-1My Life is a Dream
Chrono Compendium Winter Fanfic Contest Entry
By Yoko Endovale
My life... is a dream...
These hopeful sounding words had always been held close to his heart, though it was not the full sentence that clung heavily to the soul. It had always lay draped upon the man's shoulders like iron shackles that seemed to weigh more every day.
My life... is a dream, that of a nightmare.
Flea had always been proficient with magic, from a very early age. It ran in his family for generations, so of course it came naturally... but he found himself ignored. The youngest of three siblings, he was always overshadowed by his older sisters. They were beautiful, smart, talented with the magic arts, and absolutely doted over by their mother.
But did they ever need to lift a finger to make those around them do a thing? No, of course not; everyone seemed charmed by their wit but mostly by their looks. Mother herself never let her age show and could get just about any man to bend to her... Flea envied that power. He devoted himself completely to the art of disguise.
Silk dresses and sweet perfumes in crystal bottles - a touch of eye shadow and a bit of gloss. The sweet curves of a Venus and the soft eyes of a true dreamer in touch with the mystical land beyond reality. He learned, he adapted, he adopted these things, but in the end he never was accepted by the one person he wanted to be most.
Finally, the end of his rope was met and the young man could no longer see nor think clearly; trapped in the nightmare of being an unwanted soul and unloved by his own mother, he viciously tried to tear his way out.
Blood upon the floors, upon the silken gown they wore... a rapidly paling complexion and a shattered bottle laying in bits about the woman's brown hair. The child fled and never turned back.
Yet no matter where he brought himself his nightmare was following. So trained now to the feminine ways, he could not stand to appear in any other form before another. It disgusted his very soul; what could he do? It came very clear that he would have to bring about a dream to replace this nightmare. To find that missing love, yes, the goal was clear, but the trail was dark and unknown.
Though so much alike the Humans in appearance, his origin was like a great visible stain upon his skin. Like hellish bloodhounds they could sniff his true self out and bore no mercy; it was fate that would bring him to raise a weapon and trust very little that moved. Desperate, he drifted with the winds among the various members of the Mystic race, steadily growing weary.
Finally, somebody was interested, and perhaps Flea had a bit of use.
Reigned in by a boisterous, green fatman who went by the title of Ozzie, Flea numbly followed the coward's suggestions and orders; though his powers greatly outmatched this airy 'leader', Flea's diminished self worth kept him from ever questioning. But in some blessing, this now granted Flea a place to live and somewhat call 'home', in a fort of questionable stability. It was not long before another man was recruited, a swordsman with an annoying taste in music.
Flea drifted mindlessly through each day in a daze... trapped in the ethereal world between dream and reality; with mind's eyes half closed, he knew very little about what went on around him. Stupid quests to line Ozzie's pockets with treasure were the norm; Flea could no longer keep track of time. A dying, decaying soul...
Upon a harsh breeze, a twist of fate arrived in the oddest of packages. A child, traumatized, found alone in the woods.
The Fatman himself came upon the young boy, quickly snapping him up and dragging him home, mostly thinking of what a good soup it would make and how much leftovers there would be. The child wailed and fought as he was hauled in under an arm; Flea was jolted into action on impulse. Slap! Gloved hand across Ozzie's face, the other retrieving the child. Acting on deep instinct Flea held the poor thing close to his bosom.
Much to Ozzie's disgust, Flea was unusually resistant to follow orders. They must keep the poor thing, he shrieked, for he was alone, terrified, in a living nightmare... There was little else to say in the matter, so they kept the boy and raised him.
Flea became infatuated. He lavished upon the child his knowledge of weaponry, the mastery of the scythe; also in slow but steady paces they were able to wake up sleeping powers in the boy. It was almost too soon that they all now looked up to him, the dark Lord Magus.
A great war was started, encouragement from Flea, Ozzie and Slash, against the humans.
Flea, by now, felt his dream had finally been set into place, yet something was still missing...
But before anybody could have known, events unfolded at a mind-numbing pace. It came as quite a shock to Flea when some meddling pests were able to best him, though it was true his mental state was too shaky for combat. In the course of the same evening, wouldn't luck have it, there was a disaster of high note and even Lord Magus was gone.
Somehow, as if Fate hated his very existence, Flea was back in that god awful fort. The pain he had tried to mask for years now burned actively in his heart. Blissful dream? No, still the dreadful nightmare, only to be made worse by a reappearance.
This time, however, he was not fighting for his beloved Lord, but against him.
Beaten soundly and tossed about like a rag doll…
Torn apart by the very thing he had worked so hard to protect…
The one who he had rescued from and undeserved, awful nightmare…
And the only other soul Flea's heart ached for love and comfort from…!
My life is a dream, that of a nightmare…