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Unnamed Prologue

 
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Tenshi



Joined: 18 Apr 2008
Posts: 2594
Location: Star Stuff

PostPosted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 9:14 am    Post subject: Unnamed Prologue Reply with quote

(Directly pasted from my word processor, so there are no italics in it. This is what my muse wanted to get out of me! Haha. Unedited, of course. I go sleepy now.)

**Prologue**

The dream was the same as it was every time. Dark black clouds boiled across the surface of the sky, churning and fighting for dominance between flashes of lightning. Heavy rain fell in a sideways slant, coating everything with an almost permanent chill. The sound of the heavens crashing down from above very nearly drowned out the sound of the sea crashing into the rocks below. It was here, on the rocky cliff that dared reach between the sea and the sky, that she stood.

“Come down!” he heard himself call in a stiff, practiced voice. The passion had long since gone out of those words, even in this dream.

He was reaching out in front of him, willing his words toward the lone figure on the edge of the cliffs. She stood with her back to the open air behind her, the sea's breath pushing her hair over her face. All he could make out between flashes of lightning was one glistening eye, and the faintest smile on her lips. The rain pelted her, pushed her toward him for all it was worth. Even with the wind blowing her sun dress in perfect alignment with the slant of the rain, she would not move. It was perhaps the first time that he noticed it, or perhaps just since he had last tried to forget. The sun dress matched her skin quite well, in those dark surroundings. Against the roiling black sky, and the slick brown rock at her bare feet, her pale skin no longer clashed with the yellow dress.

Somewhere inside himself he went numb, his arm outstretched in the rain. Tiny stones of hail began to fall, hammering his arm and face. He wanted to go to her, to brave the rain and the slick rocks. He wanted more than anything in all the world to chase her there, to try and save her from what came next.

But he couldn't. Not then, and not now.

Lightning flashed again, but this time much closer. There was a blinding glow, and a sudden feeling of warmth. He heard the distant voices growing, whispers of systolic pressure and pulse rate. She was still frozen in that flash before him, her smile sorrowful and her eyes welled with tears. The voices grew louder all around him, as the image of her began to fade into darkness. With her, she took the glow of the lightning strike and the sound of the water.

“He's stabilizing! Get me Hurim, now!” cried a panicked female voice. Somewhere, distantly, he wanted to tell her it was all right. Almost as if he recognized the voice.
“His pulse is weak, blood pressure is still low,” said a much calmer male voice. It made him feel comfortable, safe.
“God, at least he's breathing. Keep pressure on that! Don't you let go, don't you dare let go!” replied the female voice, but now all of his feelings of comfort were fading away.

There was a sudden twinge of pain in his side. The light was fading from his vision completely, and he could no longer see the woman standing on the rocks. Replacing it was another light, which quickly separated into a series of eight lights forming a circle. Each light hovered above him, humming softly. As he tried to focus on them, the pain became more and more clear. With the pain, came the voices. With the voices, came the light. It rose in intensity and heat, until he was so very sure he would be burned alive by it. Then a thought occurred to him: it was not the light at all. The burning sensation? It was the pain.

He gasped, his eyes finally opening. Around him stood three young students, their light green medical uniforms barely standing out against the pale blue walls. Situated above him was a large lamp, making it almost impossible for him to see back up at those who were above him. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead could only mouth the words. Frustration mounted in his throat, and he attempted to raise his arm to object. The pain worsened, if only for a moment, and stars danced across his vision.

“He's awake! Father preserve us,” the young woman he had heard before spoke quickly. She turned her head to the side, her eyes frantic and full of fear. “Get me Hurim, I said! Do it now!” She called to someone he could not see. The sound of rubber soled sneakers squealing against tile responded to her, and she returned her eyes to his. In them, he could see the dark lack of hope that consumed her. The panic, the pain. “Hold on, Johnathan! Just hold on, you're going to be okay!”
“Julian, we're going to-” began the young man on his other side. He turned his head to the man, trying to search his features for some clues. Anthony, yes, that was his name. A young medical student, new to the facility.
“Shut up! We're not going to lose him! Apply pressure, Sarah! Do I have to do everything myself?” Julian responded quickly, reaching across his stomach. He felt the fire grow in his belly again, and lay his head back.

Stars danced between his eyes, spreading out to either side. He watched them flicker and fade, then pulse forward from some unseen mist. They rose in reds and blues, blacks and pinks, yellows and greens. They glittered there, shimmering as if covered in the morning dew. And then, the pain returned. He finally managed a sound, a groan this time. A hospital monitor next to his bed beeped it's agreement at his sentiment.

“He's finally taking the sedative in. Than-” Julian began, but was cut off.

She seemed to fall upwards, or maybe he was falling backwards. It was hard to be sure. Everything began to move in slow motion, dim colors and faded lights against a background of solid darkness. A man in a deep blue medical uniform joined Julian's side, and began working on something. It seemed so silly, for them to be rushing and hurrying with their work. Now that everything was so far away, it didn't hurt anymore. Nothing hurt, in fact. Not even the lights, not even his stomach. Why, not even his arms and legs. He could even move them, if he wanted.

When he tried to lift his right arm, the man whom Julian had been arguing with quickly pushed it back down. Best not try that again, then, he thought. There was something odd about all of this, he then decided. Every time he saw them stand up after leaning forward, their uniforms were darker. The light green seemed to be stained some horrible brown color. It covered their hands and arms, and even their fronts sometimes.

He began to focus on that brown, suddenly very intent on discovering it's origin. Something in the back of his mind told him it was important, but he could not remember why it could be so. Julian leaned in again, and he watched her every slow-motion movement with great interest. The sedatives felt like they were wearing off quite quickly because he found himself with a sudden and intense need to focus on one specific thing. The pain flared up, only slightly, and died again.

And then she rose up, covered in the brown stuff. Only, it wasn't brown. It was red. Blood.

Then, it all made sense. Applying pressure was something you did for a deep wound, the sort that would bleed out otherwise. Checking his pulse would be part of seeing if he were still alive. It had to have been an accident, of some kind. He couldn't remember the specifics, but he did know one thing for certain. That was his blood on her hands and arms. Further, there was a lot of it.
_________________
. Dubbed "Usagi" by AsA .
Keeper of the Siderean Swords

"If by chance some day you're not feeling well, and you should remember some silly thing I've said or done, and it brings back a smile to your face or a chuckle to your heart, then my purpose as your clown has been fulfilled."
Red Skelton
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