and his campaign associates had set up tables in the garden beside the high school and were handing out free slices of pizza with fliers to students. The fliers had a picture of Changmin in the dead center, with the slogan, “The Story Has Just Begun! Vote Shim Changmin for President and Break Up the Shell You Hide In!” Changmin had hated the slogan at first, but the cheesiness of it had gone well with the cheesiness of the pizza, and everyone seemed to expect corny phrases from the candidates so he let it slide. After all, he seemed to have more of a following than the other students he was running against - though the karaoke machine a group of girls were currently singing along to might have something to do with it. Smiling inwardly at his success, he was shaking hands and introducing himself to his classmates when the song - thankfully - ended and the girls reluctantly stepped away to make room for the next participant. Before the 3 boys could take over, however, someone started chanting “Changmin! Changmin!” In less than 30 seconds, all of the students in the garden had taken up the mantra and were pushing him towards the stage. Changmin had sung before, of course; he was in the church children’s choir when he was 6, until he had an attack after a Christmas performance of “Santa Clause Is Coming to Town” - he had tripped while exiting the stage and rolled down three whole steps before managing to catch himself; his cheeks still flushed scarlet when he remembered how the other kids in the choir had laughed when he finally returned back stage, and kept pretending to trip like he had. He had never thought much of his singing voice, though, and he felt this couldn’t end in anything but disaster. However, Changmin had never been able to turn down anyone, and their chanting emboldened him and gave him so much confidence that he strutted up to the microphone like he owned the stage. So certain was he in his previously untested singing ability that he even chose an English song, hoping to impress his peers even more. Please, Changmin thought to himself silently, please don’t mess this up.
As the opening notes of “When I First Kissed You” echoed across the yard, he found that he was strangely calm; calmer than he had ever been before a crowd. As the lyrics flowed from his lips, his entire being became a part of the song. He felt himself weaving in and out with the melody, gliding over the waves of music before tumbling smoothly back to reality as the song crested in a beautiful crescendo and came to a velvety, sultry close. When the final beat had reverberated around the garden, Changmin realized that his eyes were closed, and that he hadn’t been reading off the karaoke machine at all; his mind had been elsewhere, the music taking him away to a far away place that he knew could only exist in his own imagination and an audience that he swore he had never seen before…except maybe in his dreams. As he opened his eyes and took in the scene of his fellow classmates surrounding him, his nervousness returned full force. Oh no, he thought as his heartbeat quickened. Not again…please don’t laugh - All at once, his thoughts were interrupted by a shout, followed by louder shouts and clapping. Clapping. They were clapping for him. Grinning from ear to ear, Changmin flushed with embarrassment as the crowd began to shout for an encore. He wondered if he had ever felt so good in his life.
-------------------------
Confused?? Yea, me too. 8P There are hints to what will happen later on, but nothing will make much sense, or hint at the title until the next chapter or so. Sorry for the crap-tastic ness, again! Gomen~
Author: Jeannie
kerori63
Genre: chaptered (??) fantasy, romance, angst, action, AU, etc.
Pairing(s): Secret for now, DBSK/SUJU/other SM crossover (eventually)
Rating: PG-13 (for now, though if I can convince my friends to add some smut for me it may get R/NC-17 later)
Disclaimer: The plot and diction belong to me; the characters do not.
Summary: Why couldn't our boys really be gods?
A/N: I'll write a better summary with the first or second chapter, but I don't want to spoil anything just yet...gotta leave some mystery. ;D This is epic fail...I apologize in advance. >.< I've been playing with this idea for a while now, and I've gotten enough of a plot written out to go ahead and start posting this. COMMENTS AND CRITICISM ARE LOVED!! Even harsh words, which are probably all this deserves, heh. ^-^;;
Prologue
For as long as he could remember, Shim Changmin had been sick. His first memory saw him hunched over on a playground, lying on sharp little rocks with scrapes covering his body and screaming for his mother. His parents told him the full story later: that his father had pushed him down a covered slide, that somehow he had ended up flying head first out of the slide and that he had stopped by skidding on the gravel instead of landing safely in his mother’s embrace. Changmin always saw a flash of guilt in his parents’ eyes when they recounted this story, but he never blamed them for his first attack; all he could remember was the laughter that filled his ears and the blurred faces of the other children who had found glee and hilarity in his graceless fall. When the laughter had reached its pitch, he remembered starting to convulse and finally, blessedly losing consciousness.
His next memory took place about 5 hours later, when his mother’s grief-filled voice calling his name brought him back to consciousness and reality. He tried to reach out to his mother, but found his body bound to a bed by thick leather straps that retrained his limbs. He was in a hospital, and he had just survived his first seizure; one of an uncountable number that he would have to face in his lifetime. Of course, the mind of a 4 year old can only understand so much, and all Changmin really remembers of his first emergency room visit are those restraints that kept him away from the comfort of his mother’s embrace.
The rest of his early memories are mostly fragments of the same: hospital rooms, thick leather bands, and sobbing relatives. The doctors could never diagnose the cause of these seizures; he never had a problem with flashing lights and didn’t have any other signs of epilepsy. They told his parents that he had a frail constitution and that his body was just too weak to handle the daily stresses that he put on it; he wouldn’t live beyond age 8, they said. When his mother pleaded for an answer, for some kind of treatment to prolong his life, the specialists only shook their heads sadly and told her that the best thing she could do for her boy was treat him like every other child his age and pray for the best. She took the doctors’ words to heart, and the next day enrolled Changmin in school after spending the morning at Catholic Mass. She went to church every morning from then on, praying to God and saints and any celestial being she had and hadn’t heard of to keep her son alive just one more day. And until Changmin started working towards prolonging his own life, these prayers were all that kept him alive; that, and the thoughts of four others who had spent the last 400 years searching for him.
* * * * * * * * * *
With each successive year, Shim Changmin had fewer and fewer attacks. His parents hoped that he was growing out of them as his body grew stronger; his doctors certainly weren’t discouraging the idea. Changmin, however, often thought that increasing age wasn’t the reason for his increase in health. He had noticed, from the first sticker that his teacher had given him for counting to 10, that praise, recognition, and personal success not only made him feel emotionally content but also benefited his physical state as well. While his mind never openly entertained or accepted this idea, he still subconsciously strove to be the best in everything he did while secretly hoping that one day he might never get sick again.
He was campaigning to be Student Government President of his 9th grade class when it happened. He and his campaign associates had set up tables in the garden beside the high school and were handing out free slices of pizza with fliers to students. The fliers had a picture of Changmin in the dead center, with the slogan, “The Story Has Just Begun! Vote Shim Changmin for President and Break Up the Shell You Hide In!” Changmin had hated the slogan at first, but the cheesiness of it had gone well with the cheesiness of the pizza, and everyone seemed to expect corny phrases from the candidates so he let it slide. After all, he seemed to have more of a following than the other students he was running against - though the karaoke machine a group of girls were currently singing along to might have something to do with it. Smiling inwardly at his success, he was shaking hands and introducing himself to his classmates when the song - thankfully - ended and the girls reluctantly stepped away to make room for the next participant. Before the 3 boys could take over, however, someone started chanting “Changmin! Changmin!” In less than 30 seconds, all of the students in the garden had taken up the mantra and were pushing him towards the stage. Changmin had sung before, of course; he was in the church children’s choir when he was 6, until he had an attack after a Christmas performance of “Santa Clause Is Coming to Town” - he had tripped while exiting the stage and rolled down three whole steps before managing to catch himself; his cheeks still flushed scarlet when he remembered how the other kids in the choir had laughed when he finally returned back stage, and kept pretending to trip like he had. He had never thought much of his singing voice, though, and he felt this couldn’t end in anything but disaster. However, Changmin had never been able to turn down anyone, and their chanting emboldened him and gave him so much confidence that he strutted up to the microphone like he owned the stage. So certain was he in his previously untested singing ability that he even chose an English song, hoping to impress his peers even more. Please, Changmin thought to himself silently, please don’t mess this up.
As the opening notes of “When I First Kissed You” echoed across the yard, he found that he was strangely calm; calmer than he had ever been before a crowd. As the lyrics flowed from his lips, his entire being became a part of the song. He felt himself weaving in and out with the melody, gliding over the waves of music before tumbling smoothly back to reality as the song crested in a beautiful crescendo and came to a velvety, sultry close. When the final beat had reverberated around the garden, Changmin realized that his eyes were closed, and that he hadn’t been reading off the karaoke machine at all; his mind had been elsewhere, the music taking him away to a far away place that he knew could only exist in his own imagination and an audience that he swore he had never seen before…except maybe in his dreams. As he opened his eyes and took in the scene of his fellow classmates surrounding him, his nervousness returned full force. Oh no, he thought as his heartbeat quickened. Not again…please don’t laugh - All at once, his thoughts were interrupted by a shout, followed by louder shouts and clapping. Clapping. They were clapping for him. Grinning from ear to ear, Changmin flushed with embarrassment as the crowd began to shout for an encore. He wondered if he had ever felt so good in his life.
-------------------------
Confused?? Yea, me too. 8P There are hints to what will happen later on, but nothing will make much sense, or hint at the title until the next chapter or so. Sorry for the crap-tastic ness, again! Gomen~