Categories > Anime/Manga > Yu-Gi-Oh!
Precipitation
0 reviewsDead sisters can't be resurrected. Ryou knows this, and prays for something different. Wishful-Ryou; cemetary; rain. [Not a religion fic.]
1Ambiance
Disclaimer: Totally don't own.
Ryou-angst, but kind of not. I miss the "General" category. ;x;
Constructive criticism is very welcome.
-
Kneeling on the scratchy red carpet, only a few feet into the sanctuary, he prays for snow.
If he dares approach the altar, he might be struck down. He is filthy, unclean, impure; and he is committing sacrelige by coming to the church at all.
But he knows of no other way to ask for snow, so he risks it.
-
When he exits the church, rain is falling.
-
He walks, concentrating on the sidewalk. When the ancient cemetary gates loom in front of him, he puts his hand against the latch, and the gates open silently.
He realizes he can't remember where Amane's grave is. It has been a long time since he came to see her. He hopes she isn't too angry at him.
-
As he paces along the rows of marble angels and pale grey blocks of stone, he reads the epitaphs. Beloved mother, precious son, rest in peace.
He finds himself in the section devoted to dead children. Born March 5th, 1870. Died March 7th, 1870.
He wants to cry.
Instead, he runs. The names of fathers and sisters and grandparents become a blur.
He trips and lands hard, face down in the soft dirt of a new grave. He throws himself backwards, away from it, and crashes into a tall black spire of stone.
It does not fall, and he clutches it gratefully. It is solid, and is almost comforting.
He examines his surroundings. He is in the oldest part of the cemetary, where the graves are marked by elaborate statues.
She isn't here.
He leaves the cemetary without finding her. She'll understand. The rain is falling harder, and the clouds are blacking out the last fragments of sun. It's too dark to search any longer.
-
On the walk home, he cries silently. The tears blind him to the snowflakes fluttering down, like feathers from angels' wings.
Ryou-angst, but kind of not. I miss the "General" category. ;x;
Constructive criticism is very welcome.
-
Kneeling on the scratchy red carpet, only a few feet into the sanctuary, he prays for snow.
If he dares approach the altar, he might be struck down. He is filthy, unclean, impure; and he is committing sacrelige by coming to the church at all.
But he knows of no other way to ask for snow, so he risks it.
-
When he exits the church, rain is falling.
-
He walks, concentrating on the sidewalk. When the ancient cemetary gates loom in front of him, he puts his hand against the latch, and the gates open silently.
He realizes he can't remember where Amane's grave is. It has been a long time since he came to see her. He hopes she isn't too angry at him.
-
As he paces along the rows of marble angels and pale grey blocks of stone, he reads the epitaphs. Beloved mother, precious son, rest in peace.
He finds himself in the section devoted to dead children. Born March 5th, 1870. Died March 7th, 1870.
He wants to cry.
Instead, he runs. The names of fathers and sisters and grandparents become a blur.
He trips and lands hard, face down in the soft dirt of a new grave. He throws himself backwards, away from it, and crashes into a tall black spire of stone.
It does not fall, and he clutches it gratefully. It is solid, and is almost comforting.
He examines his surroundings. He is in the oldest part of the cemetary, where the graves are marked by elaborate statues.
She isn't here.
He leaves the cemetary without finding her. She'll understand. The rain is falling harder, and the clouds are blacking out the last fragments of sun. It's too dark to search any longer.
-
On the walk home, he cries silently. The tears blind him to the snowflakes fluttering down, like feathers from angels' wings.
Sign up to rate and review this story