November 9, 2009

AN: I thought of this idea yesterday (or maybe it was the day before) and couldn't put it down. So I wrote this prologue in about an hour and a half and just decided to post it. I'm a very unreliable writer so I apologize now if I never continue or finish this story (because as well as being unreliable, I'm also very busy – see AN for chapter 3 of Odaiba High for further explanation) but I really like this idea and if a lot of other people do too then I will feel more inspired to continue it. Sound good? Well, leave a review if you desire to see this continued or hate it and think I should jump off a cliff – whichever floats your boat.

Also, I only read over this twice to I apologize if there are any errors and would appreciate it if some kind soul would feel inclined as to point them out to me in a review.


The Ultimate Sacrifice

Prologue

Winter days always seem the same to him. There's only so many different ways that the sky can be gray and overcast, that the mist can coat the grass and the frost can cover his older sister's car in the driveway. When a person has seen one dreary winter day, he or she has seen them all.

It was hard to remain optimistic with so many days like that one. Winters were so long and depressing in Odaiba. Summer was always way too short for his preference. As soon as it started, it ended. Summer days flew by, because it was during summer than his positive attitude was in full throttle. It was during those short summer days that he felt the most hope that the horrors of his past could finally be undone. However, summer always ended much too soon for him to make any progress and winter came back around. Maybe if he lived somewhere that was always summer – maybe then he would get something done.

It was the fourth winter now – the fourth horrid, desolate winter for him to lose himself in despair. He remembered not thinking that he would be able to make it through the first one but, somehow, he did. He thought the same thing about the second, and the third, and now the fourth. But even though he didn't know how he would be able to, he knew he would make it through. He made it through the first three. He'll make it through this one, too.

And hopefully he wouldn't have to live through a fifth one as well.

The spiky haired brunette boy zipped up his winter coat, pulled on a pair of long pants and tied his tennis shoes before grabbing his backpack and leaving his house. School didn't start for another hour but he wouldn't be able to sleep in any longer.

It was freezing outside. He felt as if his eyelashes and eyebrows were frosting over at the very exposure to the biting cold air. He sighed when remembering that he'd forgotten his gloves on his nightstand. Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he kept walking. Since it was the beginning of winter, there was no snow yet. It was only a matter of time, though.

He liked to take the long route to school – the one that took him to the edge of the ocean. It was much faster if he just walked directly to his school from his house, but he enjoyed walking along the ocean. The ocean gave him hope, even on the most miserable of winter days. He had seen someone be transported to another world from this very ocean, so maybe, just maybe, if he walked by it every day, he could be transported to another world, too.

The boy ran a hand through his hair to keep the bits of mist out of it. Even though it had been years since he'd worn goggles, he still felt strange without them. The very few friends that he had kept over the years told him he looked weird without them and that he should put them back on, but he knew that he never would. The boy that had given him those goggles had let him down in a way that he never thought possible, and in return those goggles lay smashed, dusty, and forgotten in the back of his closet.

He reached the cliff overlooking the ocean, a mile from his school. He stopped walking and stood facing the ocean, staring at it, squinting in the hopes that he would spy a portal with his naked eye. He reached back into his backpack and extracted a small, computer-like device. He gripped the blue device tightly in his hand and held it out to the ocean defiantly, clenching his jaw and concentrating with all of his might.

Take me back. Please… just take me back.

He remained in that position for so long that he was sure that after a while he was frozen. Finally, after concentrating so hard that his head started to pound, he exhaled deeply, his breath freezing before his eyes, and let his arm drop limply back to his side. Nearly every day for the last three and a half years he had tried this. After being told that he would never be able to get back through a computer, he decided that the ocean was his best bet. He came every single day, even on weekends and vacations, and tried with all of his might to get back. Every day he tried to remain positive. Every day he told himself that today would be the day that it would open. He could never miss a day, because what if that was the day that it decided to open? What if it only opened every five years? He couldn't take the chance of missing it.

Holding the device up to his eye level, he glared at it. It had not so much as lit up in four years and he grew angry at it. All it had to do was beep to life and light up and he would be home free. It was all up to this stupid, little computer.

He reared his arm back and threw the device down the cliff, letting out a yell as he did so. The mini-computer sailed through the air and landed fifty feet below him in the sand, near the tide. He breathed in heavily, adrenaline pumping with his anger. He clenched and unclenched his fingers to keep the blood flowing, and a moment later regretted his actions. He grumbled to himself as he walked over to the stairs that would take him down to the beach.

The cold sand got into his socks and shoes as he trudged through the beach. He could spy his blue device in the brown sand from ten feet away. He bent down, picked it up, and looked at it closely. It was covered in sand, but still in perfect condition – except for the fact that it remained dark and lifeless.

He shook his head and placed it back into the same pocket of his backpack that he had been keeping it in for the last four years. Turning on his heel, he started the rest of his walk to school.

He would be back tomorrow. And the next day, and the day after that. He would continue to come all through the winter, and during spring, and during the summer. He would come every single day until he died. He would not stop until he could go back and make up for the atrocity that he and ten other people had committed four years earlier.

He would try until it killed him.