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Stitches |
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Silkdragon Member
since 2000-06-24
Posts 65 |
His throat tightened painfully as he turned to the man before him. Gazed at the stance, the haughty arrogance of it, the unbending pride. So noble.... Harsh and charismatic, ever assured... The confident warrior. The self-affirmed prince. Look at him. He does not see you. He does not care. There is no room for you in his world. On all sides, he's surrounded and filled with himself. There is no place for you inside him... He felt a painful burning in his eyes and quickly lowered his gaze. He would not cry. Tears were for weaklings; he would not break down, would not be weak. Not in front of him. Never in front of him. Slowly, he swallowed back the pain, straightened, returned his gaze to the man. The other was staring at him, met his look, black eyes piercing his soul. He did not turn away. I will face him. What does he see in me? He peered deeply, searched the man's eyes, looked for something, anything but the coldness that had always been there for him. Nothing. He felt a pressure in his chest, as though there were a giant weight on his lungs, crushing his spirit. He looked away again, trying not to care, trying not to mourn for a thousand shattered hopes, a thousand broken dreams... I wanted to meet you so much... To be with you... You'll never know...what you meant to me... He closed his eyes for a moment, cursing himself. By now he should have known he would get nothing from this man. A man he both hated and loved. He should not have expected, should have seen through what they told him... This man would never care about him, never love him. This man loved nothing but himself. He looked down at his hands, the fingers loosely laced together, and imagined, just for one moment, taking the hand of the man before him. Touching his arm, grasping his shoulder. Just reaching out to him... Just for once... And then he nearly laughed at his own foolishness. Such a daring venture would only be repaid with a curse or a blow. His fingers tightened, curling into fists, a moment of futile rage sweeping him. Then he released it on a sigh. It would do him no good, even were he to scream what he truly felt, all his disappointment, right into the other man's face. He did not want to fight now. Was tired of fighting. Tired of everything. He rose wearily to his feet, the breeze teasing his shoulder-length hair, and looked briefly into the dusking sky, wishing he could feel within himself the peace that held his surroundings. Straightening his dusty blue jacket, he prepared to go, keeping everything that burdened him deep inside and hidden. And then the man who stood beside him spoke. "You are leaving tomorrow, then?" The voice was unfeeling. He paused, wondering why the man had bothered to speak at all. "Hai." He glanced back. The other merely nodded, his expression unchanging, his cold eyes on the stars as they began to shine across the darkening sky. He hesitated, waiting to see if, perhaps, he would say something. Say anything to ease his heart, just a little. But the man only continued to watch the sky, either oblivious to the pain inside him or uncaring. He felt himself tremble with anger, with longing for the other's affection. When he spoke his voice was frigid, the words clipped and bitter. "That's it, then? This is how we leave it?" Slowly, the man turned to face him, black eyes meeting his blue ones, a faint smirk on his angular features. "What else is there to say? You expect something more from me?" Anguished fury rose in him, his vision momentarily blurring with tears before he again forced them back. His body tensed as he fought the anger, tried not to give in to it, but he could not hold it back any longer. If this was the last time he would see this man, he would make damn sure the other knew how he felt. Knew what he did to him. "I didn't expect you to say anything more, I'm not so foolish," he said, his tone low and tight. "I merely hoped, merely wished, that you might find it in yourself to make the effort. Just one word from you... Something more than you might say to a stranger... That was all I wanted." The man before him said nothing, one black eyebrow arching in what might have been scorn. He took a breath before continuing. "God, what was wrong with me? I was so excited, so nervous the first time I saw you..." He saw something like interest flare in the other man's eyes then. "I was finally meeting you. All of my life, do you know how I hoped for that? Everyone who talked about you told me how great you were. How you were such a warrior, so proud and strong. I wanted to be just like you. I dreamt of meeting you so many times, imagining what you'd say to me, the things we'd tell each other... There was no one I held higher than you." He watched as a faint, arrogant smile crossed the other man's lips. When he next spoke, his voice was hard, and he forced it to stay steady. "Until I got to know you, that is. You were nothing like I thought you'd be. I wanted to admire you, but there was nothing to admire." At this, the other man looked up sharply, anger crossing his face. "What?" "It's true, you were everything they said you'd be. Strong, proud, a great warrior. And that's all. All I found was a man so absorbed with himself, with beating everyone else, that he couldn't see beyond it." His voice was becoming harsher the longer he spoke, trembling with anger. "You don't care about anything, there's nothing but cold pride inside of you. They told me you were proud. What they didn't tell me is that you're also cruel, arrogant, and uncaring. A selfish bastard who-" "Shut up!"the man shouted at him. His body was tense, muscles standing out visibly in his arms and neck. "You have no idea what you're talking about! What do you want from me? I have given you everything you needed!" The younger man's hands tightened into fists as years of rage exploded to the surface. "Everything I needed! You never gave me anything but your hatred! When you weren't beating me up, you were ignoring me! God, what about it was so hard? Why do you hate me so much!" Twisting around, he walked away from the man a few steps, then whirled to face him again, tears he refused to shed sparkling in his blue eyes. "All I ever wanted was for you to care about me! Is that so much to ask? You are my father!" The man glared at the boy in front of him, anger rushing through his body, screaming at him to silence the fool. Hurt him, crush him, destroy him utterly. How dare he speak to him that way? The boy had no idea what he had gone through, what his life had been like. His immediate instinct was to beat him senseless and then leave him lying there, broken and bleeding. He turned away for a moment. He had been raised since birth to fight and kill, not to talk. The instincts would not die. Still, he swallowed down the brutal urges, knowing that in his heart, hurting the boy was the last thing he wanted. He shook with fury, gritting his teeth, as he looked at the young man again. The light of the rising moon sparkled off tears in the boy's eyes, and he stared for a moment. Then the automatic reproof came out of his mouth, laced with the scorn that was so typical of him. "Stop whimpering, boy! I will not have you break down like a weakling in my presence." The boy turned his back to him for several seconds, obviously trying to bring himself under control. When he faced him again, his cheeks were red with shame. For long moments there was nothing said, the wind the only voice between them. Finally, the young man spoke, whispering. "I am sorry. I know it is not fitting for a warrior to do such a thing..." There was another long pause, and then the boy straightened his clothing once more, adjusting the sword on his back. When he spoke next, his voice could barely be heard. "I would have done anything...to make you proud of me... But not even Mother could hold your affection.... Sionara, Otousan..." Slowly, he began to walk away, heading down the narrow, overgrown path with heavy steps. His father watched him go, feeling a strange pain mix with the anger in his heart. Why do you do this to me, boy? Why do you make me feel this way? You don't understand, I wasn't raised as you were. It is against everything I know to let myself be close to you. He thought of his own father, glaring down at him. He was not to show any emotion but pride in who he was, who his people were. It was the mark of a weakling, and he was a prince. He had to be the strongest and the best, in everything. His people were a race of warriors and conquerors... Weakness was scorned, love and affection were not talked about. They were not even felt, for the most part. His father had certainly never loved him. He'd never known his mother. And then, after the death of his father, he was raised by someone else entirely, even more bent on conquest than his own people. He was raised to fight. He had lived, breathed, and fed on destruction. He did not know anything else. True, he was different now, but it still didn't seem natural for him to feel anything but anger, much less express those feelings. It is not who I am. My father would despise me. He glanced at the boy, slowly putting distance between them, and anger flashed through him. He jogged after him, the wind sliding through his spiked black hair. "Tomaru! You cannot leave like this, boy," he called to him, his voice harsh. "I won't let you run away from me." The young man, hardly more than a child, paused, his back straight and stiff, not looking at him. After a moment, though, he turned around and met his gaze. "What is there left for me to stay for? A father who cares nothing for me... Beyond my uses as a punching bag to further improve his skill." His father stepped back slightly, a silent gasp parting his lips. The bitterness in the words stunned him, and he was astonished by the hurt they caused. Then anger rose, anger to blind him to the pain of the truth. "Are you such a child that you start blubbering if you don't receive a few pretty words?"he snarled. "You are a weakling who is not fit to claim kinship with me. Pick yourself up, boy, you are shaming me." The stricken look on the young man's face bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He had not really meant to say the words, but it was natural for him to be scornful, whether it reflected his true thoughts or was merely a cover to mask deeper feelings. The boy took a staggered breath before speaking again. "Why do you do this to me? What have I ever done, that you hate me so much? Was it such a crime to hope for your affection?"he cried, his voice rising. "To hope that you might love me? I am your son!"he screamed, angry red staining his cheeks. Then he dropped his gaze, allowing his hair to fall and shield his face. His father did not speak, his chest tightening painfully as he looked down at him. What is the matter with you, boy? Why can't you see that I am not like you are? He studied the young man before him. The hair was shielding his face, but in his mind's eye, he saw the boy's angular features, high cheekbones, sharp jaw, arched eyebrows. They looked so much alike. And so different. The boy's hair and eye-color came from his mother, matched hers exactly. He felt pain twist his insides. This was his son. It is against who I am, against my people, to be near to you. You should know that I love you! I love you... He shook his head a little, black eyebrows drawing downward angrily. He could not be what his son needed. His people did not behave that way, they... His people were dead. The realization slowly came to him. His father was dead. There was nothing left of the civilization he was meant to rule. He was still trapped by something that no longer existed. They were all dead. But his son was alive. He looked again at the boy standing with his head bowed, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. Eighteen years old, and already a mighty warrior. But a warrior who cared. He was sensitive and friendly...intelligent... A little shy. The man's lips turned upward in a faint smile at that. The boy thought he had not noticed him. He had, in fact, kept him under close watch without being obvious about it. And what he had seen, he took pride in. He was proud of his son. His thoughts turned to the battle where the boy had been struck down. It had been then that he had truly realized, fully acknowledged, how much he cared about his son. He had been out of his mind with rage and fear, desperate to save him, nearly getting himself killed in the process... Hadn't he proven his love then? He glanced at the boy's bowed head. Apparently not. I love you, you fool. And I love your mother.... A painful sigh escaped him. It was so hard... He had never been able to express what he felt as so many people did. To reach out to anyone was an alien concept. Pride, yes. Arrogance, yes. Contempt, yes... But affection? He glanced down uncomfortably, then looked up again when he heard an odd sound from the boy. The young man still had his head down and had turned partially away from him. He frowned, a strange feeling sweeping him when he realized what it was he had heard. "You are crying," he said sharply. His son stiffened, then moved so his back was facing him. "No,"he said, but his voice was thick and strained. "I would not cry over this..." Grabbing the boy's shoulder, he pulled him around, then took his chin in his hand and turned his face to the moonlight when he tried to look away. The tracks of his tears glistened in the silver light, and his eyes shown brightly. "Don't lie to me, boy," the man whispered, but now his voice was strangely gentle. His son's face flushed painfully as another tear slowly trailed down his cheek, dampening the gloved hand that gripped his chin. His father felt a strange twisting in his heart at the sight, and his grip softened. You can do this thing, he thought to himself. Hesitantly, almost afraid, he dropped his hand to the boy's shoulder, pausing there for a moment. Then, slowly, he pulled his son against his chest, holding him in his embrace. He stiffened in shock as his father drew him into his arms, standing frozen, his hands hovering in the air uncertainly for several moments, as though he didn't know what to do. Then he shuddered, his arms going around the man's back as he held him tightly, choking back the sobs that threatened for fear of ruining the moment. He closed his eyes, burying his face in his father's strong shoulder as his fingers fisted in the man's black shirt. As his son rested his head on his shoulder, he could feel him shaking, and his throat tightened. He could sense the tears the boy was holding back, and his heart softened. "It's all right," he said softly, his voice rasping slightly. "Cry." The boy hesitated a moment, as though unsure he had heard him correctly. And then it was as if a damn had burst, and he poured out all the pain that had been inside of him for eighteen years, sobbing against his father's chest. The man felt his own eyes burn, though he still could not bring himself to actually shed the tears. He only held his son as his anguish was finally released, praying that this would be enough. He did not know what else he could do. "Gomen nasai," he whispered, his throat aching. After a time, the boy quieted, pulling back from his father and looking at the ground, clearly embarrassed by his outburst. "Sumimasen. Gomen, Otousan..." He frowned at his son. "Don't be foolish," he said, consciously keeping his voice gentle. They sat together silently, gazing at the stars, each feeling a new peace in their hearts. Looking at his son, the man only cursed the time he had wasted. He would never be able to be as open with his feelings as so many others were, but he hoped that the boy would understand. He would try. The boy looked at his father, feeling a new warmth in his heart. The man did care about him. He could forgive him for the past, and accept who he was now. It would be all right. Returning his gaze to the stars, he whispered, "Arigatou, Otousan..." After a moment of silence the man said, his voice low and quiet, "Hai..." Hai - Yes Sionara, Otousan - Goodbye, Father Tomaru - Stop Gomen nasai - I'm so sorry; I'm very sorry Sumimasen. Gomen, Otousan - Excuse me; pardon me. I'm sorry, Father Arigatou, Otousan - Thank you, Father Owari - End [This message has been edited by Silkdragon (edited 06-28-2000).] |
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Alwye
Moderator
Member Elite
since 1999-06-16
Posts 3850In the space between moments |
Wow Erin....this really struck a chord in me. The pain the boy felt and the coldness of the father, everything...it nearly brought me to tears...a very powerful, descriptive, and moving piece. You, my friend, have incredible talent. But then again, I've always known that.  < !signature-->*Krista Knutson* "Cherish your vision; Cherish your ideals; Cherish the music that stirs in your heart, the beauty that forms in your mind, the loveliness that drapes your purest thoughts. If you remain true to them, your world will at last be built." ~James Allen~ "We've made houses for hatred...it's time we made a place where people's souls may be seen and made safe"...~Jewel~ [This message has been edited by Alwye (edited 06-27-2000).] |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Wow, Erin... I've read a lot of stories in this forum... and I must say that I think this is probably the most evocatively written one I've had the pleasure of reading. You've brought these characters to life with stunning power. When I read that the man is the boy's father I could feel an emotional blow... Your character's developed well, and rationaly.. I loved this Erin, this is great!  Abrahm Simons "Keep on dreamin' boy 'cause when you stop dreaming it's time to die" - Blind Melon |
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Dawn Eclipse Senior Member
since 2000-01-31
Posts 637The Horsehead Nebula |
Yay!!! This was incredible! Most likely the best story I've read in a long time Erin. whahahahah... you brought it into life, and I could see it before my eyes... Wonderful job! To dream the impossible dream To fight the unbeatable foe To bear with unbearable sorrow To run where the brave dare not go To right the un |
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LoveBug
Moderator
Member Elite
since 2000-01-08
Posts 4697 |
Wow... this is so beautiful, my friend. It really touched me. I'll be anxiously awating your next piece. "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." -Oscar Wilde "The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief" -Shakespea |
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Ruby dagger Member
since 1999-08-01
Posts 76Wyoming, MN, U.S.A |
Erin, you are a bery powerful writter. Keep writting great stories! Luv Kelly "At the right time and place, a question was more deadly than any sword." -Mercedes Lackey |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
I just want to add my applause, however belatedly! Well done! (And thanx for the definitions... I uhh... forgot all the Japanese I used to know... LOL) domo arigato, Christopher |
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Munda Member Elite
since 1999-10-08
Posts 3544The Hague, The Netherlands |
This is most certainly one of the best stories I read. Very well written ! I felt part of your story, feeling the hope, sadness, pride and all other emotions you so well described. Stunning ! |
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Silkdragon Member
since 2000-06-24
Posts 65 |
I'd just like to thank everyone so much for their responses to this story. I'm glad I was able to touch people with this, it's something that spoke strongly to me. Thanks again! Silkdragon |
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jbouder Member Elite
since 1999-09-18
Posts 2534Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash |
Erin: I liked this too. I would have liked it better if there was more connecting me with the characters in the story. I think sentimentality works best when you feel as though you know the characters in a narrative. That is why I think this would make a good chapter in a longer story. Develop the son's character ... tell us more about the person he was before getting to know his father, more about his struggle to please his father after getting to know him, and maybe include a little more about the mother. I'm also a sucker for a couple good fight scenes (dear old dad IS the best warrior around, right? Why do you tease me so?  ).I suppose I am suggesting that you expand the story considerably. You are a talented story teller ... I hope to read more of your work soon. Jim |
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Silkdragon Member
since 2000-06-24
Posts 65 |
Jim: I understand entirely what your saying, and, in fact, this story really is more of an excerpt from a longer story than anything else. I write things that are much too long to post here in prose, considering the word limit. I'm currently writing a story that will soon hit 80 pages. Anyway, I know what you mean. If I were to expand this story, this scene probably would be a chapter in it. Thanks for your comments. Erin |
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