Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Plate ❯ The Plate ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Name: The Plate
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Warnings: Angst, Adult themes
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy 7. Square Enix does. I make no money from this either.
Note: This is a little experimental piece I wrote for a friend. It doesn't follow correct sentence structure and is mostly made up of small, stunted sentences. As this is an unusual style for me to write in, I would love to hear anyone's opinions on it. Do you hate it? Do you love it? Do you find the structure too damn annoying? Please, tell me what you think. Your thoughts on my attempt at poetry at the end would be very appreciated too. Thanks!
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Darkness. Like cancer, it grew inside of him, unseen and unnoticed by those around him.
Thick, sticky blackness. It had started so small. Just a tiny spot he could ignore. Smile and pretend it wasn't there. Pretend everything was ok. Pretend the wounds inside were healing, scarring over. Pretend that he could look in the mirror without flinching. Lies, so many lies. Lies fed the blackness and made it grow. Made the wound inside seep and fester. Swell and consume.
Nobody saw. They were all blind. All they saw was the smile. All they heard were the jokes. Become a clown and hide the pain. Already had the hair. Burning red, like the flames of that day. The flames that had devoured anything that had survived his crime. His sin. His damnation.
The screaming was coming from inside. At first it had only been at night. He'd close his eyes and it would begin. Hundreds of voices. Men. Women. Children. That's why he couldn't be alone. That's why he would drown it out with alcohol and sex. His body was just a tool. A tool to buy respite. But now it didn't matter anymore. The screaming never stopped. Even when his eyes were open he could hear them. The fear. The terror. The pain.
Nothing but a puppet. Slave to the puppet masters strings. Follow your orders, good little Turk. Follow your orders straight to hell.
I am…..what am I?
by Madisuzy
I am the wisps of smoke
Dissipating in the breeze
After the fire burns out
I am the memory of what was
What could have been before
What can never be again
I am pain personified
I am hope abandoned
I am despair