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Shin Hyakuji High School Tvtropes
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
| White Clock; My first -finished- short story~ | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 7 2010, 01:57 AM (293 Views) | |
| Slyte | Jun 7 2010, 01:57 AM Post #1 |
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There's evil in your heart .. and it wants out to play.
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White Clock The dark-haired woman sat quietly, her hands wrapped around her. She was sitting in an empty white room, besides the chair she was sitting on. Her pale, heart-shaped face looked upwards toward the white clock hung up on the wall. Tick, tock, tick, tock. The sound of the second-hand moving across the clock echoed in her ears. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Her big blue eyes reflected the dark bold numbers on the face of the clock. Tick … Her eyes closed and a not so distant memory started to replay. _________________ The clock read half past seven. The shabbily-framed window displayed a dark, cloudy sky with the glowing moon hung high in the sky. You could hear a woman's voice, naively chatting away, accompanied by an occasional grumble of the masculine kind. All was at peace until the sound of plates crashing to the ground could be heard. Slap! The woman was obviously shocked, not having moved a muscle. She could feel a sharp tingle on her arm before it went numb. A whimper escaped her lips which soon evolved into a sob. Her hands had minds of their own, moving to cover her face. Before she could stop herself, she was bawling like a baby. Smack! She jumped as she felt herself being hurled against the wall. Her body had gone limp and she fell onto the ground where shards of broken china lay. A piece cut her lip and the beads of blood that were starting to form were mixed with her hot, salty tears. "Please ..! Stop ..!" she cried in desperation, her hands shaking in fear. Large, rough hands grabbed her arms and shook her abruptly. "You think that if you cry, someone will come racing to save you? Do you really think that is true?" The man laughed rancorously in her face. "Let's see if you are right!" He continued to hit her, the contact of his hands to her skin leaving welts all over her. She cried louder and louder, attempting to stifle her wails by biting her lip. She could taste the bitter iron of her blood crawling down her throat. As much as she wanted to open her mouth and vomit, she remained steadfast, her grip on her lip not once weakening. _________________ She opened her eyes and her pupils contracted to the light. The woman did not seem alarmed in the slightest despite how disturbing her memory was. She knew it was all in the past; it could not hurt her anymore. Her mind seemed to have scattered and she was at a loss as to what to do. Not that she could really do anything. The white jacket she wore was wrapped quite tightly around her. Tick, tock, tick, tock. The sound of the clock lulled her back to her memories as she closed her eyes once more. _________________ "Take care of yourself, Heather!" cried Cale, an Irishman who sold vegetables. Heather smiled and nodded. "You too!" She sat on the bench and looked inside the paper bag she was carrying. There wasn't very much inside; just a few potatoes, some garlic and a carrot. Heather seemed satisfied with it and set it aside before opening her small, dirty purse. No coins. Heather frowned but didn't linger on it. Having no coins was not a rare occurrence. She was about to leave when she saw a crowd of children, huddling over something. Curiosity getting the better of her, she peered over them to see what they were so fascinated about. A scruffy, thin animal laid in a heap, taking deep wheezing breaths. At first glance, Heather thought it might have been a large rat of some sort but upon closer inspection, she realized it was a cat. Her eyes widened and for the first time in her life, she felt pity. Being poor and overworked, many kind people sympathized and pitied her. Never in her life had she found someone who possibly had it rougher than her. The children were taken away by their parents, their protests ignored. Soon, it was only the cat and Heather, alone. She kneeled down and sat, thinking about what she should do. Should she leave? She stared at the cat and the cat started to stare back. They talked through their eyes and she understood its feelings on a completely whole new level. _________________ Heather's eyes did not open when she was done reminiscing. Her mouth was set into a small frown, as if her memory had stopped too short. Although this was somewhat true, there was more to it. The events that followed were the memories she chose to never, ever think of. They lay, covered in layers of dust, in the back of her mind, never to be remembered. Ever. Her lips loosened into their natural pose, her facial expression became neutral. Heather pondered on which memory she wanted to call on next. She didn't exactly have wonderful memories of sunny days with her feline friend, but every memory she had with it, she cherished. She loved that cat. That, you could know for sure. She took good care of it. She gave up her own food for it. She protected it. It was everything to her. Why? It was the only living being she knew that had the same situation, who was in the same boat as her. With that cat, she knew someone in the world understood how she felt. Tick, tock, tick, tock. The clock guided her to her next memory. _________________ Heather set down a bowl of what appeared to be mashed up potatoes and a little portion of meat. The cat walked forward cautiously, smelling the food before wolfing it down. The cat was no longer frail and weak. It wasn't exactly healthy-looking, but it was getting there. Heather smiled warmly at the cat and proceeded to stroke its fur. The cat responded by purring avidly. "Grow up to be healthy and strong," she murmured with a smile, gazing fondly at it. The cat started to walk away, disappearing after the corner. Heather picked up the plate and began to clean the house. After she was done, she heard the door open and a man walked in. "You're home early, honey," she said nonchalantly. Usually, he would question the motif behind her comment but he seemed to be preoccupied with something else. He placed a small, brown sack onto the table, nudged it with his hand and out came gold pieces, spilling out. He looked into Heather's eyes, clearly not amused. She widened her eyes in surprise and delight, her face portraying excitement and wonder. "Oh my god ..! Where did you get that from?" she cried, beaming from ear to ear, "We'll be able to pay all our debts and buy a good house with that money!" The man crossed his arms. "You're cheating on me," he said calmly, closing his eyes, "I saw a man with black hair and a scar across his right eye put this on our doorstep." Heather paused for a moment, trying to collect herself. 'What should I say?' 'What do I do?' 'Who is that man?' 'He doesn't sound familiar..' 'I'm not cheating on anyone!' 'He deserves to be cheated on.' All these thoughts rushed through her head, it was hard to sort out which she should really think about and which she should just keep in her head. When it came to what she did next .. She didn't do anything. She knew what was coming and that whatever she did would not change his opinion. After he had crossed his arms, she knew his presumptions would not change, even under false pretences. Heather zoned out as her body was thrashed around, hit here, punched there. She could feel a trickle of blood running down her forehead. In the shadows, she saw the black cat that she loved. Her face moved upward, so she could get a better look. The man was still abusing her but she had lost feeling in her body. She couldn't feel a thing. The cat moved into the light and she had an epiphany. The cat had a scar along its right eye, with pink flesh where black fur was supposed to grow. She watched helplessly as the cat's eyes transitioned into different emotions. Pain, anger, sadness meshing into one burning passion. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the shine of an object. Heather looked down and saw a knife, clenched tightly in the man's hand. His lips were moving but she could hear no sound. She prepared herself for the plunge of the knife and shut her eyes tight. The anticipation of the pain was unbearable, waiting for the sharpness to dig into her flesh and the pain to smother her heart. Heather remembered seeing the cat from beneath her eyelids and the memories made with it flashing before her. Everything she loved, everything she would miss .. When she opened her eyes, she could only see one thing. Blood. Crimson red blood overflowing. The glistening red liquid oozing into a pool around her. She looked up and saw the lifeless figure of the cat. The blood, it was the cat's. It wasn't her's. The knife did not pierce her either. Nevertheless, she felt pain. A strong, dark pain that felt much more worse than a stab to the heart. The woman's eyes widened and she screamed. She was shaking profusely, a sea of emotions coursing through her. The blood pulsing through her veins were threatening to burst open. She kneeled in silence, her long fringe casting a sinister shadow over her face. Heather threw back her head and the sound of pain, anguish, anger and a woman losing her sanity echoed in the bleak room. |
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