Oneshot Ficlet
Aug. 14th, 2004 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azuriteWrote this last night after I saw "Collateral." Entirely by hand, too. Ow, hand cramps. It's a creepy oneshot Yu-Gi-Oh fic, but I suppose it could be applied to other fandoms. The mystery awaits you...
I needed to disappear for a while. But how do you disappear in a city with millions of people going in and out everyday? It's not like anyone really remembers names or faces, but... I really needed to disappear.
So I did. How, you ask? It was easy. Easier than even I thought at first. I contradicted my very nature-- to be perfect, in the spotlight, and at the top.
I became what nobody wanted to see. Invisible. Non-existent. Not even a phantom, or a mystery.
I just wasn't.
I became a killer.
I lost the only person who meant -really meant- anything to me.
You know how they (whoever 'they' are) say: "You never know how much something means to you until it's gone?" Well I would have liked to say that it's utter bull, and that it's realistic to accept that all things come and go, nothing is forever, and what doesn't kill you makes you strong eventually.
But I can't. I took him for granted, and now... he's gone forever.
I guess you could say -in part- that he made me what I am. He'd be ashamed -no, horrified- to hear that, but it's the truth. If he were still here -still alive- then things wouldn't be like this. I'm sure of it.
It's not like I'm fooling anyone, though. There is no 'just cause' and I'm sure as hell not a martyr.
I don't look down at my victims and think about their friends or family. I don't consider what the world would be like without that person. What difference does it really make in the long run, anyway?
No one really cares.
I'm living proof. I've faded from sight, from people's minds. A long time ago --or maybe it just feels like a long time-- someone might have cared.
But not now.
I'm impassive. Indifferent. Icy.
Alone. Frozen. "I" am...
A murderer. One of these days, it'll catch up to me. Be 'it' my destiny, my fate, my karma, or the justice due to me... it'll come around. It always does.
If I'm the Harbinger of Dark, or of Death, or whatever, then I have an opposite, a foil. Once upon a time, that person would have been him, but he's gone. Whoever's taken his place has some pretty big shoes to fill.
Not really. The thought almost brings a smile to my lips, but it stops-- just before the muscles in my face can receive the signal.
I'm like that now-- emotionless, analytical, logical, objective. Or maybe I always have been, and I just never noticed before. I was always just focused on one thing...
A long time ago, I had a name. Now... I barely remember it. Even if my destiny or my past or whatever caught up with me, I doubt I'd recognize it until too late. It could say my name and I wouldn't respond, simply because I've grown that detached from it.
I just "am," without "being."
It's both an existence and not, a purpose and not.
One of these days...
I needed to disappear for a while. But how do you disappear in a city with millions of people going in and out everyday? It's not like anyone really remembers names or faces, but... I really needed to disappear.
So I did. How, you ask? It was easy. Easier than even I thought at first. I contradicted my very nature-- to be perfect, in the spotlight, and at the top.
I became what nobody wanted to see. Invisible. Non-existent. Not even a phantom, or a mystery.
I just wasn't.
I became a killer.
I lost the only person who meant -really meant- anything to me.
You know how they (whoever 'they' are) say: "You never know how much something means to you until it's gone?" Well I would have liked to say that it's utter bull, and that it's realistic to accept that all things come and go, nothing is forever, and what doesn't kill you makes you strong eventually.
But I can't. I took him for granted, and now... he's gone forever.
I guess you could say -in part- that he made me what I am. He'd be ashamed -no, horrified- to hear that, but it's the truth. If he were still here -still alive- then things wouldn't be like this. I'm sure of it.
It's not like I'm fooling anyone, though. There is no 'just cause' and I'm sure as hell not a martyr.
I don't look down at my victims and think about their friends or family. I don't consider what the world would be like without that person. What difference does it really make in the long run, anyway?
No one really cares.
I'm living proof. I've faded from sight, from people's minds. A long time ago --or maybe it just feels like a long time-- someone might have cared.
But not now.
I'm impassive. Indifferent. Icy.
Alone. Frozen. "I" am...
A murderer. One of these days, it'll catch up to me. Be 'it' my destiny, my fate, my karma, or the justice due to me... it'll come around. It always does.
If I'm the Harbinger of Dark, or of Death, or whatever, then I have an opposite, a foil. Once upon a time, that person would have been him, but he's gone. Whoever's taken his place has some pretty big shoes to fill.
Not really. The thought almost brings a smile to my lips, but it stops-- just before the muscles in my face can receive the signal.
I'm like that now-- emotionless, analytical, logical, objective. Or maybe I always have been, and I just never noticed before. I was always just focused on one thing...
A long time ago, I had a name. Now... I barely remember it. Even if my destiny or my past or whatever caught up with me, I doubt I'd recognize it until too late. It could say my name and I wouldn't respond, simply because I've grown that detached from it.
I just "am," without "being."
It's both an existence and not, a purpose and not.
One of these days...
