There was something there.
Deep in our minds, intertwined together.
It wasn't gentle, it wasn't good.
But that made us become who we are, what we are.
Alive.
Every tone of red forced upon our veins, that made us alive.
But being alive, is that worth it? Is that something they should fight for?
No.
Not for them, not for the ◼◼◼◼◼◼.
Somewhere, deep in his own thoughts, adrift in that endless outflow of words and emotions. None of them belonged to him, yet all of them did.
Screams.
Whispers.
Pleads for safety.
They swarmed up his nostrils and ears, entering through his brain in an invasive way.
"Don't listen to their whispers."
"Listen to their whispers."
"Alive"
"Dead"
"The ◼◼◼◼◼◼ want you."
"The Fall is coming."
The last words felt like a stab through his chest, ascending to his neck.
Blood didn't spurt out; only the sharp pain remained.
Suddenly, his eyelids flew up, and the sun quickly attacked his eyes.
Chirping away from him, the birds moved, and the leaves slowly followed the wind's movement. Smashing a few flowers while trying to get up, he found himself at the verge.
The end of his journey was here. Brushing the dust from his armor, followed by spitting blood out of his mouth. His gaze found its path directly to a humanoid figure; They had eyes in their arms, in their legs, there were eyes EVERYWHERE.
Disgusting.
The rise of his sword, though, was a challenge to the figure.
It whispered, and even away, their voice was heard.
"You came, I'm impressed."/"What a pathetic sight."
One voice, two different phrases, one opposite of the other.
The man let a huge sigh out of his mouth, following the advice from the voices inside his head. He ignored the whispers.
His left foot went against the ground, and using enough force, it propelled him in the direction of that 'thing.'
With one smooth motion in a horizontal slash, from left to right, the man didn't waste a second. Nonetheless, the slash was easily caught by a hand made of strings of red and black.
A slap made a gigantic gap between them, and as the man flew to his back, he did not hesitate to once again swing at the creature.
The fight continued with slashes and punches. Eventually, the man's sword broke down, and he nevertheless continued to attack.
Why? He didn't know; after a few hours there, he lost control of his own body, not to the voices from the enemy, or the voices inside himself. But to himself, to his own will.
That raw emotion was the single thing that made humans… humans. The sheer confidence, the undying will. He had it all, a thing that the ◼◼◼◼◼ didn't.
"I won."/"You lost."
The voice — once again — came broken in two different phrases, sharing the same tone. Though for the first time, they said the same thing.
He laughed, broken, because his lungs couldn't grasp enough air to laugh right.
"I know."
Slightly tilting its head to the left, the colorful creature wondered why, why did he laugh?
"You won now, but ◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼"
◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼
" ◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼ "
A sharp and horrible sound forced its way into Axel's ears. He quickly jumped from his bed, covering his ears with both of his hands.
"Argh—"
Blood came out of his throat, and not in a small amount. It was as if he had been sick for months now. Though, for what he knew, he was a fairly healthy man.
Coughing the last bit of blood out of his mouth, he finally gathered enough force on his leg to stand up. Stumbling to the bathroom, the mirror revealed a pale man. Very pale.
Cleaning a little of the blood that remained on his face, the boy once again stared at his face. His features weren't far off the ordinary, just maybe a little higher than usual. He had short curly dark brown hair that looked almost black.
Water flowed out of the sink. Putting his hands together, Axel grabbed a small amount of water and then threw it against his own face. That quickly made him more awake.
Still weak, Axel stumbled as he walked down stairs. The man still lived with his family, of course, it wasn't because he didn't want to — he was still an unemployed bum — but rather, the economy in his country was fucked up enough that leaving his house soon wasn't possible.
Nevertheless, that was good for him; after all, he could see his little brother every day.
Talking about the little devil, he saw a small figure running towards him. They were almost identical, of course, the only difference being the size and the look of a small kid
"BRO! BRO!" He shouts while handling Axel, a small bird
"Hm? Did this little one hit the glass?" Birds hitting the glass door on their house was fairly common; for that reason, he and his little Brother would always take care of the birds, like pets.
"Yeah…" Axel gently removed the bird from the boy's hand. Lifting the bird's wing, the wounds were fairly easy to see, but luckily, not very urgent.
"Okay, Okay. Come with me, Pemota."
Axel handed his hand, and the boy followed, gripping it with his smaller one. They spent a few minutes patching the small bird, though all the work went to Axel's hand — when finished, Pemota jumped in happiness.
Bringing the bird to a small box, Pemota gently let him down, sleeping peacefully now that his wounds weren't hurting anymore.
"Hey, Pe."
"Yeah?"
"I will buy ice cream, do you want some?" His head flew up and down, as if in a rock concert. Axel made him stop before he would hurt himself, though the vision of his small hair up and down in the air was quite cute.
Axel brushed his fingers against Pemota's hair and walked away.
One thing Axel would always love to do after leaving his house was take a deep breath, stare at the bright blue sk— his heart stopped.
As his gaze reached the sky, he saw something not possible to see at this time of the day: the stars above.