Slayers Fan Fiction ❯ I Years Had Been From Home ❯ Home ( One-Shot )

I Years Had Been From Home

Hey minna! ^_^ This short little poemfic doohickey is the result of my American Lit teacher shoving Emily Dickinson (DIE!! DIE!!! *stabs her corpse*) down our throats (this is the ONE poem I can stand, and it reminded me of Zelly J ) Now THAT'S scary! I typed a smiley face and it made it! J It did it again! o.O;; Anyway, have fun!

Disclaimer: I don't own Slayers, as much as I reallyreallyreallyreallyreally want to! L Now it made a sad face! *hides* Oh yeah, I don't own Emily Dickinson either (DIEEEEEEE!!!)

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I Years had been from Home

And now before the Door

His footsteps fell heavily, hesitant, upon the road that was forever etched in his memory. How many years had it been? He wondered to silently to himself. Certainly no more than ten. Time had not changed the place, so much as he could tell. Or perhaps it was simply that he did not want to see anything different, did not wish to acknowledge the fact that his life would never return to what it was.

All to soon he was before the door, staring at the house that haunted his best, and worst, memories. And yet it represented the deepest desire of his buried heart, the desire to be accepted by the world.

I dared not open, lest a face

I never saw before

Stare vacant into mine

And Ask my Business there

He paused before he set foot on the stair, not wishing to approach further for fear that somebody unknown would look out and see only a strange creature standing there. Someone that would see him not as family, but as a complete and total stranger. Or worse- as the demon that he feared to be.

My Business- just a Life I left

Was such still dwelling there?

Home. That one small word had been the basis of his life for so long. All of it, the questing for that unattainable cure. The bitter continuation, day after day, in the desperate hope that one day, he could return home. Normal.

I fumbled at my Nerve

I scanner the Windows o'er

The Silence like an Ocean rolled

And broke against my Ear

A soft sigh escaped stony lips as his eyes slid over the empty windows. He had come to prefer the silence, love it even, as he went about his travels. Now it only unnerved him, added to his tension. Even the slightest breath of the warm summer breeze made him start,

A sudden peal of laughter made him spin around. No one was there; there was no reason for anyone to be there. Long-buried memories played themselves out before his eyes: his sister, giggling as she ran away from his two brothers; himself, watching his younger siblings from the porch, a smile on his face; the sound of his mother humming happily as she made their dinner.

He brushed the thoughts away impatiently, returning his focus to the door.

I Laughed a Wooden Laugh

That I could fear a Door

Who Danger and the Dead had faced

But never shook before

A sudden though struck him then, one so ludicrous he nearly laughed. He, he, who had fought some of the worst nightmares the world could produce, who had stared death in the face time after time, was afraid of a silly door.

I fitted to the Latch my Hand

With trembling Care

Lest back the awful Door should spring

And leave me standing there

His sudden burst of confidence propelled him forward. However, he paused as his fingers brushed the door handle as gently as could be, worry shooting through his veins like ice.

The sight of his blue hands suddenly repulsed him; the memories of failure and hate came flooding back. People running away screaming, "Demon!" tore at his heart; the shocked and hateful stares of those who judged him not by himself, but by his face. Fear of disdain, or rejection, cracked his stony facade.

I moved my fingers off, as

Cautiously as Glass

And held my Ears and like a thief

Stole gasping from the house

His hand wavered, then released the doorknob. He pressed his palms to the sides of his head, shaking violently. Crystalline tears splashed to the ground, one after another. He turned and fled silently away, not looking back.

An elderly woman opened the door, staring out mournfully at the empty world. Years had not appeased the longing for her lost son. This time, she had been sure that he was there. But there was nothing but the quiet summer breeze.