Post by ѕωιƒтƒαℓcση on Dec 3, 2017 20:52:27 GMT -5
--this is my expirmental fanfic, that is also very, very casual, so there won't be any fans or reviews or anything like that. Just me, here, writing things.
The way this fanfic will be laid out with be a bit...different. It's told in hundred word increments, no more, no less. It's a love story, this fic. A love story between a ghost and the moon. Because I don't want to have to wrangle with code any more than I need to, I'm limiting this to one page, so everything will be here, on this front page.
And, there will be no fans. You can still post here, but I've started to realize that having a list of fans freaks me out a little bit. I start doubting if I'm not a good writer because I don't have a lot, or if I'm disappointing those who never post with my writing, so for this, I'm sticking with no fan list.
Also, because everything is on this front page, the credit for the layout goes to Brownie, and the banner I made using Canva, with a stock photo I have permission to use.
That's it! I hope y'all enjoy.
The way this fanfic will be laid out with be a bit...different. It's told in hundred word increments, no more, no less. It's a love story, this fic. A love story between a ghost and the moon. Because I don't want to have to wrangle with code any more than I need to, I'm limiting this to one page, so everything will be here, on this front page.
And, there will be no fans. You can still post here, but I've started to realize that having a list of fans freaks me out a little bit. I start doubting if I'm not a good writer because I don't have a lot, or if I'm disappointing those who never post with my writing, so for this, I'm sticking with no fan list.
Also, because everything is on this front page, the credit for the layout goes to Brownie, and the banner I made using Canva, with a stock photo I have permission to use.
That's it! I hope y'all enjoy.
тнe ғιc
I do not remember dying.
I remember all that comes before. I remember rain soaking into my fur and mud beneath my paws and falling.
I remember the water closing over my head.
It’s oddly peaceful, drowning. At first I fought, against the pain, but then, there was no pain. Only a blank, peaceful emptiness. No pain. No fear. Just me and the water pulling me down.
I do not remember when I stopped fighting. I do not remember dying.
But I remember after.
Not in StarClan, not in the Dark Forest, but back on the shore.
Alive no longer.
-
I am alone.
No ancestors come, no lost friends or relatives find me to guide me on a path of stars. No leering villain of nursery stories comes to take me to a forest of no stars either. I am simply, here, dead, and alone.
The storm rages on.
On the third day, Tulipfrost drowns much the same way I did, and on the eighth, Quickfoot slips and hits his head and bleeds out on the stone.
I selfishly hope to see them, and that they will join me in this lonely state.
But they don’t.
I am still alone.
-
Although it is still raining, I feel no cold, and no wetness sinks into my pelt. I walk our territory, and no mud sticks to my paws, and when I step into the floods, the water simply flows through me as if I am not there at all.
And I’m not, I suppose.
I watch my clan. They’re too busy to mourn me and Tulipfrost and Quickfoot. We have to abandon our camp when the flood waters got too high, traveling the slick stone pathways above the beach, to get to high ground.
It’s how I died.
One wrong step.
-
With every flash of light out of the corner of my eye, I wonder if this is it.
If my ancestors in StarClan have finally realized that they never came to get me, and had left my soul behind.
But it never is. It’s the glint of sunlight on water or the strike of lightning when the storm inevitably starts once again. And every time, I have to wonder.
Which would be worse; to keep hoping and never be found, to be left a wayward soul on earth, or to admit that the ancestors have forgotten about me after all?
-
I watch my clanmates. They move from place to place, desperately trying to get further away from the rising flood waters without having to climb the slick, sheer cliff paths that took my life.
I watch everyone, but mostly, I watch my sister. Deerleap lost both her sister and her mate over only a few short days, and though her every motion is full of grief, she wraps herself around her kits and keeps them happy.
She tells them stories. Stories that I remember from our kithoods.
Of magical gardens and blood roses, of winged warriors.
Of the moon.
-
She tells her kits the story of the beautiful silver she-cat who walks across the starry sky. She tells her kits about how this she-cat was chosen by StarClan to live in the night sky, to watch over her clanmates below.
She tells her kits, tells me, about how this she-cat exists in a realm between those of the living and the dead, and about how although she may be lonely, she would not change her choice. She protects us from the creatures of the night that used to walk this world, and we should always remember her for that.
