02:37
Tuesday night.
A thick mist covered the wet streets of Cronopolis, the cloud only reaching a height of half a meter from the ground. The air was humid from the storm, filled with the calming scent of petrichor. It was quiet, though not in the sense that you could hear no sounds, thunders raged like war drums, though the tunes matched perfectly, mixing a beautiful symphony. A single boy stood outside, wet and shivering from the cold, looking down at the mist, which perfectly shielded the ground from his eyes. Five meters in front of him was a house, lights all turned off, door locked, creatures sleeping in their beds without a care in the world. They were probably dreaming.
He opened another door, more carefully this time, for he was close to his killer and he did not want to wake him up. He took a step inside the room. There was another boy sleeping on a bed, white sheets covering his body from the cold, a soft pillow resting his head. One’s good luck, is another’s misfortune. He noticed the knife on the floor, still stained red of his blood. He was calm, more so than he had ever been. It was as if the moment had been waiting for him an eternity, and finally he stood just seconds away from a life-long goal. He was in the eye of the hurricane, above him the sky was clean and bellow him the seas were calm… but surrounding him a storm raged, and soon he would be caught up in it once more. He did not need the knife to take a life, but doing so with the weapon of his murderer would only make revenge much sweeter.
“I had a dream.”
He whispered.
“You were in that Dream”
He took a deep breath. Held it in.
“But this is real… and this time, I’m the one killing you.”
He smiled, pushing the knife against the boy’s body. He stabbed once. The boy woke up, he screamed. Blood poured out of the wound. Kumori stabbed again at the screaming boy, his body twitching uncontrollably. More blood poured out like an upside-down waterfall. The white bed-sheets where stained crimson.
He stopped. He dropped the knife. The boy was dead, thick blood gushing out of his wounds and puke staining his shirt. It was a horrible sight. In a way it was almost like a dream, where Kumori was spectating from the top rather than perspective. He could see the layout of the house as if there was no roof. He could see the murder scene in all its glory, the killer standing in front of the body, holding his head like he couldn’t believe what he had just done. What an idiot.
A door opened in the room next to where his body stood. A man came out holding a sword. “What happened!?” – he yelled, turning on all of the lights as he ran towards the room, two people, women, behind them, an old one - his wife, and a younger one - his daughter. “Norio? Norio!” He came into the room screaming, holding his sword up to kill the intruder.
But Kumori was faster. He swung the sword, slashing Kumori right in the middle, cutting his body in half. He is dead now, thought the man, but he was mistaken. The paper that made up his body began flying across the room, cutting deeply into the flesh of the man as they took the shape of the killer just in front of the two women.
“Punishment.” – he said in a clear voice. “I deserve punishment.” He extended his hand life a sword and stabbed the man in the back, the arm going all the way through the body and reaching the other side, pushing with it the intestines as he tunneled through them. “But the world is unfair.”
He smiled… but he was not enjoying the moment. He retracted his arm, the man’s body falling to the floor, as he did so. Blood poured out of the whole in his middle section like a waterfall, creating a pool of thick crimson mud in the ground. He was still alive; it was evident due to the way his body was convulsing.
Kumori turned back, no longer smiling at the terrified women. “I’m sorry.”
“Get away!” – said the mother. “Get away!” – She turned to look at her daughter. “Run!” The younger one was petrified, kneeling down; eyes wide open as she stared at her dead father and brother. The mother charged forward, with the sort of determination only a mother would show.
“I’m sorry.” He said as he brought the mother to a standstill, her head-less body still struggling with the promise to protect her daughter. The younger one began to cry, she stood up, still scared, hate in her eyes but hoping to live. She turned back and ran. But it was too late.
“I’m sorry.”
He said it one last time, for no one would be there to hear him say it again.
You should have slept through it. You should have tried harder. You shouldn’t have been born with a healthy heart… maybe then you and your family would still be alive.
He now held his first heart in his hand. He would become a hero to his clan. They would have to love him! He would be a god to them!
He took the heart, the first of many. He pressed it against his chest, sinking it into his body as if it was made of clay. The paper that had replaced his flesh would become the vessel that would transport the source of his immortality. He closed his eyes and imagined what the next ten years will be like. He smiled.
Topic Entered/Left
B-Rank: 2 hours
Tuesday night.
A thick mist covered the wet streets of Cronopolis, the cloud only reaching a height of half a meter from the ground. The air was humid from the storm, filled with the calming scent of petrichor. It was quiet, though not in the sense that you could hear no sounds, thunders raged like war drums, though the tunes matched perfectly, mixing a beautiful symphony. A single boy stood outside, wet and shivering from the cold, looking down at the mist, which perfectly shielded the ground from his eyes. Five meters in front of him was a house, lights all turned off, door locked, creatures sleeping in their beds without a care in the world. They were probably dreaming.
Click.
Click.
Creeeeaaaaak.
He carefully opened the door, jumping slightly at the creaking sound that it made as he did so. The boy was still trembling from the cold, his black and grey clothes still wet from the rain. Inside it was cozy, way better than the alley where he had slept. He closed the door, and gradually the cold went away. Shielded from the rain and wind, he could see and think clearly now. What was I doing again? It took a minute to remember, but he did. It was easy to remember when he touched his face, all beat up, and blood scabs already covering the wounds he got earlier that night. I’m here to stop me from dying. Isn’t that right?Click.
Creeeeaaaaak.
He opened another door, more carefully this time, for he was close to his killer and he did not want to wake him up. He took a step inside the room. There was another boy sleeping on a bed, white sheets covering his body from the cold, a soft pillow resting his head. One’s good luck, is another’s misfortune. He noticed the knife on the floor, still stained red of his blood. He was calm, more so than he had ever been. It was as if the moment had been waiting for him an eternity, and finally he stood just seconds away from a life-long goal. He was in the eye of the hurricane, above him the sky was clean and bellow him the seas were calm… but surrounding him a storm raged, and soon he would be caught up in it once more. He did not need the knife to take a life, but doing so with the weapon of his murderer would only make revenge much sweeter.
“I had a dream.”
He whispered.
“You were in that Dream”
He took a deep breath. Held it in.
“But this is real… and this time, I’m the one killing you.”
He smiled, pushing the knife against the boy’s body. He stabbed once. The boy woke up, he screamed. Blood poured out of the wound. Kumori stabbed again at the screaming boy, his body twitching uncontrollably. More blood poured out like an upside-down waterfall. The white bed-sheets where stained crimson.
He stopped. He dropped the knife. The boy was dead, thick blood gushing out of his wounds and puke staining his shirt. It was a horrible sight. In a way it was almost like a dream, where Kumori was spectating from the top rather than perspective. He could see the layout of the house as if there was no roof. He could see the murder scene in all its glory, the killer standing in front of the body, holding his head like he couldn’t believe what he had just done. What an idiot.
Was he dead now? No… no… he was the one standing. He remembered now… he had just killed someone.
A door opened in the room next to where his body stood. A man came out holding a sword. “What happened!?” – he yelled, turning on all of the lights as he ran towards the room, two people, women, behind them, an old one - his wife, and a younger one - his daughter. “Norio? Norio!” He came into the room screaming, holding his sword up to kill the intruder.
But Kumori was faster. He swung the sword, slashing Kumori right in the middle, cutting his body in half. He is dead now, thought the man, but he was mistaken. The paper that made up his body began flying across the room, cutting deeply into the flesh of the man as they took the shape of the killer just in front of the two women.
“Punishment.” – he said in a clear voice. “I deserve punishment.” He extended his hand life a sword and stabbed the man in the back, the arm going all the way through the body and reaching the other side, pushing with it the intestines as he tunneled through them. “But the world is unfair.”
He smiled… but he was not enjoying the moment. He retracted his arm, the man’s body falling to the floor, as he did so. Blood poured out of the whole in his middle section like a waterfall, creating a pool of thick crimson mud in the ground. He was still alive; it was evident due to the way his body was convulsing.
Kumori turned back, no longer smiling at the terrified women. “I’m sorry.”
“Get away!” – said the mother. “Get away!” – She turned to look at her daughter. “Run!” The younger one was petrified, kneeling down; eyes wide open as she stared at her dead father and brother. The mother charged forward, with the sort of determination only a mother would show.
“I’m sorry.” He said as he brought the mother to a standstill, her head-less body still struggling with the promise to protect her daughter. The younger one began to cry, she stood up, still scared, hate in her eyes but hoping to live. She turned back and ran. But it was too late.
“I’m sorry.”
He said it one last time, for no one would be there to hear him say it again.
You should have slept through it. You should have tried harder. You shouldn’t have been born with a healthy heart… maybe then you and your family would still be alive.
He now held his first heart in his hand. He would become a hero to his clan. They would have to love him! He would be a god to them!
He took the heart, the first of many. He pressed it against his chest, sinking it into his body as if it was made of clay. The paper that had replaced his flesh would become the vessel that would transport the source of his immortality. He closed his eyes and imagined what the next ten years will be like. He smiled.
Topic Entered/Left
B-Rank: 2 hours