To reply, post publically or e-mail the author at <deepquote@hotmail.com>
Enjoy!
The FFML Refugee List
Author's note: The following is a one shot really really really rough
draft. While it is not very Ranma evident right now it will be come that way
later. The idea would not go away!! So please help me out with this one, so
I can get back to HA!!
Thanks
DQ
The Storm
by DeepQuote <deepquote@hotmail.com>
"No soul of earth was ever so rapt
to seek it's good or flee its injury
as I was.-"
- Dante "The Inferno" Canto II
Countless gray clouds flowed slowly across the night sky, as the
pale moon peek from behind them occasionally. While the night was still
young, the storm brewing within the clouds had been there since the day
began. It was a rather unusual phenomenon. a large cold front had moved in
over the mountains, and then suddenly stopped. With each passing moment, the
storm grew restless, wanting to be released from whatever force held it in
place. The cold front had cooled down the temperature leaving the night with
a temperature neither hot nor cold. It was just a rather neutral
temperature, however the storm that hung in the clouds above threaten to
change that with each crack of thunder.
Aeons ago, these mountains stood tall and proud high above the land
and sea. Time, however had not been kind to them, as rain, wind, snow and
ice had reduced them to simple over grown hills as far as the eye could see.
The region was sparsely populate, almost all people preferring the
comforts of "civilization" to the simple pleasures of mountian life. Some
homes did dot the countryside, a good many of them abandoned, and more than
a few of them home to hermits and mountain men seeking solitude. The
moutains were a place of peace, a place away from home, and more importantly
a refuge. A refuge sanctioned by the government to protect plant and animals
alike. It didn't hurt that more than a hand full of people also sought
refuge here.
The old cabin was like any other you would expect to see in the
woods. It's age was shown quite clearly by the colored timbers grey with
age, and the wind blown dust deeply imbedded within its old wall.
Surprisingly for all the cabin had seen, it was in remarkably good shape.
Upon closer inspections, bright new timbers reinforced the ancient walls.
Small flashes of moonlight revealed the new nails connect the walls back
together. A section of new timber revealed the roof had recently been
patched. Candle light ilumminated the small windows, showing that someone
was indeed home. The cabin itself seemed to take on a half built look with
it's new improvements and age old walls. In front of the cabin was a large
tree stump. So large in fact, it most have towered over it's neighbors
before it fell. Looking closely at the stump, one might come to the
conclusion that it was the death of that very tree which cause the creation
of the cabin.
In the very center of the old tree's grave marker, was it's murderer.
Almost looking as old as the stump itself. Deeply imbedded in the very heart
of the tree was an axe. It's wooden handle extenting at an angle toward the
cabin, as if pointing towards it's user. Following the direction of the
axe, we come across the cover porch. Sitting there alone, and deathly silent
was a young man. Clear blue eyes shone out into the night from underneath a
mop a unruly dark hair. Slumper in a crudely made rocking chair, the man
sat unmoving, except for an occasional blink from his eyes. Plainly clothed
in a dirty white t-shirt and a simple pair of black pants, the only thing
remarkable about the young man was the emotion his eyes guarded. This was
a man who wore a guarded face.
The look in this man eye's made people get out of his way, when
crossing his path. This expression would make any punk, not feel that oday
was his lucky day. Off to the man's right was a small glass, filled with a
small about of an obscure brown liquid. The man's first motion in the last
few hours was only to raise the glass to his lips and take a small sip.
Despite the small about of the sip, the fragant liquid burned the back of
the man's throat as it slide down into his stomach. A small grunt was the
only reaction to the minimal amount of discomfort. Only his second glass of
the liquid today, the warmth spreads slowly throughout his body.
The wind picks up speed, as countless trays sway to it's power. More
thunder rumbles omniously in the distance, an exclamation of things to come.
Dust and branches fly as the wind continue to beckon, sending debris away
from the cabin, almost point down the path infront of the old cabin. As the
wind picked up, and the thunder continued to roll throughout the country
side, The old axe gleamed in the moonlight, as the man's eyes rested upon
it. His lips formed into a small line as his memory cleared, as he
remembered. Swinging the axe in the heat of day, swinging the axe as the day
fell, and placing it in the very spot it was now. It hadn't taken 2 days,
but he had finally managed to fix up the old cabin. It had taken a lot of
sweat, blood and hard work, but he had done it. Although, he was no
carpenter, he was quite proud of the improvement he had made to the old
cabin.
For him rebuilding the cabin, has been the closest thing to therapy
he would allow himself. Working with his hands and building something
worthwhile, it was quite a feeling. It was also a good way to hide from the
reason he came out her. A reason he had left his home, his family, his
friends, and he hoped all his memories of....her. She was the type of woman
everyone noticed, whether they wanted to or not. There was just something
about, some upsoken, unseen factor, which drew men, and trouble to her like
flies to honey. The only problem was she enjoyed it too much. He didn't see
at first, but later after all was said an done. The truth did as it usually
does, it came out. It hurt as the truth often does, however in this case it
was more dangerous than most. A man like him, could level a city block with
breaking a sweat, or even being caught for it. A man like him, had very few
people that could match him, and even less that would dare try to.
It had been six months since... It all happened. Six months of
pain, distraction, memories, and eventually departure. Six months in which
to live, learn, and breath as if the past had never happened. How can a
person rebuild themselves after a pain that lasted years? He had yet to
figure it out. Out of answers, and out of patience, he sought answers else
where. That path had lead him here, to the moutains, to the cabin in need
of repair, to the old bottle of bourbon hidden below the floor boards. He
had yet to find his answer, but for some reason, he stayed. In his bones, he
felt the answer was here, maybe under a rock, or hidden in a tree. The
answer was here.
Taking his eyes from the woods, he looked into his hands, hands that
learned how to fight since he was little, the hands that had defeated a god,
hands that has never failed him, hands that hand saved a great man people
from their own death. Death due to their own stupidity or due to the
inheritent evil in the world. Saving people was his speciality, the knight
in shining armor, even if he was affraid of cats. Right now, he was
learning the hard way, In order to save someone, you have to be able to save
yourself. Scars from battle won, and battle lost adorn his hands, callouses
from a life of martial arts, and callouses from swing an old axe also
adorned his hands.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
desaix@sysnet.net
Sir Desaix, member # 116 of the Knights of the True Fiancee
anime fanfics available at
http://www.geocities.com/zednik.geo/fanfics.htm
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