Innocent Mind
I am back. Run and cower in FEAR. >:D
So, as you can tell, I haven't commited suicide. In fact, I'm quite happy now, and when I look at the olden journals I ponder what the fuck was wrong with me. Now my friends, they are depressed too mostly, but they are /sanely/ depressed, not just acting like a bunch of stupid asses with no real reason. Ah, well.
So the point is now that I am happy. Particularly today, I spent insane amounts of time doing absolutely nothing with my gf yesterday, and it was about as good as nothing can get...which is pretty goddamn good.
And today I spent time writing, a habit I have reformed over time. I am once more enjoying the creation of my own stories, its really quite fun. I intend to post my latest today, actually.
So, moving onward, we come to my mood.. I am in fact mellow, I really haven't a care. The music is Natalie Imbruglia - Torn, which I sometimes listen to if I'm both depressed and happy at the same time. Today, however, I play the music video.. Perfect Blue anime with Torn, by Aluminum Studios, god of all music video makers. And how does the music video suit my mood if the music does not? Simple. It has boobies. See? Told you it was simple.
And now the reason that got me started posting again (and will probly keep me posting)... MY NEW STORY. Innocent Mind, an addition to the Epra world, Epra being a kind of story, bout 100 pages long or so, that I wrote. I have a tendency to throw such things away, I mean what the hell am I going to do with it, right? Get it published? Pfft. Though I do save the general idea for when I think maybe whatever talent I may have in the future surfaces and I have a chance in hell of getting actual money off of a published work.
INNOCENT MIND
Something felt wrong.
The situation, the setting, god only knows what. Though the wrongness could not be easily ascertained in such a jumbled, sprawling land of ruination, it felt important--felt pivotol.
Above.
My head turned upward toward the tip of one amongst many mountains of sprawling debris. My prey was there, staring thoughtfully at me from his absurdly young eyes. And what I must do hit me as though the boy himself had lunged the entire junk pile upon my chest. A child. A boy. My enemy.
It changed nothing--one of us would not leave here. Instead the vanquished would find eternal rest in this forsaken wasteland. It would not be me.
His light, almost feminine, young voice spoke up from above me, resounding throughout the remnants of ancient civilization around me. "Here I am. Now what?" His voice quivered with fear as he spoke, undermining his confident pose atop his mountain of rubish.
I considered. Of course it didn't have to end that way--this confrontation must end in death by the laws of our world and the ways we have chosen to live, though not necessarily the death of the boy I saw before me. I settled my voice and cleared my mind of thought before speaking in my clearest, most confident voice. "Perhaps. Your age does not protect you from the atrocities of this war, nor absolve the man you will invariably become of the crimes he will commit." I unstrapped the gun from my back, pulling the rubber safety block from the power source and listening to the mechanical whir as it began to charge.
While I was carrying out this ritualistic procedure I failed to notice, in my own foolish confidence gained by the apparent age of my prey, the quiet groaning of the debris upon which the boy stood. By the time I did, the avalanche was already upon me.
Instinctively, I tossed my gun away and sprung to the side, trying to get out of the landing path of the monumental column of twisted metals and plastics. I took too long. My left ankle was hit mid-leap and I fell to the ground after it, at first shocked, and then frightened when my predicament dawned upon me in full force. My foot was stuck, more than likely broken, and my gun was god only knows where now.
As I slipped my hand downward, under the rubble to check my foot, a shadow fell on my face. Above me now stood the boy, my inherited enemy, his bare skin's light blue tint more apparent at this proximity and angle. The nudity did not suprise me, for what use was clothing among people who have control over the functions of their bodies, and rarely interact besides? Nor did the sudden appearance of this boy disturb me, Epra were known for such tricks of leaping high and landing softly. The gun he held in his arms, however. That was surprising, even moreso due to the way he held the handle toward me rather than the charged barrel.
His mouth twitched slightly in a strange grimmace. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted to see you up close. My name is Arno. If you are going to kill me, go ahead. This world has nothing for me." His sudden confidence and the intelligence and wisdom behind his words startled me. Still, my mind had been made up long ago, and this world had its unbreakable laws.
Uncurling my abdomen and removing my hand from the rubble behind me I reached out and took the trigger in my hand, the hand that had killed so many of his kind before now.
I squeezed the trigger.
His scream chilled me for the fact that I had never heard an Epra scream. Usually they would cut the connection between their brains and their nerves in order to push themselves harder without pain. Arno's young body fell to the ground in a heap, blood flowing onto the soil from the hole the blast had created in his chest.
The memory of the young Epra boy Arno haunts me still. I have not killed since then, nor have the desire to kill. Thus I find my name disgraced and my money depleting. But I cannot--he made sure of that. His is the face I see in my dreams, how he looked up close with the sunlight at his back like some biblical martyr, innocent and happy, yet pained in a profound way. His is the scream of unbearable agony that rips the thoughts from my head like a foghorn held to my ear every waking moment. He was innocent, no matter the many reasons I use to justify the action I took. He was innocent.
I do so hope that was fucked up enough for you. That is all for now :)