Past Related Future


He walked through the endless pit; never positive if it were a tunnel or cave he was passing in. In any matter, the location was only black playing black, making it impossible to see an inch in front of him. Maybe it was better that way, for a strong, agonizing aroma that filled his senses with no pleasure followed him constantly. He noted that the smell was that of rotten decay, the stench that someone—or something—has been dead for countless hours…possibly days, weeks, months, years. But he knew, for he was no amateur, that there was more than one dead object.

Yet he was surprised. The walls on either side of him were smooth, as was the ground he stepped on, like the cave, tunnel, pit, grotto…whatever it may be, was newly discovered. Of course this confused him, but he was hardly worried, he just wanted to find the end of the darkness.

What was odd, though, was that he knew he would never find the light. He's been down this road before and he knew there was no escaping the black void. However, he was determined not to give up, he never had and he never will.

"Come, Prince, come. You are getting closer to your liberation," a deep voice came, echoing off the narrow walls, making it impossible to tell from which direction it came. Never turning around, he hoped against hope that the voice was straight ahead.

As time passed, even though it was as if time itself has stopped, the slender sides—all four—became more confined. Soon enough, he found himself crawling on his hands and knees, barely being able to squeeze through that way.

A loud rumbling laughter came to his ears, making him wince inwardly.

"Prince, why are you taking so long?" the echoing voice asked, "Are you frightened?" another booming laugh.

"No, I'm not afraid," he said in his mind, but nevertheless, it echoed like he said it aloud.

"Prove it, Prince!" the voice demanded.

He began to sweat; the heat was becoming unbearable. It reminded him of crawling over top of lava on a slim log, wanting to get away from the hotness, yet having to go slow in fear of falling into the red, bubbling liquid.

Suddenly, as if by coincidence or miracle, he saw a bright, white light in front of him coming through, only big enough for a small child to fit.

"There's no way that's going to stop me," he said out loud, just so he could hear himself.

He reached the opening, immediately punching around the abyss, making the light brighter and brighter to his eyes.

"What do you think you are doing, Prince?" it asked, soundly slightly amused, "You actually think you can win?"

"Yes!" he screamed, giving him a new burst of energy, "I know I can win, I will win!" He punched a big chunk of hard rock.

Exuberant laughter came once again, "Foolish Prince! No matter how powerful you think you may be, you are no where near strong enough to defeat all of us!"

That's when he abruptly realized that this echo voice that has been talking in his brain was not just one voice. It was many voices talking in unison and, he found that if he listened hard enough, he heard females talking amongst the voice.

No matter, he made the hole big enough for him to climb through, the white light blinding him. All the voices went their separate ways, not bothering to be one, big, booming voice, but a million of still loud, echoing voices, speaking all in a mix.

"Welcome back, Prince."

"What took you so long, Prince?"

"Prince, are you here to rescue us?"

"Or are you, Prince, here to destroy us?"


Before he could comprehend what was going on, the speakers quickly became angry, instead of praising.

"Why didn't you try to stop him, Prince?"

"Why did you let him do that to us, Prince…your own people!"

"You betrayed us, Prince!"

"Prince, its all your fault!"

All the voices suddenly became one again, "Now you're going to see exactly what we went through, Prince!" spitting his position like it were a curse.

By this time, he was covering his ears roughly with the palms of his hands, trying unsuccessfully to block them out. The white light became brighter, blinding him, yet still seeing white instead of black. A bang loud enough to wake the whole galaxy erupted, deafening him immediately.

Though he could not see or hear, he still had the sense that he was in grave danger. Crouching down and covering his face with his arms did nothing to protect him, as he was thrown back with force, landing on the empty ground, not so much hearing, but feeling, the many cracks his body made. From low in his throat, he made a pain filled groan, wanting this nightmare to end.

With no doubt in his mind that he was dying, he heard the voice speak to him inside his heart:

"Now you know how it feels, Prince…"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Endless black orbs snapped open, starring at the dark ceiling that lay above him, feeling dizziness hit him between his eyes. Yet he didn't close them, trying to focus on the unmoving ceiling fan.

Why do I keep having this dream? Vegeta asked himself, for it was not the first time he dreamt of crawling through a mysterious tunnel, but it was the farthest he has ever got with it.

He felt perspire form on his brows and drip down beside his ears, then to the pillow his head lay on. Vegeta kicked the two blankets that were tangled all over his legs off, yet still not cooling off. Reaching over to his right with his left hand, he pushed a little button on the wall three times, turning the ceiling fan on high. He let out a sigh as his back pressed firmly with the mattress again, letting the cool air circle around him.

Is this dream trying to tell me something…is it haunting me? Vegeta didn't try to figure it; he just wanted the nightmares to end. But why—after all these years—would my past just come back to me?

He looked over to his left to see Bulma, sleeping soundly and facing opposite him. Vegeta watched as her body moved slightly up and down as she breathed in and out. He didn't feel one bit tired and he didn't know if it was from his dream, or it was morning. They always put the blind down at night, so if they didn't want to wake up early, the sun wouldn't disturb them.

Shifting to his side, Vegeta lifted himself up with his elbow and put his other hand in front of Bulma to keep his balance from falling on her. He squinted to let his eyes focus on the clock, which read 5:38 A.M. If that moment were fifteen years ago, he would be getting out of bed to train in the gravity room.

Without bothering to move back to his side of the bed, his body limped, letting his arm rest over Bulma. She let out a sleepy moan and moved back, closer to Vegeta. He squeezed her lightly; happy she was there to take his mind off his dreams. Why bother…he had the next night to worry about it.

Yet at that moment, he didn't have any idea that he would have a lot more to worry about the next night than his dreams…