Rating: T Subject to change

Pairing: N/A Subject to change

By: Ekae

Listen to: underneath the ground by Gaslight anthem

If I had no sense of humor, I would long ago have committed suicide.

Gandhi

The world was filled with chromatic shapeless shapes and forms, gaseous and free flowing but connected deep with one another and tangibly tangled, a mixture of light and color glowing but slowly diming then igniting once again. Memories merging and breaking. Nothing, yet existing in memories and gaslight anthem music. Yes, it had been that song, it was easy to remember because it had every question that grew within the mind in the moment which later developed into a poisonous thought that bit and ate.

It had been raining that day too, gray with furious drops of H²O hailing to the dry mud, but there was no sound not even a whisper, the whole of existence had gone silent. Not even a heartbeat could be heard.

Tell my sins to God out loud.

Would you cry, cry 'cause I was gone?

The scene looked like that of someone who had gone insane, methodically painted and placed pieces were sprawled all over the room oh so precariously. All but one.

Would you spit and hiss and curse my name,

And embarrass me to the other graves?

It was on an aisle, complete in its grotesque glory.

The work depicted a rather peculiar scene, the clear blue sky of the world mixed with a rich green earth accompanied by insects soaring through it. The picnic outside was the focal point of the creation. Men and women of all shapes, sizes, and ages adorned with at least one flower on their person, these flowers usually had a meaning along the lines of hope, love, prosperity; it was a rather bright symbolism.

That's enough, my man, it's time to clap our hands.

Call the papers up tomorrow, say we did the best we can.

These people were joyfully eating their picnic and this is was made the work so strange, the participants of the picnic were naively eating rotted and raw food with crawling worms and flies, every single one of them except for the person in the middle. This person was a girl with brown-gray hair falling to just below her chin, she wore a faded and mellowed out yellow sundress, she held in her hands a white flower, and had a sad grimaced carved onto her face, the flowers meaning was quite clear, it only appeared in funerals. The picture was of utter morbid perfection, a twisted last supper. But that mirage was shattered and obliterated with a single spray of the red liquid that violated its tale.

Wanna thank you all for your courtesy.

I wanna thank you all for watching us bleed.

Underneath the ground.

The song repeated vainly to nobody but the things without heartbeats and to the thing the once did.

What have I done…?

No….

I take it back…

I'll try harder….

I d_n_ w_n_ _o g_ y_t….

Please….

The room was dull and white, filled with the smell of medicine. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of machines and the heartbeats of two individuals. One was of a women is a hospital gown and despite being tired and haggard, she kept her beautiful looks with the small soft smile that was graced upon her face as she let her finger be encased by the hands of an infant. There was no one else in their tiny world not even the father.

I'd like to hear what you'd say to me if I was bulletproof and free again.

"Welcome to the world Hibiki." The angelic women gentled whispered.

This was a tester of sorts to see if I should continue from this prologue, if I should let me know.
Also forgive me grammar, it's a bit not good. :p