Nightmare. [rewriten]

[Homeless]

A one shot I wrote, just on a whim.


Hanako nuzzled into Hisaos chest after, well one would not call it love making. How about just sex. Yes that is what it was after all. Hanako didn't mind though, she loved the man, well no, the boy that was laying beside her. They both had a long way to go before growing up, but they both had come so very far.

With her eyes closed and head lying on his chest, she murmured “I love you Hisao.” He kissed her head and they both fell into that blissful sleep that happens when both partners are utterly spent.



Hanako found her self walking up the steps of Yamaku. Spring tried to hold on but, the heat the summer promised to come could be felt attempting to bully its way in. There aren't many other students around, but she likes it that way. Unnoticed, like she's not even there, that's what she likes about her class mates, she doesn't exist. In the rush to get breakfast or to get to class they pay her no mind. She heads to the second floor stairwell, the warmth of summer already beginning to take hold of the school. It must be the heat that's keeping the other students in bed, Hanako thinks to herself, upon noticing the hallways are unusually empty.

She smells something, is that smoke? She looks around as she shakes her head to try to clear her thoughts, trying not to let the panic set in. There isn't the grey film that covers everything, can't be smoke, she thinks to herself, halfheartedly. She shakes her head again and focuses on what she wants to accomplish. I'll make it to class, Hisao will be there, she thinks to herself, trying to keep her hands from trembling. She does make it to class, and Hisao is there, but, there is something not right about this. She slowly walks to her seat, trying to keep her head down to avoid the normal stares that she thought followed her.

She takes her seat. She feels her heart race and her breath quicken as she the class is looking at her, not Hisao though, he's looking at his text book. Breath, the doctors told her, ground yourself the therapists told her. It's hard to breath, hard to ground yourself when it all feels like it's trying to smother you. She takes a deep breath, it burns, the smell of smoke burns her nose and throat. Like sitting too close to a camp fire when the smoke follows you, no matter where you sit, not that she would know this, her base instincts kept her away from such things. She glances at the window, it looks like a beautiful day, the clouds drifting by. She can't stop the panic that hits. It's like a hammer blow to her, in the middle of her chest, stealing her breath. She doesn't notice the sweat that begins to bead on her scarred brow, her eyes darting around the room, not resting on one place for more than a moment. She grabs her bag with unnoticed trembling hands and runs out into the hallway, like so many times before.

She's in the hallway, leaning against the wall just beside the door, trying to practice what her therapists told her to do. Coming from the classroom to the hallway is like walking from winter into summer that's in full swing. It's hot, every pore has opened and sweat is pouring out. She walks quickly towards the library, with every step she feels the pins and needles in her whole body, she's not felt this in a long time. Like a thousand centipedes crawling on her skin, no, not on, but under. She knows that no matter how much she scratches she can't ease that feeling.

Her face contorts in barely hidden agony. “No no no no no nononono,” she whispers to no one but herself. The scared half of her almost feels at home, the other half though, that feels fresh, new to this old pain.

She runs down the hallway, bumping into things, people maybe, on the way to her safe spot. The heat rises with every step she takes. She notices, just barely, the bubbling, peeling paint of the hallway falling around her as she runs. She turns the corner that should bring her to where the library should be, but there is nothing but another hallway there. She stops, her bag falling from her hand. Hanako's mind doesn't take another moment to think and picks up her pace, she's become good at running from her past. The linoleum tiles that she was so fond of hopping from one to another to, have begone to melt, sticking to her shoes, slowing her pace just barely. The heat shimmers in the hallway, melting the face of the painting that decorates the wall just before the library.

She's crying now, but doesn't know it. Her tears evaporating before they leave her eyes. Her heart is pounding in her ears, drowning out even the breaths that dry and rip her throat to shreds. She catches a glimpse of her scarred hand as she tries to flee this hell. The scars that had become so familiar to her have begun to blister and slowly melt. Small bits of flesh fall off her scarred hand with nothing but the force of her running. She can see tendons and bones in her hand, and the barely withheld horror breaks free and she screams, but nothing escapes the flesh of her cooked throat. She smells it then, the cooked flesh, her own cooked flesh. It's sickening, sickly sweet, it halts her in her tracks and she falls to her hands and knees. The linoleum burns her whats left of her hands and knees.

Flames begin to lick the walls and ceiling, she can't keep tears out of her eyes. A figure steps around the corner, she can't look at it. It calls her name, “Hanako, Daddy loves you,” says the man, once her father. A very kind and understanding face, looking down at her, with nothing but pain and love visible. He's holding his hands out to her, there would be tears, but they wouldn't last long in a place like this. His face is still kind as the flames begin to overtake him as he comes for his daughter. His clothes burn with every step, followed by his flesh. “Daddy,” Hanako cries, trying to reach for him, strings of melted linoleum stretching from her out stretched hand to the floor.

The man that was once her father, took steps toward her. Painfully, every step he took, caused agony, in him and his daughter. Her fathers flesh, burned and crisped until he was nothing more than a charred figure that kept moving towards her, as if to save her. The horribly disfigured being before her says “I'm sorry Hanako,” as it reaches out a hand to her. Tears pour down her face, evaporating before she reached out a hand, the sobs shaking her hand as it reaches out. The flames lick her body, almost teasing her, tempting her to let herself go.

Hanako cried when she awoke, Hisao did nothing but hold her shuddering body, it was the only thing he could do.

[Bearhood]

I liked it but it feels rushed, like you could comfortably double the word count just by being clearer/more descriptive about certain things.

[Homeless]

I liked it but it feels rushed, like you could comfortably double the word count just by being clearer/more descriptive about certain things.

It was kind of rushed, I wanted try to write something with out thinking to much about it. Kind of like a personal challenge I guess. Though, I may do a rewrite in the near future.