Not by me, but deserve to be shared

[Youko's Rose]

Tadaa.

Two short stories. Tell me whatcha think. The author will be honored by your opinions. :3


First one's called The Dawn

It was midnight in the city streets, and unknown to the inhabitants as they sat inside, sleeping and dreaming of tomorrow, a woman in a dusty gray trench coat roamed the sidewalks, very quietly, her face hidden beneath her hood; her intentions for the walk known only to herself. She began walking slowly at first, with a sort of elegance seldom seen in this place... her movement, if to be compared, seemed only matched by the grace of a swan.

As the old and ragged trench coat flapped in the wind, it caught the attention of the only other soul roaming the city streets in the night: a little boy. The woman, still walking ever so elegantly, approached him... but he seemed to turn away. The boy, it seemed, was lost, and it looked as if he had been crying for a long time.

The woman merely smiled at him then, accepting his fear, but silencing it slowly, as she let her black hair down, illuminated by nearby fireflies, and shined her face upon him. With one look at her, the boy seemed to warm with trust... She then outstretched her hand, kindly, to lead the boy to where she was walking.

Coincidentally, the boy's home was not very far from this path... But tired and confused, the boy could not realize that, and so she carried him in her arms with great care, smiling like he was her own, as his comfort seemed to be limitless... Her disposition was that of pure magnificence; the boy could not even feel the vibrations of her black heels slowly tapping the ground as she walked, for her upper body was barely moving. He soon fell asleep in her arms...

She seemed to know the path to his house very well, almost as if she had lived there, herself. She walked right in through the front door with no hesitation, and set him on the nearest couch... She then kissed his forehead gently, as his sleeping lips formed a smile. As she walked out the door now, she raised her hood and began to walk again... but this time, faster than before.

The pace seemed to pick up with every five or more steps, until it was clearly obvious, now having traveled a great distance from the boy’s house in mere seconds, that she was no longer walking in her normal, elegant way; she ran... fast... faster than the fireflies could see -- faster than the wind could touch... she ran. The cunning of her movement was simply otherworldly, but her destination was still of long range...

Four hours passed as the trench coat-clad woman still ran, never seeming to grow weary and never slowing down from this trance that she had developed. Her trench coat flapping wildly and untamed behind her, she took absolutely no interest in anything but what lie ahead... She was on a mission, as it seemed -- one she had no intention of breaking free from.

Another hour passed, and still no rest for this woman. It was now five in the morning... but strangely, there was no sun – not even the tiniest sign of it; only black dreariness painted throughout the entire sky – such a curious sight... The night now seemed more everlasting than beautiful; there was obviously something very wrong...

Five-thirty, and still no rest; she ran as fast as she possibly could, defying every single boundary of the human body, never caring to look back, because all of this night seemed the same: barren and somber... She refused to stop running...

As minutes, seeming like life sentences ticked by, approaching the next hour, light still refused to show itself to the city, screaming in a muffled defiance that no one could hear... except for her.

Finally, as the hour became at hand, the woman now slowed down gradually, until her striking way of walking resumed once more... for she had reached her destination: a large clock tower, seeming to reach into the dark sky and kiss the lips of heaven itself... The clock tower shined a dismal truth to the woman now, not even breathless after hours of non-stop running: she had merely a minute left before the hour came to this city.

She then looked up into the sky now, calm as a river, as she seemed to put her hands in a praying position. After about ten seconds of complete silence, she resumed motion... but not just any motion... -- she leapt. Amazingly, with one skilled back flip, she landed onto the fire escape of the closest building to the tower -- something that would have stunned even the world’s greatest acrobats...

It was quite apparent now, to the night sky, to the fireflies, shining in the absence of light, and to the little boy, fast asleep in his home, that this was not an ordinary woman; this was something not of this world -- a force not of this life or of this earth...

She ascended the fire escape as fast as she could, until she reached the top of the building. So now she stood, adjacent to the clock tower, its eternal and universal truth now being the only source of light above these buildings...

This creature, now having traveled the greatest of distances for one purpose, now removed her hood, letting down her hair to the cold, night sky, as the seconds grew thin; her eyes, deep and enigmatic, shined with a grace not many get the chance to see in their lives... They scanned the area, making sure the streets were empty... The darkness still embraced this city, as only a few mere seconds stood between the next hour and the hour previous; it was time...

Without any more hesitation, she closed her eyes... As she did this, two large humps began to take shape among the back of her trench coat... Suddenly, the creature stood up, and screamed into the sky. She raised her arms in a triangular shape as her wings sprung out from her trench coat, multi-colored and neon, like a tetra of true and divine dementia. The force and magnitude of this tore into the blackness, and wounded the night sky. The sky responded with a swift opening of the clouds, letting its wound bleed a morning that comforted the hearts of many that day... as light had come at last.

The angel now looked up... and smiled. She then took refuge in the ruins of her trench coat, as she closed her eyes again... "My name is Dawn... and I am back," she uttered with her pale lips, as she then flew down to the desolate city streets, before light could truly reveal its bringer. She blew a kiss to the clock tower, and then disappeared within the shadows of the buildings...

That very day, the forenoon was more beautiful than ever before; the colors, bright and alive flew through the sky with love... and after a few hours passed, a young boy awoke from the most amazing dream he had ever had in his short life. He looked outside the window to see the most beautiful sky... and gave it a smile.

"The Dawn,” he whispered with joy. He took a few more moments to indulge in the warmth of the sun before entering the next room to find his parents... who had cried themselves to sleep the previous night over their missing son.

[Youko's Rose]

Next we have Duel of Melody. Again, please give your opinions. The author loves to hear constructive criticism/support :3

With one slow breath, eyes closed, feet firmly planted upon the white ground, he reaches for his sword with his breath visible. He removes his pride and joy from its darkened sleeve and becomes entranced by the sound of the emerging metal. As his exhale finishes, his eyes now shoot open -- vigilant, but calm, tasting now the winter air with but one inhale. His teeth now chilled, his blood now cold, a confident glance appears upon his face, pale and bluish beneath the crescent moon.

His eyes, deep as the ocean, gaze into a hateful stare; but curious as it is, the stare he faces is as if his very soul is mirrored before him; the eyes of his mortal adversary, hiding in the shadows are identical to his own. Strange, he thinks, but there is no afterthought. He has no idea why he is here now or why he needs to fight, but like a subconscious demand -- a hunger -- the need, the lust, the complete and absolute want of combat beckons him like a deep and fulfilling kiss.

Behind him, however, the veil of this snowy night lifts to reveal a darkened sadness; he turns his head as a sound tempts the drums of his ears. Behind him, holding a violin with her eyes closed is a lone woman not dressed for winter -- dressed more for a funeral, it seems; draped in a decadent shade of black, her apparent deep and brooding sadness is worn on the outside of her body. Her pale skin, illuminated by the moon is perfect to his eyes; like the memory of an embrace, her somber expression haunts him... he does not yet know why.

Forgetting all thoughts of his enemy's hateful yet familiar stare, this mysterious woman, like a dancer in his mind, holds his concentration captive for a few blissful seconds as she plays her violin; her strings now penetrating his very soul, leaving no thought untouched. The song she plays sends chills down his spine; it is raw, unbridled emotion, like a stab to his gut, it speaks to him in a way that his lust for violence never has before.

Shattering his entanglement in her music like glass, he remembers only seconds before, his need that lay before him; a battle is brewing. The eyes of his enemy are the only part he can see still, and they still seem to reflect his own like a twin. Regardless, though, he can see his enemy's sword, and it's pointing straight to his heart.

Slowly, he calms his breathing, becoming deeply fixated on the eyes that resemble his own; he forms a rhythm with his breathing. His inhale and exhale form a perfect tempo. What's more, it seems, is that now he realizes the woman is still playing, and amazingly, her melody is in perfect sync with his breathing.

Growing restless, his enemy slowly begins drawing circles in the night sky, slicing, swishing and, in defiance to all rational explanation, becoming one with the growing song. The enemy's swishing of his sword now lies in perfect harmony to the growing, eerie nocturne of this snowy nightfall.

The man in the shadows swishes ever louder, his sword into the black clouds and then breathes in, and breathes out... The enemy's breaths are now too, in complete sync with the violin. The woman starts playing ever louder, her emotion now evident in the song. The first man looks back at her, her tears pouring out, blackened and wet. It appears as if whole other worlds lie within her tears; worlds that he slowly begins to dream of.

But, breaking those dreams, again, is the man in the shadows, now laughing. Slowly he points his sword to his opponent's heart again, but this time, he finally swings. The first man readies himself, blocking his enemy's attack; the first clash of the two metals sparks a tiny hellfire between them, to the utter delight of the man in the shadows.

The woman now plays with even more emotion, her notes lower and growing sadder with each passing heartbeat; yet, strange and miraculous as it seems, the hearts of the three blend in with perfect harmony and timing.

Suddenly, shadows now lift from the second man, as his face is now revealed to the first... they are the exact same face, identical in every way. The two men are face to face in the limelight, both seemingly looking into a mirror. The second man now echoes a chilling taunt to his double, as their swords lie entwined. "She is Melody," he whispers, "and she is playing your eulogy."

The first man says nothing; his hatred for his enemy -- his mirror reflected image, growing with every sad note by the woman, his rhythmic breathing not stopping for his enemy's daunting words. The woman, Melody, now begins to transition into a complicated refrain, both slow and intense at the same time, both beautiful and heart wrenching. Both men stand eye-to-eye, seemingly unfazed now.

Without warning, the first man strikes; he finds air. His enemy lunges at him, clanging his sword to the other, both men now fully locked within battle's hellish trance. Left, right, up, down, no move on either side can touch a blade to skin. The first man changes his stance, batting away in front of him, letting his sword guide his eyes.

The second man now retaliates with one flying jab of his steel, clanging against the first man's sword. The two men seem to dance around the snowy ground, both promising death to the other. The swishing and clanging, echoing beautifully still with Melody's chilling violin, and now, all three infect the night with their deadly song: "inhale, clang, exhale, clash, inhale, clang, exhale, clash". The faster they fight, the more intense the song becomes; Melody plays on with her very bare soul evident in each stroke of her strings.

Continuing for what seems like forever, both men never falter; still each other's twin in every way, unrelenting their sworn hatred towards the other; neither having one single regret. Still moving around the snow in a complete circle, clanging their instruments nonstop, the song takes on a new life, its tone deafening but its impact breathtaking. Melody sobs silently, with a voice not emerging from her throat, but from her violin, plucking and stroking each string to show whatever deep depression is eating at her heart.

Melody is now in the very center of this circle the two swordsmen have formed, violently, as it seems, playing her violin without distraction, almost oblivious to the men who are at the same time oblivious to her; yet, their combined power is of pure musical genius; a deadly, circular presentation of battle and beauty, both musical and menacing. No soul breaking concentration now, as every bead of sweat on the snow seems worthless to their mysterious ambitions.

"Inhale, clang, exhale, clash, inhale, clang, exhale, clash," go the conflicting steel and dueling breaths. The swords, as well as the men are evenly matched. Melody's music only perpetuates this realization, as she begins to repeat one part of this song over and over again. On the fifth repeat, she breaks into a slow breakaway from the sadness; she plucks one string five more times, and slowly, opens her eyes.

The first man, once so eager and readied by the thought of battle, makes a fatal error, taking his mind now far, far away from the battle to stare into Melody's eyes... This is when he meets a shocking and cryptic truth; her captivating blue eyes stare back at him with love -- lost love, all too familiar to his stress-filled mind.

He expects her voice to pour into that very mind of his, but hears, for the first time, silence. Melody stands there, with no voice... only tears. And at that very moment, the man's mind shatters. The song he was entangled with was no ordinary one; what seems like an eternity ago, he shared a dance with his bride to that very song on a dock near a moonlit ocean; it was the last moment he'd ever share with her -- with Melody.

Her haunting face had caught him off guard mere minutes ago, but back before the heat of battle drove him, he saw that very face peek up from black and murky waters, drowned and breathless before he could save her. Melody, his one and only love, was dead; an accident on the dock had resulted in absolute tragedy. The memory of her death now eats away at him -- a pain so horrendous that he forgets all other pain. Unfortunately, one pain he forgets is that of his enemy's sword, now entwined with his body.

Lying in a pool of his own blood, yet oblivious to this fact, he remembers more... On the dock that they danced upon, there was a knife, hidden slightly beneath a floorboard. He slowly remembers picking up the knife, with his will to live gone, and... -- the memory is now interrupted; his enemy, now obvious to him as his very self, and not a twin, now shatters into thousands of glass shards... The enemy is gone, but the damage is done. The man is dying fast, crying out Melody's name, screaming for her... but she is nowhere to be found.

He snaps back to the realization of his physical pain now, and sees that the sword is gone; instead, there is a knife, covered in blood right beside him... and what's worse, his wrists are slashed, as well. There is no snow, no crescent moon, no violin; he is on a dock, unable to move, nor stop crying. The truth is clear and razor-sharp -- a suicide attempt to escape his pain of Melody dying. A month has passed since her death, and he cannot live on without her. But the question remains of whether he was successful or not in his attempt, and if so, what he had just experienced was.

But before he can finish that thought, like a bullet being fired from a gun, he is shot back into a snowy field... He stands up, brushes himself off and looks around; he feels a sword in its sheath behind him. With one slow breath, eyes closed, feet firmly planted upon the white ground, he reaches for his sword with his breath visible. He removes his pride and joy from its darkened sleeve and becomes entranced by the sound of the emerging metal. He has no recollection of his previous battles, nor does he know why he is here now. All he knows is that his enemy, hidden in the shadows is to blame for something that he cannot forgive... or at least that's what he thinks.

By blaming himself for Melody's death, and in return, taking his own life, this man must fight on against himself yet again. And Melody, to this day, still plays her violin for him; she only wishes to wake him from this perpetual battle, forged in his own guilt. It was not his fault that she died, but with no voice, she can never tell him that... Melody plays on for his lost soul, hoping that one day, she may be able to bring it into rest, and not into battle... Until that day, however, the man, his guilt and his long lost love will play the Duel of Melody, a hauntingly beautiful melody, and ferociously violent battle of grief, all for the sake of two souls being reunited once more.

[Kage Chaos]

The Dawn[/u]

I liked this story. The description was excellent, and I could tell that the writer had some decent preparation. Stories like this are somewhat inspiring, for lack of a better word, and I think it shows some sort of hope for people who have none. Also, I doubt this was intended, but I found a nifty message in the story. The woman, who has all these amazing abilities, still seemed to have some trouble completing her mission, but didn't give up. I like that.

Duel of Melody[/u]

This story was also well written, and had good description. I find it fitting, although a bit unusual, that it's written in present tense (he does this, she does that, it shatters). It's a story that seems to show how easy it is to get lost in one's emotions, which is quite true. I can see a few sides to this story, but I won't get into that.

Lastly, I'd just like to say "Good job," and I think the second story has potential to be longer and still maintain its quality. This is the first time in a while I've been able to critique someone else's stories. Good luck with your writing in the future.