Life is a mystery, life is a gift, life is a journey, I have heard people describe life as many things and everyone seems to have their own perspective and idea about life and the meaning behind it, but me? I have no idea, I don't think about it usually, never comes up in a conversation, never thought about it too deeply, after all, why should I?
What purpose is there to think about the life that I am living? to think about the life that is around me? I exist simultaneously as everyone else, I wake up and refuse to get off the bed because it's very comfortable, but life forces me to get out of bed because I was born to become a responsible adult, or so they all say, I never asked for this, I didn't ask to be born, but that union of two beings such as myself lead to my birth.
Yet, despite my lack of consent to being born, I don't really have a problem living and I don't want to die any time soon, I suppose I am one of those people who either constantly look for purpose or one of those that will never find meaning in life. My life hasn't been the worst, although I haven't seen the face of my parents, I was told that they had died when I was young, but I haven't ever heard of their name, I haven't seen their pictures, as if no one wants me to remember their name or know their appearance, I was raised by an orphanage until I was 13, but then I decided to run away from the orphanage.
I remember that night vividly, every emotion, every movement, I can never forget. I ran, I ran, I kept running, I never looked back, even as an unknown emotion stirred inside my chest, an emotion I can't quite pinpoint, perhaps it was regret for potentially getting caught later, or excitement for the decision that I am making, by running away, or guilt from the thought that I am running away without a word from the people who raised me to this point.
The soles of my feet were aching painfully from the continuous running, yet I never stopped, it wasn't until I passed out from exhaustion, briefly seeing a vague silhouette of something small before I blacked out in a random alleyway, where I ran to hide temporarily. how much distance I crossed is unknown to me, how long I've been running is unknown to me, all I know is that I awoke to an unfamiliar ceiling and a bed more comfortable and softer than anything I've ever heard the privilege of laying upon, the walls were made of dark oak wood, a type of wood I've only seen in old houses or rich people's homes, they looked aged, yet the atmosphere was comfortable.
As I awoke and observed and analysed my surroundings, I was panicking internally, scared that I got caught and brought back to the orphanage which I was trying so hard to run away from all, the same orphanage which denied me the right to know of my parents, denied me the right to feel the warmth of my mother's embrace, denied me the right to feel scared under my father's scrutinizing gaze, denied me the right to know their names, and finally, denied me the right to see their appearance.
I don't know the type of people my parents were, but I hope they would have been the type I had imagined after listening to the other kids at my old school, who were complaining about their mother's nagging or their father's scolding, or the lunch their mother prepared for them, I didn't notice when I got lost in thoughts about the orphanage and my parents, when I get snapped back to reality by the sound of the sliding glass door, followed by the voice that can only be described as old.
"Ah, you're awake, boy. I found you passed out in the back alley of my house, so I took you in." Following the voice, which felt warm and sweet, I looked up to see an old lady walking in with a gentle smile. She seemed older than the orphanage manager of the orphanage I stayed in. The lady in front of me wore a knitted red sweater, fitting the ongoing winter season. She smelled briefly of tea and faded perfume. She continued to speak with a smile and a gentle tone. "Well then, boy, what's your name? I can't be calling you 'boy' the entire time, can I?"
Before I could respond, I heard the sound of a meow. Following the sound, a cat with fur as white as snow stepped out from behind the old lady, who spoke in a gentle, calm tone, in no rush. "I should introduce you to our little furry friend here. His name is Yumi, and he's been my family for a long time. Yumi, go say hello to our guest." Following her voice, I looked down at the cat and noticed his eyes, they were unique. His left eye was a bright apple green, while his right eye was a warm orange. Slowly nodding, I waved hello to Yumi, and the cat meowed in response before I looked back up at the lady and spoke, "My name is… Yuki."
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Author's note: first time writing, I have no idea what I'm doing, I have a plan, but it's like the meme "gentlemen, I may not have a brain, but I have an idea" type shit, there's a plan, I'm just not a good planner. Anyways, this is just the prologue and it's not perfectly written, there's probably thousands of mistakes here and there, I'll get to fixing them sooner or later, and consider this story to be practice.
I'll probably edit this prologue multiple times, either to add, remove or change something, it's like an alpha version of any game, a lot of bugs and issues, but I'm working up to it. So, any feedback or suggestions is appreciated. The story is completely original, by that, I mean it's formed from my own thoughts, not copied, there are definitely inspirations here and there.
There may seem to be issues with the prologue related to the story, but I'll explain them in later chapters, that or I just missed something in the prologue and I'll fix it later, just note that this is just a flashback, the real story takes place some time later.
Oh and, I'm definitely going to be taking my time with this book, I'm new to this. Don't have hopes for me.