An Untitled Fragment.

[rxelyn]

Okay... so I actually wanted to do a oneshot inspired by lyrics from Helloween. But I discovered that I really like to make things complicated by expanding the plot so much that it's impossible to explain everything and resolve everything easily within say... 10 pages?

Sumire wrote some works that had a beginning. And some that had an end. But never one that had both a beginning and an end. Not that she suffered from writer's block - far from it. She wrote endlessly, everything that came into her head. The problem was that she wrote too much. You'd think that all she'd had to do was cut out the extra parts and she'd be fine, but things weren't that wasy. She could never decide on the big picture - what was necessary and what wasn't.

~ Sputnik Sweetheart (pgs 13 and 14)

title: fragments
universe: Mercy (to be confirmed)
type: incomplete; sketch
pairing: none
notes: So yeah, basically, plot derived from Helloween's Invisible Man and also this manga called Soul Kiss, if I recall correctly since I deleted it away once I finished it. Anyway, anyone with knowledge of hierarchy of angels? Like... do Thrones (wielders of justice apparently and basically God's eyes) have the license to kill? Ironically, I find that although I am not Catholic/Christian/other branches, there are a lot of such imagery in whatever that I write. Huh.

My name is Seth. And I am an average teenager of seventeen with black hair and blue eyes, and pale skin that sunburns easily. Yet every time I stand before the mirror and mouth my name to myself, this entire persona seems extremely surreal. I don't believe that my name is Seth, nor that I am just your ordinary mortal. But nothing proves otherwise, and I am only defined by this name. No memories of the past, no family, no friends. I went to sleep in an unfamiliar place and woke up in yet another unfamiliar place; that is the extent of what I recall from when I woke up in the current apartment that I reside in. That was... about 2 weeks ago.

And today? Today I recall that my name is Seth only because that is what other people address me by and yet to myself, I am not Seth because this feels incredibly wrong but I don't know why.

The current apartment that I am living in is sparsely decorated, with only the bare necessities taking up minimum amount of space. A bed, a desk where my identity card laid innocently face up, presenting me with an inkling of myself. Apparently I was born in December, two days before Christmas, seventeen years ago. I don't know, but I certainly don't feel like a teenager, maybe years older. Maybe more. But I can't be sure, and shouldn't these facts be reliable?

There is also a small bookcase, almost empty, except for a small bound version of the Bible and some random books written in Spanish, which I find myself unable to read. Guess I never took Spanish in high school then. A nondescript black bag containing some school books was neatly hung from the frame of the only chair in the room. Looking through them, it seemed that I was pretty good in my studies, taking subjects like AP American History and Calculus. A chest of drawers revealed some clothes, all in black or white though and hidden beneath the layers of these drab clothing was a gun. The safety was on, thankfully, or I might have accidentally shot myself in the foot already. I don't think I ever used a gun, or even held one before...

Of course, there were also the usual facilities, like the bathroom which was completely empty and a kitchen with some expired milk in the fridge. Other than these,there were no clues to my identity. Not even some family picture or a note from anyone.

Okay... back to doing up gp project... which is making me crave for a cool glass of coca-cola... which means that its pervasive advertising succeeded to a large extent. XD