Post by The Blank Magician on Feb 6, 2007 19:54:57 GMT -5
If you want to read short stories about Avatar, here you are.
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Bad Dream
It was peaceful all around him, as he sat cross-legged on the ground. His feet were bare, feeling the soft grass beneath him. His better ear could pick up the faintest sounds; the rustling branches, the ripple on the water, the hushed chirp of a bird. Even though his eyes were closed, he could see it all in his mind. He was deep in his meditation.
“Coward!”
The voice, only a breath of wind, hardly registered in his mind. It was only a whisper.
“Loathsome, piteous boy.”
It was louder now, enough to make his brow furrow. But after a minute of silence, he forgot about it, sinking back into his trance.
“Unfit for life. Hateful, dishonored, worm-on-the-ground!”
The sound was too loud now, too loud to concentrate. His eyes flew open.
The scene was laid out beautifully, everything he had pictured. Except, across the small pond a girl was standing. Her clothes were torn and worn, so faded he could hardly tell what color they were. They were soiled and he even thought he saw bloodstains. Her hair was a tangled mess, brown mixed with dirt. Her face was a horror, her smile malicious. He stared.
“Who are you?” He said aloud, growing slightly angry. She smiled, showing broken and blackened teeth.
“Darkness.” She rasped. “Pain, depression, fear, anger, misery, panic. Death.” She watched him like someone watching a mildly interesting show. He grew uneasy and even more irritated. Her smile grew wider.
“The question should be who are you?” Her voice was a pain to his ears.
“I am Prince Zuko! Who are you really?” He thundered, standing up now. “Why were you insulting me?” She didn’t move or even flinch.
“I am Death. I am who I say I am. But who are you really? Do you know who you are?” She frowned. “I know. You are a nasty, detested, dishonorable, banished Prince of Nowhere!” Her eyes were filled with an unending hatred. His patience was almost out. He gritted his teeth.
“I am the Prince of the Fire Nation, wench! I could kill you right now!” He spoke through his clenched teeth, desperately trying to put out the flames appearing around his hands. Her face was emotionless.
“Kill me then, if you say you can. Kill me. I dare you to.” She whispered it, like a threat. He let out his breath slowly, the fire extinguished. She smiled without any real pleasure.
“Your father is wrong and you are wrong. You are both disgraceful. You have both disgraced your nation and its people. You will both die for it. You are the same.” She hissed. He let out a cloud of smoke and a yell.
“I am not!” He screamed and began to run towards her, around the pond.
“Look at what you both have done.” She said, above his attack cry.
All around them were people.
He stopped moving, dead in his tracks.
They were crowded, all around him, pushing in on him from all sides. Their faces were pale, their eyes dark and haunted, their skin white and fragile looking. Their mouths opened silently, trying to cry out, trying to speak, to cry, to scream. They touched him, his face, his arm, his chest. Their fingers were cold and stiff.
The fingers of the dead.
And for the second time in his life, he was scared.
He was scared. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t breath.
“Look what you’ve done. Look what you’ve done. Look what you’ve done.” She chanted steadily growing louder. He voice echoed in his ears.
“Look what you’ve done. Look what the war has done. Look at the dead. Look at their faces. Look into their eyes. Look into their souls. Look at what they have lost.
Look at what you have done.”
He opened his mouth to speak, to protest.
“No, I-I didn’t. I didn’t…” He faltered as the things that had once been alive pressed closer to him. He could see the sadness in their eyes, the longing in their hearts, the longing for his warmth, the longing for his life. He tried to back away but they were all around him, closing in on him, suffocating him…
Look what you’ve done.
____________________________________________________________
Bad Dream
It was peaceful all around him, as he sat cross-legged on the ground. His feet were bare, feeling the soft grass beneath him. His better ear could pick up the faintest sounds; the rustling branches, the ripple on the water, the hushed chirp of a bird. Even though his eyes were closed, he could see it all in his mind. He was deep in his meditation.
“Coward!”
The voice, only a breath of wind, hardly registered in his mind. It was only a whisper.
“Loathsome, piteous boy.”
It was louder now, enough to make his brow furrow. But after a minute of silence, he forgot about it, sinking back into his trance.
“Unfit for life. Hateful, dishonored, worm-on-the-ground!”
The sound was too loud now, too loud to concentrate. His eyes flew open.
The scene was laid out beautifully, everything he had pictured. Except, across the small pond a girl was standing. Her clothes were torn and worn, so faded he could hardly tell what color they were. They were soiled and he even thought he saw bloodstains. Her hair was a tangled mess, brown mixed with dirt. Her face was a horror, her smile malicious. He stared.
“Who are you?” He said aloud, growing slightly angry. She smiled, showing broken and blackened teeth.
“Darkness.” She rasped. “Pain, depression, fear, anger, misery, panic. Death.” She watched him like someone watching a mildly interesting show. He grew uneasy and even more irritated. Her smile grew wider.
“The question should be who are you?” Her voice was a pain to his ears.
“I am Prince Zuko! Who are you really?” He thundered, standing up now. “Why were you insulting me?” She didn’t move or even flinch.
“I am Death. I am who I say I am. But who are you really? Do you know who you are?” She frowned. “I know. You are a nasty, detested, dishonorable, banished Prince of Nowhere!” Her eyes were filled with an unending hatred. His patience was almost out. He gritted his teeth.
“I am the Prince of the Fire Nation, wench! I could kill you right now!” He spoke through his clenched teeth, desperately trying to put out the flames appearing around his hands. Her face was emotionless.
“Kill me then, if you say you can. Kill me. I dare you to.” She whispered it, like a threat. He let out his breath slowly, the fire extinguished. She smiled without any real pleasure.
“Your father is wrong and you are wrong. You are both disgraceful. You have both disgraced your nation and its people. You will both die for it. You are the same.” She hissed. He let out a cloud of smoke and a yell.
“I am not!” He screamed and began to run towards her, around the pond.
“Look at what you both have done.” She said, above his attack cry.
All around them were people.
He stopped moving, dead in his tracks.
They were crowded, all around him, pushing in on him from all sides. Their faces were pale, their eyes dark and haunted, their skin white and fragile looking. Their mouths opened silently, trying to cry out, trying to speak, to cry, to scream. They touched him, his face, his arm, his chest. Their fingers were cold and stiff.
The fingers of the dead.
And for the second time in his life, he was scared.
He was scared. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t breath.
“Look what you’ve done. Look what you’ve done. Look what you’ve done.” She chanted steadily growing louder. He voice echoed in his ears.
“Look what you’ve done. Look what the war has done. Look at the dead. Look at their faces. Look into their eyes. Look into their souls. Look at what they have lost.
Look at what you have done.”
He opened his mouth to speak, to protest.
“No, I-I didn’t. I didn’t…” He faltered as the things that had once been alive pressed closer to him. He could see the sadness in their eyes, the longing in their hearts, the longing for his warmth, the longing for his life. He tried to back away but they were all around him, closing in on him, suffocating him…
Look what you’ve done.