Title: This Bitter Earth
Notes: Not beta’d. Originally published on Fanfiction.net February 22, 2003.
The sheets fell to his waist as he straight up. He was breathing heavily and his verdant eyes glowed intensely with fear. His silver bangs were drenched in sweat. The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally willing himself to calm down. After all, it was only a dream. More precisely, it was a nightmare. He turned his head to the left and glanced at the clock sitting on the black night stand. The red digits on the clock read 5:47 a.m., Midgar Standard Time.
“I have to get up six anyway,” he said out loud to the empty room.
It was a habit he had. He grew up for the most part alone. Whenever the silence became too much for him to bear, he spoke to himself. He thought of it as a reminder that he did exist and wasn’t going crazy.
“It’s the 13th time I’ve dreamed that same dream. But, what was it about?”
Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the dream. He remembered that it felt like a scene out of a movie. It had an unreal feeling to it. There was a voice, he remembered. The voice was so hauntingly beautiful and seductive that it could possibly drive one mad. A mental image of a blood-soaked, white feather flashed in his mind. He frowned as this image deeply disturbed. True, he hardly ever had pleasant dreams, but none of them had ever disturbed him as deeply as this one. It felt like a warning almost.
He chuckled to himself. It was silliness on his part, and nothing more. The alarm went off, filling the small apartment with a loud shrill. His left hand hit the top of the alarm clock and it was quiet again. The man rose to begin another repetitious day.
A/N: Thank you for the reviews! You guys are beautiful. The language used in the prologue is Italian. I wanted to use Latin, but I don’t know Latin. French (which I can write and read fairly well but can’t speak it to save my life) didn’t seem very mysterious to me, so I opted for Italian, which, if anyone knows Italian, can tell I don’t know it very well.
That is Sephiroth in the prologue, along with the villain and heroine. Can you guess who says what? The prologue sounds weird I guess. but I was reading some philosophy before I started writing it.
I lost my notes, but the Italian bits go something like this:
Light can not exist in the dark.
Every man is an island; we all stand alone.
I dream of blood.
It begins with one word – a letter really.
I am are words of divine power.
A killer of what?
Do I even have a soul? Does the soul exist?
Dream of blood.
Blood of angels.
This chapter is short, but hey, I write whenever I’m bored or half asleep. When I’m bored, everything’s short. When I’m half asleep, everything is long with a bunch mistakes I missed while proofreading. Oh well. In the next chapter, I introduce another character.