Ephemeral
by Chibi J
Okay, this is my first YYH fic, and it has no
plot. It's just basically an insanely dark fic, in the first person, as Hiei
thinks about himself. It includes a poem at the beginning, which I also wrote.
Okay, to submission requirements:
Name: Chibi J
E-mail: chekov_leningrad@hotmail.com
Webpage: Um, no YYH yet, but about 10 others.....
Category: Evil fiction
Okay, here goes the story:::
Ephemeral
Found in eternity, lost once again
Waking in nothingness, dreaming in sin
Steel eyes tell the tale of the years they have borne
Ever in sorrow, forbidden to mourn
Faith is a falsehood, forged only of ice
A mockery to those who have lived the hard price
You no longer fear that you will not survive
The toil of your heart is to know you’re alive
Time flows about you in eddies and waves
Your tongue, turned to dust, cannot speak what it craves
You have naught but tendrils of memory to find
The last lingering wisp of the choice left behind
The plea of the haunted encased full in lead
The cold brush of ageless eternity sped
The price that you pay is to never be whole
To exist with the knowledge
You once had a soul
Here in the shadows where I make my home, I wonder what the light feels like.
I’ve spent brief moments in its splendor, but always, when I return to the
obscurity that is my domain, I cannot remember what it aroused in me. I become a
shell, a frame that supports a vanished substance, as I have always been. I
wonder when was the last moment I truly felt anything but pain. Perhaps I never
did; it’s so hard to know.
It’s all I remember--the pain, I mean. I can’t recall a time when it
didn’t dog my steps, omnipresent, repressible only for moments before its
return. I could push it to the farthest corner of my mind, and hold it there,
but it was never truly gone. I learned to veil it, to deny its existence, for
once it was said that to deny something will cause its demise, was it not? It
seemed to help, but never brought the pain to an end.
I wonder if Kurama knows. Probably. His is the same kind of pain. But he shares
it with others, and lessens it thereby. I can never do that. He alone may know
what torment I embrace within, but I will not share with him. Never. I will
never share with anyone. That way lies vulnerability. And I have no wish to be
vulnerable.
I sometimes think that I’m gripping a thread, a delicate filament that is all
that anchors me to sanity. Perhaps I am. It won’t be too long before that
thread snaps. But I’m not worried. No, not worried at all. After all, that’s
what I want. Maybe when I can no longer think and no longer live, the pain will
subside and give me some measure of tranquility, serenity.
Then again, maybe not. I have only to wait and see.
It’s a dull ache sometimes, and a sharp, rending agony at others. Right now,
as I think of it and ponder what I have become, it is the latter. And the worst
of it, the worst of it is that I cannot bandage my wounds, I cannot stop them
from festering, for they are not physical; no, they are scars of the mind,
forever to be borne in silence and eternal hope for the end.
A soul such as mine should never have existed in the first place. What am I, to
the world? A scourge of killing and rage and hatred, and worse, the enjoyment of
all of it. Or rather, I used to enjoy it. It has lost its magnetism for me, and
I find myself without purpose. Did I ever have a purpose? I’m not certain
whether I did once, or whether I merely deluded myself into believing that I
did, just to give myself a reason not to drive my blade through my own heart
instead of that of another.
Kurama, Yusuke, Botan, that idiot Kuwabara, even Yukina: none of them would give
so much as a single thought for my life. Some of them would even prefer to see
me gone. I can tell. It’s fine with me. And I understand. I do nothing useful,
and indeed much that is destructive to everyone around me. Why should they all
not want me to leave? I do.
Perhaps that is what I should do. I think that I will. But I don’t know how
soon. I need to find a place near at hand yet far enough away that they cannot
find me in time. Not that they will let me die in peace. No, they’ll resurrect
me over and over again, because of some foolish notion that I’m worth
something. That’s why it has to be far. But it also must be near, so that I
can say goodbye.
Goodbye. Such a useless sentiment. And yet I want to. Not for them, for me. I
admit to the weakness of caring. Especially for Kurama and Yukina: my sister and
my friend. They are the only ones who truly ever bothered to care. They don’t
anymore; how could they, after discovering what I really am--a sick and twisted
soul bent on devastation and ruin, totally incapable of love? Caring perhaps,
but not love. That is beyond the bounds that my worthless evil allows me to
touch.
So that is how it stands. The pain is receding now, becoming dull, almost
bearable. When I go away, it will vanish completely, leaving behind only a
floating memory that has no home.
How long until I leave? I’m not certain.
Soon.
Decent? Mostly okay? Dismally bad?