|Frozen April Moon
Author: candelight PM
Oneshot. Checkmate fiction. In Wisconsin, Danny still suffers his loss, as well as his own gnawing fear and uncertainty. But, in Amity Park, Maddie Fenton feels her own pain over the disappearance over her lost baby-as well as her desire to get him back.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Family - Maddie F. - Words: 5,552 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 15 - Follows: 1 - Published: 01-17-10 - Status: Complete - id: 5675549
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The Frozen April Moon:
Irises in Ice
I know the afterthought is just a bit odd, but something about it just seemed to fit. Irises-like the hue in Maddie's eyes-are a springtime flower, which represent elegance in some countries-or the blessings that come to those who have faith.
As for the title….I have NO idea where it came from. No comprende. Zip. Nada. Goose eggs.
Still, as part of my promise to have all four of these fictions completed, I would like to offer you Maddie's perspective on things. She's a very interesting character, isn't she….?
Ahem. *Goes red.* Let us move on, shall we…?
By the way, happy MLK day. (It could be July for all I know when the person in question reads this, but who cares?)
This fiction is dedicated to, hmm, let me think….pearl84, because she, oh, I dunno, wrote the Checkmate saga in the first place? ^^
(Sorry….feeling rather sarcastic today.)
And, of course-Invader Johnny-the only voter for this story. Thank you, my friend. (By the way, Grim and Mandy is a wicked cool couple. Ember/Amorpho…..whoa. That's kinda interesting. Sora and Kairi are very cool, too. I love that game. ^^)
Well, enough chit-chat, folks. Let's just get started on this piece, shall we…?
(A reviewer asked, "Why all the quotes?" I responded, "Why not?")
"Some say the world will end in fire.
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of love
Is also great
And would suffice."
Regret could almost be called a funny thing.
....for those special few people with a really, really sick sense of humor.
I managed a bitter attempt at a smile at the thought-which only resulted as a slight twitching from the corners of my mouth-and awkwardly began to pull my teal hood over my head. I had to roll my eyes at the difficulty my still cast clad arm was giving me at-I couldn't wait to get the stupid thing off, first chance I got.
To my surprise, a hand tentatively reached my shoulder, and then, another readily assisted in aiding me pull my my goggled hood over my eyes just as Jack bent down to kiss me slightly.
"Made ya look," he teased, the small, goofy grin on his face slowly beginning to dissipate as worry began to dilute his expression.
"Mads, you sure you're okay for this...?"
With a smile-a true smile-beginning to crease its folds on my face for the first time that morning, I awkwardly stood on tiptoe to playfully-but sweetly-kiss the man I loved, managing another smile that again, came easier then the predecessor.
Some days are....easier, then others. I think remaining busy helps greatly.
Still, I gestured at the window, towards Jazz slowly backing out of the driveway in the family car....(Which was still marvelously ghost equipped, but much less so then our oversized, gadget laden gas guzzler.)
Our little girl spotted us, cast a small smile and a wave, then slowly began to pull out of the drive before readily vrooming away into the distance.
Watching her go, I slowly lowered my hand, then turned to face Jack.
She was heading over to Tucker's again. Biting my lip, I nonetheless keep the smile as much as I can as I manage a brisk nod, and a clapping of my hands....with some difficulty.
The two of us were readying ourselves for the day, and I had already shouted down his protests of me recontinuing even the most basics of ghost hunting last night.
Unnecessary though his concern was-for the two of us had always been a team, the thought was rather touching, and I felt my heart flutter, rather like when I had been a college student, and had met the absentminded and free spirited clown I'd come to deeply love. I guess some things never change.
Finally, after an almost awkward pause of silence, I manage to speak.
"Jack, sweetie....we've been over this last night," I quietly comment, my eyes flickering ever so slightly.
"...and again....and again...and again: I keep telling you, I'm fine. This is just a recon trip-we only need to ascertain that there are still ghosts out there who can actually convey anything about the phantom boy....or Danny."
At the name, I can feel the large aching callus in my heart cringe inwardly, but this is one time I can't afford to let Jack prevent me from accomplishing something so simple as a routine exercise just because of a simple handicap.
"If worst comes to worst, we'll fight. The both of us," I added, watching my husband's mouth open to interrupt.
My voice lowers. I hope it doesn't begin to shake.
"Jack, sweetheart-you have to let me go with you," I pleaded, now feeling inwardly, quite sick at the still present glance of uncertainty in my husband's eyes.
Feeling a new tactic switch back on, I stare at him intently, being careful not to break gaze.
"Jack, I can't let you go in alone, you know," I mention off-handedly, still casting my gaze at him. "What if a ghost really does show up? Or.... Phantom himself?"
Women don't need a remote control-we have the actual control. I continued to look at Jack, and was well pleased to find that the thought had made its desired mark by making Jack twitch.
I decide to up the ante as much as I can. There's no sense in wasting something so perfectly valuable as time. I cast a glance outside, and then, back at Jack.
"You'll need help just as surely as I will, hon," I say softly, my voice reverberating in the sudden stillness. A teasing smile of my own entered my expression.
"Danny...needs us, sweetheart. And..."
I wince at the burning memory-the one ablaze with sheer shame-that had been transfigured just a few months ago by my one and only little girl:
"...I need you, too."
I take a deep breath.
"So does Jazz. And for them-it's just you and me, hon-and I need to know something."
I tilt my head slightly to the side.
"Who's going to be....my right hand man when I need him most? And....well, where can I find him?"
I staggered back; Jack had leapt forward a few inches in just a few split seconds before yanking me into a hug which I gladly returned, albeit somewhat awkwardly. Darn cast. Darn malfunction.
Still, it was quite easy to forget those wayfaring thoughts as Jack cheerily as well as proudly drew himself up to his full height.
"Me!" he exclaimed, being careful not to overly shake me as usual when he grasped at my shoulders, the characteristically goofy grin that I loved so dearly flashing onto his own face.
"Look no further, sweetie-I'm your helpin' set o hands, here!"
Before I could say anything else, the man I loved most was optimistically bounding out the front door, brandishing silver keys as he did so.
He yanked his head around, expression exuberant.
"Equipment's in the RV, squeakycheeks-so let's bust ourselves some big time ghost butt!"
I stood there blankly for a minute or two, before a grin burst through the dam at last.
The bid lug. Feeling my heart twinge with affection, I hurried out the door, carelessly slamming the door shut as I did so with my foot.
Through Jack Fenton's occasionally childish perspective, the world was an infinitely hopeful place. There was no need to wait 'just a minute' for practically anything-particularly if he believed it provided any good-significant or insignificant it was.
A lump rose to my throat at the thought.
.....that was...certainly something Danny had inherited from Jack.
"Just one minute, young man...."
"You are not leaving this house without eating breakfast first."
As Jack drives the RV around the town perimeter, I close my eyes, and inwardly shudder at the faint memory.
Was that all I had been able to help my own son with when it had been so obvious-by just one look at his pained blue orbs-that he'd been hurting so much? So badly?
But I had been worried sick about my little girl. I couldn't even get my child to open up to me about it, much to my distress. Especially after my son had finally ignited what could have only been a small portion of the gnawing, raging helplessness inside of himself-by a screaming fest at Vlad Masters.
I'd never seen Danny lose control like that before. It was...petrifying to watch. And to listen.
Much to my regret, I begin to shake slightly as Jack takes one glance at me, pulls the RV into a stop, and me wordlessly into a hug as the tears come, once again.
Danny had fainted himself some time later after Jazz's own attack, after a good deal of fatigue, exhaustion, and slight malnutrition.
I had been worried for him. Had Jazz's matter had not been so serious, I could have helped him more that day....as well as on the others.....!
Unquestionably, it had been one of the worse days of my life-the worst following up just so shortly afterwards.
I crumple into a mess of tears, the bitter, shattered tightness beginning to convulse in my stomach and chest cavity again.
He'd been in so much pain....!
What if he'd been trying to tell me something that day? Had I simply not understood?
Dread pools rapidly into my stomach as I suppress a sob, Jack silently holding me against his shoulder for a minute or so.
....or had I just not....listened?
I hiccup at the pain rippling throughout my body, rubbing at my red eyes as I do so.
Danny always did have an awful habit of never talking about things that bothered him around those he loved.
.....especially those he loved. I swallowed, again, trying to steady myself.
Normally, these days, the tears didn't come so rapidly, anymore. I guess it's just a bad day.
Jack was never one for letting people see him all out cry, but I still hear it, sometimes. Maybe it's in bed, when I can feel him begin to shake next to me, and the next thing I know, Jack finally breaks down.
Regardless, he's never stopped looking for his little boy. And the hope hasn't yet faded from Jack's eyes.
Nor from mine, I hope.
After managing to pull myself together somewhat, I manage a smile and a few iridescent words.
Again uncertain, Jack restarts the RV, and I stare out the dashboard once again, looking past at the springtime buds that have just opened up their full cheer to the sunshine.
As the car thumps along, I continue to gaze incomprehensibly outside, keeping my blaster close at hand.
It would be easy enough to handle with one hand, were we to actually see any signs of specter activity at hand.
Speaking of which, I need to stay focused. Sometimes, Jack has a tendency to mi-
I start slightly, as the ghost sonar begins to wildly beep in accordance to an almost unearthly echo.
Jack casts a small smile at me as he wrenches the car to a stop.
"You okay, hon?"
I nod, kicking out the car door with ease.
With a smirk, Jack follows, his bazooka set on hardcore "liquefy."
"Then let's ROCK, BABY!"
I lied. I hate to lie.
Still, it actually worked, much to my incredubility. Trying to fool the other in our partnership is rather like planning a surprise birthday party for a mind reader. You can try and struggle-but it's not gonna happen.
My thoughts still race accordance with instinct as I fire not quite as indiscriminately as Jack, managing to cast down three seriously revolting, screaming spectors-straight into miscroscopic holes of the Ghost Dimension.
My eyes narrow slightly as Jack flashes me a high five, then continues to fire at the sky, where what looks like a fanged, one winged piranha is screeching its pale challenge.
Alright. He'd asked for it.
I take aim, scowling fiercely.
But the thoughts keep coming, in spite of the blasts raging around the two of us.
....why didn't I notice before it was too late...?
With a grunt, I dodge a swooping, shrieking, ghostly wombat before diving at it with my protocharger, a cry of my own vacating myself.
Or why couldn't I protect Danny from Phantom, regardless of the situation at hand?
We continued to battle. The ghosts still around this part of the minority were fairly weak, but they still refused to go down without a blistering comeback.
And, much to our disappointment, we found that none of them were intelligent enough to actually vocalize anything at all.
Therefore, it became an all out shooting ground that morning as Jack and I again and again rushed forwards, as one.
But still, I was distracted. And I assure you, that's not something you wish to consider doing, in our career.
Regardless, it seemed almost hopeless NOT to do so.
....when you kept hoping that the ghost who may or may not be holding your little one in shackles?
In a cage?
......in a dungeon?
My blaster tore through no less then five consecutive ghosts at once, sending them speeding directly into the Ghost Zone.
After patrolling the East side of Amity, and fairly satisfied that we'd driven off and exterminated most of the ghosts still running amok in the area in question, we settled for a short break: For Jack, coffee and doughnuts...quite a few, by the looks of the sugar still covering his face...and, for me, a croissant.
But I couldn't touch it as I mused, inhaled and exhaled deeply, and thought for a minute.
Danny disappeared three months ago. Before that awful, awful morning had come upon us, there had been a few incidents….
It was enough to make the mother in me want to cry again, but the hunter
On Danny's birthday…Jazz had collapsed. The memory made me cringe, and I moaned slightly as I began to rock back and forth in my seat, feeling sick to my stomach.
How that had occurred….or what had been the maelstrom that had triggered her attacks in the first place….well, not even the best of the Amity MDs could provide an acute explanation. Only theories.
But Jack and I were so relieved to have, at the very least, one of our children home.
But it's just not the same as having both my little girl AND my little boy.
Hearing a shaky sigh vacate myself, I close my eyes and frown slightly, growing aware that I was biting my lip as I did so.
Danny….took Jazzy's pain harder than anyone else. I groan.
He'd been hurting so much, and, preoccupied as we had been with Jazz, I hadn't been able to give him the support he had undoubtedly needed.
But never knew how to ask for.
Nonetheless, I should have guessed that Danny must have been hurting hard enough to be bleeding on the inside.
My throat tightens again.
The Wisconsin Ghost's scarlet eyes loomed in my dreams, and I had to bite past the faucet of tears ready to stream down my face as the all too familiar burning, gaping hole in my chest cavity began to blister again.
Think logically. Think logically. Think logically.
Danny had been most depressed. He'd also refrained from eating, a great deal of the time.
Hands curled around my hot little cup, I chose to say nothing for awhile, still staring at the glove compartment in front of me, where I knew IT still lay.
There was no point in tugging it out once again. After fainting the first time I'd read it through, the horrible, ghastly words had been burned into my heart and mind, and I knew them quite well.
Although Jack has crushed the note on numerous occasions, and its seen more then its far share of tears and stains-there, it still remains:
The parting letter.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I really hate to do this, especially when you guys have enough worries as it is right now. First, I just want to tell you both that you're the greatest parents a kid could have and because of that, I've always tried to make you guys proud of me; I hope I did that, at least once. Please, don't think for a second that this is your fault somehow, because it's not. I'm leaving because it's something I have to do. I'm sorry I can't explain but there are things I've decided to keep personal. Don't worry about me though; thanks to you guys I'm pretty good at watching out for myself. I want to thank you for always showing me your care and for everything you've taught me. I know that without those things I'd be in trouble; without you, mom and dad, I wouldn't be who I am now. Please don't tell Jazz about me until she gets better and take care of her; she needs you two a lot more then she thinks. I love you both very much; please, don't forget that. I know I won't forget how much you guys love me.
Your son forever,
I rub my eyes.
The handwriting looked remarkably like Danny's. Was it, truly?
I frown quizzically as Jack helps himself to what might've been his fifth donut. Hard to say.
Vlad could have been on the mark about a ghost overshadowing Danny to leave those letters behind. Once the ghost in question had seen how Danny usually wrote, overshadowing him to mimic the selfsame writing style could prove very....
I'm gripping my hand so hard into a fist that my croissant has now been completely crushed and wrangled into a mess.
....whichever ghost decided to pull this off, it was dead once I got my hands on it....!
Or...well...it would be...again.
The thought of a filthy, loathsome ghost lurking inside the body of my child-of someone I loved....
I crunch my coffee cup into a crumpled mess of crushed styrofoam. Jack gives me a curious look.
"....break time's over, sweetheart. We need to get moving."
Some days, it's bad.
And some days, it's even worse.
As the RV roars down the road, and nearby people dive for cover on the sidewalk, I acknowledge the fact readily.
One night...it had been more then I could stand. The overbearing sadness had been clawing at me with potent exactation, and I'd felt like howling at the misery of it all.
I had gone to Danny's room that night-where almost nothing had been touched. Almost.
TJ-Danny's little dalmatian puppy-still comes here to sleep, at night. The reassuring scent is what comforts him, and, well...I won't deny the same for myself.
I had only meant to sit in Danny's room for a minute or two, breathing in the familiar, friendly air that Danny had cascaded himself around for so long.
And, on the bed, pressed against the soft, faint memory, I guess it did prove to be a bit much.
I fell asleep.
And, as much as Jazz and Jack shoot me pitying, uncertain glances when I do mention it-I know what occurred that night.
Danny came back home.
To Amity Park.
To his family.
And, to me.
I saw him.
I saw him, with my own eyes, in a sea of shadows. He started slightly as I'd stared at him, transfixed in paralyzed shock-and, Danny Fenton had slowly turned around, eyes cast at the ground, lip being bitten.
I hadn't been able to speak, nor move, in the onslaught of the deafening silence.
His crystalline blue orbs were cast with an almost inordinate, gentle look....with the smallest of slight smiles.
But both were shot through with quiet, but nonetheless potent-pain.
My own heart had rippled as I attempted to speak-attempted to move.
Couldn't speak, couldn't move.
That was when he slowly made his way towards me, floor absolutely invisible from his feet-and I had to wildly ask myself where he was getting
support to walk on in the midst of the blinding array.
Danny bent down, eyes still transfixed by sadness as he bent down....
....and, every sensation very real, too real-unhealthily, convincingly, alarmingly real-in a slight, cool brush, kissed me on the cheek, my heart almost fading out from beneath my ribcage at the sensation.
It was then that he'd withdrawn, eyes still downcast as he mouthed something at last.
"I love you, Mom…."
My own heart beginning to quake, every beat now resonating with a labored, painful thump, and a joyful crease of uncertainty, I had at last, found my voice as well:
" I love you too, Danny."
Danny had drawn away as if he'd been electrocuted, eyes enormous, and hand pressed against his mouth.
For a minute or two, we simply stared at one another, caught in stillness once more.
Then, Danny's eyes had filled with tears, much to my regret. The tears were already spilling from my own eyes, and I attempted to stagger up....
...but to no avail.
Danny moved away, gliding in an almost dreamlike motion as he nimbly fluttered away, one hand pressed over his heart, as if he were faintly attempting to hold together what was left of a few, broken shards.
Pearl like orbs had fallen from his eyes like broken stars, and they disappeared from sight after fading away from below the child.
And the boy had stepped back into the folds of darkness, as I stretched out my fingertips for him....
...and, I'd woken myself up, heart still pounding, and I began to hear TJ barking like a maniac for whatever reason on the flight of steps outside the room.
That hadn't been my only encounter with Danny ever since he'd left.
I was sure of it.
While Jack busily set pins into a small map of locations we'd already swept through, I halfheartedly went through a small guide on ghosts, frowning slightly.
I had read this book over in over three hundred procedures in my career as a ghost hunter. I think if it had anything new to offer me-despite desperate hours spent feverishly skimming through woebegone pages to search for any clues on where Phantom might be hiding-it would have done so by now.
I dimly reflect on another...occasion, I had seen my little boy.
And I had, again, been asleep.
Though it hadn't been so much as a cry and a yipping dog that had awoken me as...something else had done.
In a vertex of green, I had seen my child, hair tousled, with dark, ruby red stains across his front, breathing erratic-
And, that was when the screaming had began.
In the sickening rush, my eyes had widened, and the wind had faded from my shock-absolute, total, annihilating shock raced throughout my body.
Every thought that I might have had in my subconscious faded almost instantly.
For the Wisconsin Ghost had been cradling a small body in his hands, pausing....
.....and turned his scarlet orbs upon mine.
I had staggered in the void of broken doors, swaying violently.
The ghost held my beautiful, baby boy.
The ghost held my beautiful, baby boy, who was not moving.
And covered head to foot in scarlet stains, as well as an expression of utmost agony carved into his features.
It was then that I ran forwards, not caring if I was unarmed, not caring that the specter was casting me an almost bored look, and far from caring that his hand had lazily risen to strike.
Sprinting, staggering, wild eyed, I had begun to dash forwards, before the haunt carelessly sent me back in a rush of energy.
With a cry, I'd fallen back, gasping my useless mantra over and over, desperate to obtain my little boy.
My Danny was alive, ....
A sickening thud sent me reeling as I continued to shriek into the air.
"GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!GIVE HIM BACK!
GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!"
The ghost had given me a look dripping in disdain, with a slight curve around his mouth.
A humorless laugh escaped him, ringing in the empty foyer.
"Do you honestly wish to save him….?"
The ivory fangs glinted slightly in the dim lighting, the man chuckling idly once again.
"A very sweet sediment, my good lady....."
Nausea replaced his mocking features, and the ghost looked nothing short of sickened as his simpering look transformed to a cold glare.
"You haven't the audacity to save yourself, you stupid woman-much less anyone else!"
I fell backwards, despite my efforts. The sprite continued to glare at me, one hand that was now currently encircling Danny's still motionless body now beginning to spark a chorus of crackling, spitting, blinding white, and hair thin flames.
The man's face broke into a sneer.
"How sad. It appears I am not the only one unable to let go."
What did he mean by that...?
Maddie had managed a gasp as she stumbled forwards, eyes imploring as she reached, futile a prospect though it was-for Danny.
A pained whisper stole past my lips.
"W-why?" I choked out, the tears continuing to fall with great gusto.
The ghost's face molded into cold indifference at the word.
"Because you couldn't give him what he needed."
The Wisconsin ghost threw me a positively filthy look after tenderly cradling the still motionless Danny Fenton in his gloved arms.
Another smirk besieged his cold, sharply cut his features, like frost in bitterly cold, dry air.
"You heard me, you wench," he hissed, crimson orbs flashing once again.
"You couldn't help the boy when he needed you the most. When you could have saved him, well...."
He shrugged, and simply tugged Danny's still motionless body towards himself.
"You wanted me to let go? Very well, then, very well....but, face it, dearheart."
The ghost bent down to my still paralyzed body, richly amused expression on his face as he whispered ever so slightly in my ear.
"You're a failure."
That night wasn't the first that I awoke in tears, though it was the first I'd terrified Jack with hysteric tears and sobs.
After a good six hours go by, the two of us wearily drag ourselves home, each one protruding an arm around the other.
But my thoughts still remained elsewhere, that day.
Whether I was to be found watching old home videos of my family or going through old photo albums again, the pain never quite went away.
I guess mainly it has its due from the words whispered by the specter Jack had dubbed as the "Wisconsin Ghost" in that ghastly nightmare.
Judging from just how much they had hurt....and how they had cut into me like nothing else had ever done......
...maybe it was the truth...?
....I wanted to die, seeing Danny so broken.
I wanted to die, I wanted to die,
I wanted to die, die, die, die.
But my baby is alive. I can feel it.
Even at the end of the day when everything else seems to reconfigurate back to square one, that's still something. And that's the feeling of hope that my son will one day be returned to us. Where he belongs.
Phantom was always such a shady creature. I don't trust him.
As Jack awkwardly helps me attempt to cook dinner, I tap my index finger against my lip as I do so.
It would make sense for the ghost boy to capture Danny.
For revenge....or, to lure us into a trap.
He could have overshadowed Danny, used his dexteral handwriting skills, and took off with him into the night.
The thought of a ghost-a disgusting, loathsome, filthy ghost-inside my little child still made me want to scream.
I wanted-violent as it sounded, brutal though it sounded-can you really blame a mother for wanting her hatchling safe...? I wanted....
I wanted Phantom's head for this one.
"My son has been missing for close to three months now and I know that Danny Phantom has something to do with it! So, you two are either going to answer our questions the nice way, or we'll get them out of you the not so nice way. And, trust me, after all these months, I'm not feeling remotely nice to anything with ectoplasm in its body."
Some things just aren't matching up, correctly.
After we've all cleared the dishes, I sank onto the nearby couch, reaching for the small photograph of me and a four year old Danny together at the park.
A lump rose to my throat. I sheepishly put a gloved hand to my face.
But not in time to stop the tears.
As I sink onto Danny's bed that night, I absentmindedly scratch TJ behind the ears slightly. Wagging his tail-and thumping it against the floor-in appreciation, the dog slowly curled up on the corner of Danny's bed, looking sleepy, with one spotted ear falling over his eye.
I manage a chuckle before staring up at the fluorescent stars Danny had plastered onto the ceiling.
At last, it becomes too much again. I want to ask, pointless though it is.
I have to ask:
Where is my baby boy?
The night sky is spattered with an ocean of stars. I pry open Danny's window, and rest on the sill for awhile, knees pulled to my chin as I enjoy the soft, slight breeze.
Vaguely, I begin to hum an old tune under my breath, for lack of anything better to do:
"Angels watching, e'er around thee,
All through the night
Midnight slumber close surround thee,
All through the night.
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping
I my loved ones' watch am keeping,
All through the night."
It was the lullaby I often sang for Danny when he was just a baby.
Withdrawing from the window, pausing to wrap my arms around the quilt that still had Danny's soft, unique, scent faintly imbued into the material-I begin to shakily hum once again:
"Angels watching, e'er around thee,
All through the night.
Midnight slumber close surround thee,
All through the night…."
The hot, sea of tears began to slide, thick and fast-down my face once again as my voice warbled, shook, and cracked.
"Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping…."
Danny. My little boy.
Where are you?
My head spins.
And the maelstorm kicks in as I dash from the room, destination imbued into my thoughts:
The rooftop. And the oppcenter.
No answer. I cast a glance at my own, quivering hands.
Still no answer.
And, at last, I too, crack.
I let out a cry before falling to my knees, face in my hands.
To any forest, town, city, chamber, village....
I swallowed, pressing my hands to my hair, and now feeling ready to rip it out by the roots.
But I prayed that he might hear me and my call. Our call. Everyone's.
Wherever he was, I hoped desperately it would travel to him.
To China. To deserts. To Forests or Castles or Cities or Different Worlds......
Finally, I yell from the rooftops, ridiculous it is, pointless, immature, futile, and stupid it is-
"DANNY, WHERE ARE YOU?!"
*Sobs immensely, reaches for handkerchief.*
Um….well….sorry if it kinda turned angsty. Whoa. O.O I had NO idea I could actually write something so bitterly odd….
Poor, poor Madeline. Gomen nasai if the plot was a little scattered. I'm not at all established with doing POVs instead of third-person stylization.
I need to complete a few stories. And then, become better established with my homework if I'm ever to get into an established university. I have to work in student teaching after working for my degrees…..