Judgements of a Stone
folder
Digimon › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
1,896
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Digimon › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
1,896
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Digimon: Digital Monsters, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Epilogue: And the Evening and the Morning Were the Third Day
Judgments of A Stone
By: Vain
6.2001-11.23.2001
-------------------------------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ -----------------------------------
-----READ THIS INFORMATION OR YOU MAY BE CONFUSED!!!!!-----
Please Note:
THIS IS A STORY CONTAINING MATURE THEMES, DISTURBING IMAGERY, ADULT SITUATIONS, VIOLENT THEMES, CHARACTER DEATH, AND VARIOUS FORMS OF CHILD ABUSE. THIS IS RATED NC-17.
ALSO, THIS IS UNRELATED TO ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS.
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
“Tell me, did you sail across the sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way to see
the lights all fading and that heaven is overrated?
Tell me, did you fall from a shooting star, land without a permanent scar?
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?”
~Trane
Drops of Jupiter
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------
Epilogue:
And the Evening and the Morning Were the Third Day
-------~~~ ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------
Five Years Later
A pair of purple glasses hid her eyes as she stared at him—at her master.
“So it’s begun?” he asked, without looking at her.
She nodded, her white hair moving slightly in the breeze. “Yes. There are five of them this time. Two of them are from the original group—Light and Hope, I believe.”
“Ahey hey will all stand against him?”
“I would imagine so. They have been given Digimentals. The older ones are there, too. They aren’t fighting, but they may cause him trouble. Do you think he can handle all thirteen of them alone?”
He closed his eyes and smiled. “Have faith in our little Kaiser, my dear. What choice does he have?”
She frowned at him, but didn’t protest. It wasn’t her place. She turned to go.
“Keep him safe,” the man told her suddenly, making her pause. “If he’s injured . . .” he trailed off and the threat hung in the air ominously.
She nodded again and left, her purple boots making no sound on the ground.
My little Ichijouji Ken . . .
He stood for a long moment, glaring at the shimmering sunlight in the air, the heavy finality of the carved words, the emptiness of the silence around him—within him. “I did it,” he murmured in a deep voice. “I did it without you—without you.”
Perhaps Oikawa Yukio expected something to happen when he said that. Perhaps he expected validation or vindication for his actions: something, anything, to fill the gaping chasm where his soul had been; a chasm that had once known the wondering and adoring gaze of a pair of blue-violet eyes, the firm grip of a friend’s handshake, the total trust and innocence of a child’s love, the iron-girded bonds of friendship. A soul that had once been his soul and his soul alone. But nothing came. And so there he stood: empty, alone, and forgotten—unloved and unmourned. But he wasn’t really alone, was he? No. He would never be alone again; that was a privilege he would be forever denied. There were still the ghosts, you see. The screech of tires in the afternoon sunlight. The promise of a purpleberry ice cream cone. The deep hatred of an older brother. The loss of two precious friends. The shattered innocence of a small boy. And rising above it all—towering above them all—and burying him beneath its hot shadow, rose the unforgiving judgment of a stone—a tombstone.
And that was all there was.
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ -------
“Gift in vain, gift of chance, / Life, why wert thou given me?
Why have I been condemned / To a secret fate by thee?
“Who with some strange hostile power / Summoned me from nothingness,
And disturbed my mind with doubt, / Filled my soul with passion’s stress?
“Goal there’s none before me now: / Empty heart and idle brain,
Life’s monotonous roaring sound / Burdens me with endless pain.”
~ Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
Gift in Vain, Gift of Chance
--------------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------------
~ Fin
By: Vain
6.2001-11.23.2001
-------------------------------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ -----------------------------------
-----READ THIS INFORMATION OR YOU MAY BE CONFUSED!!!!!-----
Please Note:
THIS IS A STORY CONTAINING MATURE THEMES, DISTURBING IMAGERY, ADULT SITUATIONS, VIOLENT THEMES, CHARACTER DEATH, AND VARIOUS FORMS OF CHILD ABUSE. THIS IS RATED NC-17.
ALSO, THIS IS UNRELATED TO ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS.
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
“Tell me, did you sail across the sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way to see
the lights all fading and that heaven is overrated?
Tell me, did you fall from a shooting star, land without a permanent scar?
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?”
~Trane
Drops of Jupiter
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------
Epilogue:
And the Evening and the Morning Were the Third Day
-------~~~ ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------
Five Years Later
A pair of purple glasses hid her eyes as she stared at him—at her master.
“So it’s begun?” he asked, without looking at her.
She nodded, her white hair moving slightly in the breeze. “Yes. There are five of them this time. Two of them are from the original group—Light and Hope, I believe.”
“Ahey hey will all stand against him?”
“I would imagine so. They have been given Digimentals. The older ones are there, too. They aren’t fighting, but they may cause him trouble. Do you think he can handle all thirteen of them alone?”
He closed his eyes and smiled. “Have faith in our little Kaiser, my dear. What choice does he have?”
She frowned at him, but didn’t protest. It wasn’t her place. She turned to go.
“Keep him safe,” the man told her suddenly, making her pause. “If he’s injured . . .” he trailed off and the threat hung in the air ominously.
She nodded again and left, her purple boots making no sound on the ground.
My little Ichijouji Ken . . .
He stood for a long moment, glaring at the shimmering sunlight in the air, the heavy finality of the carved words, the emptiness of the silence around him—within him. “I did it,” he murmured in a deep voice. “I did it without you—without you.”
Perhaps Oikawa Yukio expected something to happen when he said that. Perhaps he expected validation or vindication for his actions: something, anything, to fill the gaping chasm where his soul had been; a chasm that had once known the wondering and adoring gaze of a pair of blue-violet eyes, the firm grip of a friend’s handshake, the total trust and innocence of a child’s love, the iron-girded bonds of friendship. A soul that had once been his soul and his soul alone. But nothing came. And so there he stood: empty, alone, and forgotten—unloved and unmourned. But he wasn’t really alone, was he? No. He would never be alone again; that was a privilege he would be forever denied. There were still the ghosts, you see. The screech of tires in the afternoon sunlight. The promise of a purpleberry ice cream cone. The deep hatred of an older brother. The loss of two precious friends. The shattered innocence of a small boy. And rising above it all—towering above them all—and burying him beneath its hot shadow, rose the unforgiving judgment of a stone—a tombstone.
And that was all there was.
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ -------
“Gift in vain, gift of chance, / Life, why wert thou given me?
Why have I been condemned / To a secret fate by thee?
“Who with some strange hostile power / Summoned me from nothingness,
And disturbed my mind with doubt, / Filled my soul with passion’s stress?
“Goal there’s none before me now: / Empty heart and idle brain,
Life’s monotonous roaring sound / Burdens me with endless pain.”
~ Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
Gift in Vain, Gift of Chance
--------------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------------
~ Fin