InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Paper Flowers ❯ The Sound of Screaming ( Prologue )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Lady Azure 
A story very VERY loosely based on the Salem Witch trials. A friend of mine wrote a fanfiction at one point having to do with WWII, which originally gave me the inspiration for this.
I chose to begin with a prologue simply to give the reader an idea of what type of world these people are living in. By certain events that come to pass, you'll get the idea.
Anyway, I've posted this before... a very long time ago, and just recently went back and decided it was really... bad. So, I reworked a whole lot of what I'd written, and even combined a few chapters.
Keep in mind that this is just the prologue, so it's unusually short. The rest of the chapters will be much longer.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Adventure | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 03.26.2006 | Updated On: 03.28.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 932 | Visits: 685 | Status: Work In Progress
A story very VERY loosely based on the Salem Witch trials. A friend of mine wrote a fanfiction at one point having to do with WWII, which originally gave me the inspiration for this.
I chose to begin with a prologue simply to give the reader an idea of what type of world these people are living in. By certain events that come to pass, you'll get the idea.
Anyway, I've posted this before... a very long time ago, and just recently went back and decided it was really... bad. So, I reworked a whole lot of what I'd written, and even combined a few chapters.
Keep in mind that this is just the prologue, so it's unusually short. The rest of the chapters will be much longer.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Adventure | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 03.26.2006 | Updated On: 03.28.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 932 | Visits: 685 | Status: Work In Progress
Paper Flowers
by Lady Azure
Prologue: The Sound of Screaming
High in a wasteland littered with bloody corpses, a lone cross stood tall. Upon this cross, a young woman hung tattered, and near death. Surrounding her, among the dead bodies, were malicious villagers, carrying in their hands torches that danced brightly and violently in the night, spears, sharp and fearful, pitchforks in the hands of the farmers, and bows, clutched in the tight grips of the few women among them.
The young woman, hanging above them, lifted her head slightly, only to see her approaching fate. Her teeth clenched from the slight twinge of pain that still remained in each hand, and the rusted nails protruding from them. Despite her attire, embarrassment never crossed her mind. Her red hakama was tattered and dirt-stained, her feet bare and cold. The white haori she’d been wearing was barely there anymore, the sleeves being torn and gone, the fold being too far open to provide her with the desired warmth. She turned slightly, looking up only long enough to see the crowd of hateful villagers around her before dropping her head to her bare chest, unable to bear the pain of movement, or the lack of breath.
A taller man appeared out of the crown, a large hammer held up by his callused hands. His eyes, black as coal, peered up at her, hate filling his stare. Looking over her scarlet-drenched form, he stepped cautiously closer, searching for her face through her tangled black locks. To his unshown surprise, her face was still fair, delicate if not for the scars and blood that coated her face. He only wanted this witch to die, but not without looking her in the eye and seeing for himself the torment in her soul.
“Takashi,” he heard her say, her voice cracking under the strain. His eyes softened for a moment, but returned just as quickly to small slits, peering at her, waiting for her to dare speak again. Sure enough, she fought to get out her last request. The man moved so as his face was only a mere foot away from hers and she continued.
“Please, Takashi,” she said quietly, “My life is already too far gone... and I won’t ask you for mercy because I know you won’t give it. But for my sake and yours... please, leave our daughter alone... don’t hurt her. Kagome is not like me, she is pure. And... should you not wish to fulfil my only request... it won’t matter.”
She paused long enough to draw in a breath, “Don’t try to hurt Kagome because... she is already protected by another... and he won’t let this happen to her.”
It was not likely that she saw his slight nod as Takashi lowered himself away from her again, his hand still tightly gripping the handle of his hammer. His eyes still locked with hers, he lifted his large, muscular arms and held his weapon high above his head. Hesitant, he just stared, until at last, a gruff voice from the crown of villagers around him called out, “Do it! The witch deserves pain! She deserves to die!!”
Without another word, the tall man brought his hammer down hard against her dangling legs, bringing a high, pain-filled scream from the dying woman before she let go of life and fell limp in her place, her only support being the two nails that pinned her hands to the sides of the cross. Blood dripped anew from her fresh wounds. Her body hung torn and stained, staying just so, for the village to look at and take pleasure from.
The man still stood there, long after the rest of the people had departed. His hammer still in his hand, the end of which, sat at his feet in the stained soil. His charcoal eyes reflected thought until he released his hammer to fall to his feet and he stood straight, looking up at the gross corpse of a once lovely woman. Her face had already gone pale from the lack of blood and her dark eyes stared unmoving at the ground below her.
“Akemi,” he started, “I don’t regret what I’ve done.” He took a step closer, looking up at her pale face. “But Kagome... she will be safe, from me at least, I promise you that. Anyone else who should go after her are none of my concern. You were wrong, she is not pure. She’s just like you... and...” the man gave a sigh and looked to the ground, “and I refuse to accept the fact that my daughter is a miko. No...” he said, looking up, “She’s not my daughter...no daughter of mine could possess such witchery... such malicious power. But you, Akemi... deserved every bit of pain that was granted to you.”
The man’s shoulders tensed and he took on a gruff, spiteful facade. Pity had never once crossed his mind, nor his heart. His hands, rough and callused, curled into fists and he turned silently, and began his decent down the hill, passing countless bodies of women, fallen crosses, and abandoned weapons. Walking over patches of dead, crimson stained grass and dirt, he failed to look back, being not in the least bit regretful of the pain he’d caused.
by Lady Azure
Prologue: The Sound of Screaming
High in a wasteland littered with bloody corpses, a lone cross stood tall. Upon this cross, a young woman hung tattered, and near death. Surrounding her, among the dead bodies, were malicious villagers, carrying in their hands torches that danced brightly and violently in the night, spears, sharp and fearful, pitchforks in the hands of the farmers, and bows, clutched in the tight grips of the few women among them.
The young woman, hanging above them, lifted her head slightly, only to see her approaching fate. Her teeth clenched from the slight twinge of pain that still remained in each hand, and the rusted nails protruding from them. Despite her attire, embarrassment never crossed her mind. Her red hakama was tattered and dirt-stained, her feet bare and cold. The white haori she’d been wearing was barely there anymore, the sleeves being torn and gone, the fold being too far open to provide her with the desired warmth. She turned slightly, looking up only long enough to see the crowd of hateful villagers around her before dropping her head to her bare chest, unable to bear the pain of movement, or the lack of breath.
A taller man appeared out of the crown, a large hammer held up by his callused hands. His eyes, black as coal, peered up at her, hate filling his stare. Looking over her scarlet-drenched form, he stepped cautiously closer, searching for her face through her tangled black locks. To his unshown surprise, her face was still fair, delicate if not for the scars and blood that coated her face. He only wanted this witch to die, but not without looking her in the eye and seeing for himself the torment in her soul.
“Takashi,” he heard her say, her voice cracking under the strain. His eyes softened for a moment, but returned just as quickly to small slits, peering at her, waiting for her to dare speak again. Sure enough, she fought to get out her last request. The man moved so as his face was only a mere foot away from hers and she continued.
“Please, Takashi,” she said quietly, “My life is already too far gone... and I won’t ask you for mercy because I know you won’t give it. But for my sake and yours... please, leave our daughter alone... don’t hurt her. Kagome is not like me, she is pure. And... should you not wish to fulfil my only request... it won’t matter.”
She paused long enough to draw in a breath, “Don’t try to hurt Kagome because... she is already protected by another... and he won’t let this happen to her.”
It was not likely that she saw his slight nod as Takashi lowered himself away from her again, his hand still tightly gripping the handle of his hammer. His eyes still locked with hers, he lifted his large, muscular arms and held his weapon high above his head. Hesitant, he just stared, until at last, a gruff voice from the crown of villagers around him called out, “Do it! The witch deserves pain! She deserves to die!!”
Without another word, the tall man brought his hammer down hard against her dangling legs, bringing a high, pain-filled scream from the dying woman before she let go of life and fell limp in her place, her only support being the two nails that pinned her hands to the sides of the cross. Blood dripped anew from her fresh wounds. Her body hung torn and stained, staying just so, for the village to look at and take pleasure from.
The man still stood there, long after the rest of the people had departed. His hammer still in his hand, the end of which, sat at his feet in the stained soil. His charcoal eyes reflected thought until he released his hammer to fall to his feet and he stood straight, looking up at the gross corpse of a once lovely woman. Her face had already gone pale from the lack of blood and her dark eyes stared unmoving at the ground below her.
“Akemi,” he started, “I don’t regret what I’ve done.” He took a step closer, looking up at her pale face. “But Kagome... she will be safe, from me at least, I promise you that. Anyone else who should go after her are none of my concern. You were wrong, she is not pure. She’s just like you... and...” the man gave a sigh and looked to the ground, “and I refuse to accept the fact that my daughter is a miko. No...” he said, looking up, “She’s not my daughter...no daughter of mine could possess such witchery... such malicious power. But you, Akemi... deserved every bit of pain that was granted to you.”
The man’s shoulders tensed and he took on a gruff, spiteful facade. Pity had never once crossed his mind, nor his heart. His hands, rough and callused, curled into fists and he turned silently, and began his decent down the hill, passing countless bodies of women, fallen crosses, and abandoned weapons. Walking over patches of dead, crimson stained grass and dirt, he failed to look back, being not in the least bit regretful of the pain he’d caused.