Howl's Moving Castle Fan Fiction ❯ Reject Fairytale ❯ The Effects Of War ( Chapter 1 )

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

Well, I'm a SophiexHowl supporter, but people were asking for a fanfic without Sophie. So I picked up my laptop and started to write this rejected version of Howl's Moving Castle. I thought it would be kind of interesting to see what I can take from Howl and, while still keeping the story the same except for the fact that Sophie is not here, still make the story my own. OCs are added and I guess this might be a good one for all of you crazy Howl fangirls who don't like Sophie :) Ha! Surprisingly, there are a lot of people like that! Okay, now on to the fic! I apologize in advance for any spelling and grammatical errors. Point any you see out.

Anime/Manga: Howl's Moving Castle Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Fantasy / Romance | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 04.11.2008 | Updated On: 04.12.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Work In Progress

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Reject Fairytale

Chapter One: The Effects Of War

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The day had been clear and bright. Howl had ordered Calcifer to begin his bath and move the castle near a town only a mere thirty miles north of their location. It was small town of Pestwick— quiet and not well known and perfect for keep a low profile.

Ever since the war had started, Howl had been dreading the letter he'd knew would soon come calling him to help with the war effort as both Jenkins and Pendragon. But he, the terrible coward that he was, would not attend; only keep running. Of course, he did have his other reasons to keep moving the castle and working the fire demon like a dog, one being the Witch of the Waste.

Authors make war seem glorious in books— take Gone With The Wind for instance. It seemed that in every one of the books the men came back heroes and were awarded with women and medals, something making men pick up their rifles and run off to war after reading the books. But what of the ones who did not come back? It really makes you think, what good is war if some of our own will not return? Why fight in one; what good would it do? Do people just enjoy the bloodshed? To enjoy it, you'd have to be cold-hearted and unfeeling, right?

They hadn't been near the town for very long, perhaps only a few hours. The sun slowly fell in the sky, turning the day into evening, and the evening into night. The peace was broken with the sounds of explosions and screams. A tall black building seeming to be made of blocks and coal with four thin turrets was perched on a hill above the commotion down in Pestwick.

“Master Howl, look!” Markl exclaimed as he burst into the bathroom's door. He looked toward the tub where Howl lay, eyes closed, submerged deep enough into the water so that only his nose up was left dry. He was … asleep! Howl awoke with a jolt in cooling water, but settled back down at seeing it was only Markl who had called to him. He closed his eyes, but when he didn't hear Markl say anything or hear him leave, he cracked one weary eye open, then the other before he stood, wrapping a towel around himself. He shot his apprentice a questioning look. “The town down there is being attacked!”

Howl turned his head to look out of the window with a bored expression. It was drizzling, the sky was dark, unlike how it had been earlier, and the screams from the townspeople only added to the grim mood.

“Hmm, so it is.”

The town had seemed so peaceful, being it was smallest and quietest they'd been in for a while. He sort of missed the sense of security he had begun to develop.

Turning to his apprentice, Howl smiled and all too cheerily said, “I guess we'll have to be moving again.”

“You mean you just wanna leave?” Markl asked, not really shocked, but just a question asked on impulse; it's what any person would ask in the situation. He was used to this. Howl was a coward that was always running. Would he ever stop?

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The adrenaline washed over Vinca like a tsunami. The remains of buildings that had been destroyed in the explosions were strewn over the area, turning the town into a labyrinth. Thoughts of finding her friends and family flowed into her mind, dulling the sounds of the explosions. Diana was at her heels, trying to keep up with her mistress. Occasionally, she'd hiss as people swerved past her, but kept her main goal at the top of her mind: staying with Vin.

Suddenly, Vinca collided with a hard chest, causing her to fall backwards and land on her rear. The book sat in her lap and she could hear Diana's claws scraping against the dirt road, mixed in with the stomps of people's feet as they ran past her, uncaring.

“Watch where you're going,” someone angrily spat out before continuing to follow the others who were running from the town.

She couldn't get up for a second, things were just too overwhelming. Diana dodged people's feet as they passed. But When people passed Vinca, stepping on her hands and kicking her as they ran blindly towards where they thought safety would be, she just sat there. It hurt and she wanted to get up, but she couldn't bring herself to move for a while.

With immense effort, Vinca was able to calm her ragged breathing, hold back the tears threatening to break free from the dam her eyelids had created, and stand. Her hand had been crushed so many times that it was swollen and bleeding. Still, she just wanted her family and kept moving in the direction of her burning house on the outskirts of town.

`It's okay,' she told herself— she lied to herself. She knew things were not okay. `You'll find Momma and Papa and Nirvana and Lina and Karl …' the list of people in her mind grew longer and longer as she thought of friends and family. She didn't want to think of what may have happened to them and tried to keep herself in high spirits by telling herself she would find them. She kept running, her own thoughts pounding in her ears. She felt sick.

Above all things on her list, she'd worried about her younger sister the most; innocent Kanna. Kanna was no longer just her step-sister, but she became like a fragile piece of glass in her older sister's mind. A fragile piece of glass caught in a rampage, Vinca thought grimly. She gripped the book in her hands, pressing it close to her chest as tears streamed down her face.

Vinca reached down mid-sprint for Diana, holding her close with one arm and her book in the other. A flash illuminated the surrounding area. Everything seemed to slow down. She screamed, clutching Diana tightly to her bosom and burying her face into her fur.

All war was causing for dozens of people like her was sorrow and pain. What good was war?