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LinovaA

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This topic hasn't had a post in it in about a month and a half... let's fix that, shall we? I enjoy this part of the forum (though I haven't visited in a while, tbh) and I'm saddened to see it's been slowed to a grinding halt as suddenly as it did. Maybe I'll start working on a story or two I've had floating around in my head but never got around to actually starting and then hopefully I'll be able to put them here. It's the perfect excuse to stop procrastinating, at least. If I can actually finish them, that is. The one thing I absolutely hate is not being able to finish a story because I'm unable to think of more to put into it. Especially when I've got the ending planned out but can't get the chance to write it because I can't actually get to it. Or I have Point A and Point B, but nothing to put in between. Kind of like what happened to the story I'd posted here, and I'd just stopped being able to think of more. I cannot describe the frustration I feel when that happens. God, I hope I'm not the only one that this happens to... If anyone knows of a term to describe this phenomenon, I'll be eternally grateful. Well, that's the end of that rant. If it can even be called one, that is.

 

 

Well, that's interesting. I had planned to put more here, but the train of thought I had just sort of fizzed out before I wrote any of it down. I remember some of it, but not enough to have it correlate to any of what I'm writing now. Frustrating, but at the same time fascinating, as I've never had this happen before. Onto a different train of thought, then.

 

I try to update on the weekend, though I don't have a specific schedule for doing so.

 

Yes, Sena's family is wealthy.  Sena's father isn't around much.  Sena does indeed like shades of purple.  I expect you'll be seeing more of Mrs. Holmbrook very soon.  I don't intend to focus on her, but she has an important role in the course of events.  Her presence behind the scenes, beyond Brian and Clare's perception, is something I would like readers to think about.

 

May I ask why you haven't updated your story sanahtlig? It was something I've been looking forward to reading but it just stopped being updated for the last two months. If it's because of your work or something, though, I'd understand.

 

 

 

Edit: My God. Tiagofvarela, your signature is the single greatest thing I've seen in a while. Absolutely beautiful. How did you make that?

 

Edit 2: I... I cannot, for the life of me, understand why I constantly misspell Tiago's username... Why do I keep doing Valera? Interestingly enough I make the same mistake whenever I say it in my head, too. I almost never pick up on the fact I mess it up. No idea why. Either way, mistake fixed, but knowing me it's likely to happen again for God knows what reason. That's never happened before with any other username I've seen, and it's only ever happened to me once in a blue moon with, like, one or two words out of the entirety of the English Language... Seriously, what the Hell?

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May I ask why you haven't updated your story sanahtlig? It was something I've been looking forward to reading but it just stopped being updated for the last two months. If it's because of your work or something, though, I'd understand.

Sorry, yes I've been busy with other stuff.  Fiction writing takes a massive investment of time and creative energy (while I was updating it I literally did nothing else, including playing VNs or blogging).  I do intend to get back to the story eventually, but probably not until my dissertation is finished.

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Sorry, yes I've been busy with other stuff.  Fiction writing takes a massive investment of time and creative energy (while I was updating it I literally did nothing else, including playing VNs or blogging).  I do intend to get back to the story eventually, but probably not until my dissertation is finished.

No need to apologize, I was just wondering why the updating stopped for an extended period of time. I will agree with you that it takes quite a bit of time and energy. When might that dissertation of yours be finished? I recall you mentioning it in our previous conversation. Is it still the same one or a different one?

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Hm...maybe I could grab an old draft from high school and see what the response is like?

 

*Glances at old folders*

NOPE.  NOPE.  IT BURNS MY SOUL.

 

...I'm going to need to do this, now, aren't I?

 

 

Introducing, Zodai's first chapter.  If you need to bleach your eyes, please grab some in advance.

 

 

 

 

 

~FATE~

 

Introduction

 

 

             

           

 

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

March 17th, Year 1012 AC, Akande, Ikane

 

 

00:37

 

 

 

 

            The night was dark, as it had always been.  Most of the city had gone to sleep at least an hour ago, although a few select houses (Otherwise known as 10% of the city…) of rampant children, all-night gamers and people with way too much homework, had stayed lit, although there was an exception to this.

 

 

            The Yageni Museum, in the sector 7 of the capital city, Akande, near the Gakuna Sea, as always, kept the lights on after dark.  This would make it easier to spot any of the thieves who made an attempt to sneak in, as it was harder to camouflage in a shadowless building.  It also prevented a panic in the event of an emergency, as if the lights were kept on, anyone would notice if they were turned on in case of an emergency.  If the lights had been turned on during a break-in, the thief would be able to escape in the crowd of news reporters and civilians.  It would be a dead giveaway of a robbery.  Of course, this is all prevented because they keep the lights on at night.

 

            “Hey!  I think I saw him!”

 

            As the reporters would have already been here if they hadn’t.

 

            In that instant, a man had been seen dashing through the hallway.  A cloaked figure, his outfit was set to camouflage against nighttime shadows, not the peach-colored walls of the museum.  He was moving so fast no details of his clothing could be seen.

 

 

            A local source of minor legend among elementary schoolers, the source being sons and daughters of security guards(These days; a lot of the older ones were transferred to lower-priority guarding areas)he was symbolized by the mysterious mask he wore on his heists.  The man was kept a secret from most of the world, aside from the security guards of museums he stole from, due to the fact they would be too ashamed to see what they considered not only a “Mere Thief”, but a “Mere 17 year old” to have successfully stolen artifacts of high value, not even having so much as a whisper of realization of his first heist until it was completed.

 

   No mysterious coded letters signifying the heist, no showoff entrance of epic proportions that thousands of people line up to see.  No grand exit as he outwits thousands of guards at one time.

 

            Mostly, because he couldn’t afford to mess up.

 

And his name…

 

“Thief”

 

Of course, this was given to him by the community.  Since just about every other famous thief had a cool nickname, like, “Legendary mask”  he ended up with a simplistic name due to the fact that he was the only famous thief that didn’t act overly arrogant on every single heist.

 

 

            His target was, yet again, one of the things nobody expected anyone to steal.  Walking past the most expensive exhibit in the museum on his way, a rare mineral, Twyranite, rumored to have been used in alien spacecraft blueprints amongst the people of the city, instead opting to take a sheathed sword rumored to have been used by a legendary hero a millennium ago, putting it in the same timeline as the Cataclysm.

 

            Three security guards ran up to Thief in an attempt to capture him.  Guns were only permitted against those suspected of murder and, while they also had tranquilizer guns on them, it was common knowledge that Thief drank antidotes to them in advance, and last time he was able to use one against them.  There were more effective non-lethal ways of subduing him as well, but they had a chance to damage the exhibits.

 

            Thief had grabbed the sword and ran for the exit, already knowing the cyberlock had already locked it the instant the sword was removed from the pedestal.  He kicked off the transparent door, which was just as hard as the wall, flipping over and smacking a guard in the back of the head with the sheathe of the blade, then landing behind the guard, followed up by kicking the head of the second guard into the third. 

 

            He took a breather for a bit, and then was noticed by more guards.  As they chased toward him, he sidestepped to his right, narrowly dodging the charge.  As he into a nearby hallway, the guards, obviously, gave chase.

 

            Thief sidestepped onto a wall of the narrow hallway, then jumped to the opposite wall to gain momentum, running on the wall in order to get behind the guards.  This was actually quite easy at this time, as shoemakers had figured out how to design the bottom for maximum friction, although it was only possible for 30 seconds at the best friction quality, and that’s assuming you’re running fast enough.

 

            Thief landed behind the guard on the back of the line, and kicked him into the two that were either in front of him or behind him; he wasn’t sure if the guards had turned around to react or not.  He then pressed a concealed button, opening a door on the floor leading to a storage closet.  Of course, all the buildings these days with any danger of someone falling, had an anti-gravity machine that activated whenever something falling from above was detected.  This also activated a change in the floor mechanisms, making the floor material more like that of a trampoline. Of course, this does not affect the exhibits, but the sliding storage panels above exhibit rooms were carefully placed not to be above the exhibits.

 

            Thief ran up to the elevator, knowing the guards still in the security room would be able to see the action.  Of course, the guards acted immediately.

 

As the empty elevator opened up on the 23rd floor, Thief had ran up the walls onto the elevator door for the rooftop.  He kicked open the elevator doors; they were made of an easily kickable material these days in case of an emergency, and made his way onto the rooftop.  He used a security card he had gotten from a guard earlier, in order to shut down the plasma wall currently surrounding the building.

 

            Thief had then pulled out a metal rod, and attached some form of a magnet to one end of it.  As he jumped off the building, the side of the rod with the magnet on it stuck to the wall as he slid down, slowing his descent to a point where he would be able to land easily.  He threw away the magnetic rod, and before he gained much more momentum, used a magnet of the same polarity as the wall in order to propel himself toward a nearby pier, landing with minor injuries.

 

 

            Thief ran over to a nearby pseudo-alleyway, enclosed with blocks upon blocks of cargo.  He took off his mask, his black hair now visible, and pulled out a small communication device.

 

            “Hey, what took you so long?  LM already got to the base!  I’ve been waiting for you for the past hour, you know!”  The man at the other end of the phone said.

 

“Heh.  You know that LM prefers to do his heists in broad daylight, you know.”

 

Thief wasn’t sure if he was referring to Legendary mask or Lark Maverick, so he just said something relating to both of the overly-arrogant thieves.  He decided to sit down, the red-hilted blade still in hand.

 

“You think the decoder division will be able to crack the cyberlock?  The museum probably knew its lethality when used as a weapon.”

 

“Well, we had a specific crew just for dealing with these Cyberlocks.  Just how you were a thief specifically for stuff relating to Operation Skybreak.  At least, you are this time.  Rumor has it you’ve jumped around a bunch of organization relating to the national government.  Isn’t that right, Ikaru?” 

 

Ikaru merely kept quiet relating to the question.

 

“Meh, I can tell if you’re a bit tired, I’ll just say it for you.  Ikaru Yatsuna Madume.  Previous experience…”  There was a short pause in the middle of his sentence.

 

“…Anyway, should I come get you so we can get back to headquarters?”

 

“Yeah.  I’m in between some cargo crates in the pier.  Come get me soon, Kature.”

 

“Right, I’ll head over there.”

 

Ikaru sat down in silence.  He deliberately didn’t tell his friend which Pier it was, he wanted some time to think.

 

“Heh.  Tommorow’s the day, right?  The day Operation Skybreak finally break out of preparation and gathering.  The day his plans all get started.

 

And…”  Ikaru paused for a moment, then exhaled.

 

“…The day I get my first glimpse into the truth of that day.”

 

About 15 minutes later, his phone rang again.  Kature Hatenki was on the Caller ID.

 

 

After that, since your mind and soul are most likely tainted beyond recognition, here's something a little more recent that I'm currently working on.

 

     “Now, then.  What will you do?”

      The bullet breaks through the window at my back.  Shards of shattered glass crumble to the floor at my feet.  A girl, about twenty years old.  Golden eyes.  Soft brown hair.  A pretty dress.  Her suffocating gaze pierces into my soul.  I’m scared.  I want to go home.  I can’t move.  I’m scared.  My body shivers like it wants to split into pieces.  The pounding rain smashes into the walls from the outside, seeping in through the broken window.  I want to go home.

     “Question one.  Why are you here?”

     The thick air squeezes at my throat, my empty lungs desperate for breath.  The sky glows a sparkling red, like the color of blood.  My voice locks itself inside my heart, and only failed attempts at breath escape my mouth.  I don’t know why I’m here.  I don’t want to be here.  I want to go home.  I can’t move.  The blaring thunder slashes at my eardrums.  I want to go home!

     The second gunshot rings through the air.  I scream, it hurts.  The blood pours out of my leg, like a stinging pain that won’t go away.  The bone inside cracks and shatters across the length.

     “Question two.  What do you want?”

     I want to go home.  I don’t want to be here anymore.  How long have I been here?  I don’t know.  I don’t know anymore.  My hands are trembling.  My chest feels like it’s going to burst.  I’m scared.  Terror and dread envelop my body, threatening to crush me into a mangled corpse.  Like a pair of thorned vines, strangling me by the neck.

     “Question three!  Who the hell are you!?”

     Her expression tears my soul in two.  A suffocating scream escapes my mouth.  Blood spurts out from my chest, like my heart is being ripped out.  The echoing gunshot blasts through my ears alongside the pounding thunder.  Why does it hurt so much?

     “Question three, once again.  Your name.  Now.

     She points the gun to my head.  I don’t know, I don’t know.  Tears run down my face.  I’m scared.  Why am I here?  I don’t want to be here.  Where am I?  The blood falls to the floor like droplets of rain.  The frozen air scratches at my body like a thousand rotting fangs.

     Her eyes scream into my mind, paralyzing my soul as she pulls the trigger.

 

 

     Ah, look.

     She’s crying.

 

For bonus points, try to figure out the age and gender of the protagonist.

 

 

Enjoy!

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@Zodai

Female, 20?

Ehh, my current work's turning out badly so I want to re-work it from the ground up. I don't really take pride in my skills either.

Here's a work of mine anyway.

The Unknown Man's Unknown Story

The Dandelion Girl

It burns. This place burns. The sound of nothing rings throughout. Not even the sound of a flame crackling, or the sound of one breathing. Why is it then that this place burns? Ah yes, it must be…

Because this place is cold.

Ah, it’s so cold. So cold I don’t even feel it. I try to move my arms to hold myself. But alas, they’re impeded by a force I cannot see or feel.

A sound. A sound I heard like a deaf man hearing. I am surprised, but realized the logic in the matter.

It was my throat; my throat gasping for air. Out of fear? Out of the cold? Out of a lack of air? I myself don’t know.

I look down towards the space in front of my mouth. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my arms. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my legs. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my waist. There is nothing.

Why is it then that I cannot move? Is there anyone here? There is no one here.

In the midst of an unknown world, there is only my motionless body.

Naturally, if it is unknown, then no one could find it in the first place. This is a hopeless case.

And yet, as if god tantalizes me, I hope.

And yet, as if god tantalizes me, I heard a sound.

But that is something that cannot be. It cannot be.

And yet, it is. It is a sound; crisp and clear. It is a sound; blunt and sudden. I looked in the direction of the sound. I saw a rabbit. It gave off a dazzling light. A radiance brighter than a sky on a shining night. A radiance any man would’ve been blessed to see. The rabbit left behind a trail of grass and flowers. Eventually, it disappeared into the infinite darkness; its radiance no more; its grass and flowers no more.

“Wait.” Another sound; crisp and clear. Another sound; soft and long. A sound which came from me. A sound reminding me of my loneliness; my sadness; and my hope, my soul-crushing hope for a deer.

And as if the rabbit was my only light.

My world faded to black.

It burns. This place burns. The sound of nothing rings throughout. Not even the sound of a flame crackling, or the sound of one breathing. Why is it then that this place burns? Ah yes, it must be…

Because this place is cold.

Ah, it’s so cold. So cold I don’t even feel it. I try to move my arms to hold myself. But alas, they’re impeded by a force I cannot see or feel.

My throat. My throat gasps for air. Out of fear? Out of the cold? Out of a lack of air? I myself do not know.

I look down towards the space in front of my mouth. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my arms. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my legs. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my waist. There is nothing.

Why is it then that I cannot move? Is there anyone here? There is no one here.

In the midst of an unknown world, there is only my motionless body.

As if god is tantalizing me, I hope.

As if god is tantalizing me, I heard a sound.

But that is something that cannot be. It cannot be.

Ah but yesterday, a rabbit came. Therefore, this sound could be.

And yes, this sound is – a sound, crisp and clear; a sound, blunt and sudden. I looked in the direction of the sound. I saw a deer. It gave off a dazzling light. A radiance brighter than a sky on a shining night. A radiance I have already been blessed to see. The deer left behind a trail of grass and flowers. It is disappearing into the infinite darkness; its radiance disappearing; its grass and flowers disappearing.

And, as if my fulfilled hope is moving me…

As if my desperation is pushing me…

… I ran towards the darkness the deer was disappearing to.

If someone likes it I don't mind posting the rest.

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@Zodai

Female, 20?

Ehh, my current work's turning out badly so I want to re-work it from the ground up. I don't really take pride in my skills either.

Here's a work of mine anyway.

The Unknown Man's Unknown Story

The Dandelion Girl

It burns. This place burns. The sound of nothing rings throughout. Not even the sound of a flame crackling, or the sound of one breathing. Why is it then that this place burns? Ah yes, it must be…

Because this place is cold.

Ah, it’s so cold. So cold I don’t even feel it. I try to move my arms to hold myself. But alas, they’re impeded by a force I cannot see or feel.

A sound. A sound I heard like a deaf man hearing. I am surprised, but realized the logic in the matter.

It was my throat; my throat gasping for air. Out of fear? Out of the cold? Out of a lack of air? I myself don’t know.

I look down towards the space in front of my mouth. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my arms. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my legs. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my waist. There is nothing.

Why is it then that I cannot move? Is there anyone here? There is no one here.

In the midst of an unknown world, there is only my motionless body.

Naturally, if it is unknown, then no one could find it in the first place. This is a hopeless case.

And yet, as if god tantalizes me, I hope.

And yet, as if god tantalizes me, I heard a sound.

But that is something that cannot be. It cannot be.

And yet, it is. It is a sound; crisp and clear. It is a sound; blunt and sudden. I looked in the direction of the sound. I saw a rabbit. It gave off a dazzling light. A radiance brighter than a sky on a shining night. A radiance any man would’ve been blessed to see. The rabbit left behind a trail of grass and flowers. Eventually, it disappeared into the infinite darkness; its radiance no more; its grass and flowers no more.

“Wait.” Another sound; crisp and clear. Another sound; soft and long. A sound which came from me. A sound reminding me of my loneliness; my sadness; and my hope, my soul-crushing hope for a deer.

And as if the rabbit was my only light.

My world faded to black.

It burns. This place burns. The sound of nothing rings throughout. Not even the sound of a flame crackling, or the sound of one breathing. Why is it then that this place burns? Ah yes, it must be…

Because this place is cold.

Ah, it’s so cold. So cold I don’t even feel it. I try to move my arms to hold myself. But alas, they’re impeded by a force I cannot see or feel.

My throat. My throat gasps for air. Out of fear? Out of the cold? Out of a lack of air? I myself do not know.

I look down towards the space in front of my mouth. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my arms. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my legs. There is nothing.

I look down towards the space around my waist. There is nothing.

Why is it then that I cannot move? Is there anyone here? There is no one here.

In the midst of an unknown world, there is only my motionless body.

As if god is tantalizing me, I hope.

As if god is tantalizing me, I heard a sound.

But that is something that cannot be. It cannot be.

Ah but yesterday, a rabbit came. Therefore, this sound could be.

And yes, this sound is – a sound, crisp and clear; a sound, blunt and sudden. I looked in the direction of the sound. I saw a deer. It gave off a dazzling light. A radiance brighter than a sky on a shining night. A radiance I have already been blessed to see. The deer left behind a trail of grass and flowers. It is disappearing into the infinite darkness; its radiance disappearing; its grass and flowers disappearing.

And, as if my fulfilled hope is moving me…

As if my desperation is pushing me…

… I ran towards the darkness the deer was disappearing to.

If someone likes it I don't mind posting the rest.

I'd like to see the rest.

 

And on a side note: For some reason, as I was reading, I read it in such a way that I got the impression he'd seen the deer the day before he saw the rabbit, and when I saw the part where he'd seen the deer the next day, I began thinking that he was in a situation where whatever was going on kept repeating itself. That is both terrifying and fascinating to me.

 

Okay, I just re-read it, and now I'm curious as to why he'd been hoping for a deer specifically. So does that mean he'd actually seen one the day before or was it just a hope of some kind? This story has piqued my interest quite a bit. Can't wait to see the rest.

 

 

Also, I'm glad my post yesterday has gotten this topic moving again.

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Edit: My God. Tiagofvalera, your signature is the single greatest thing I've seen in a while. Absolutely beautiful. How did you make that?

The only way I know how: I didn't. I got someone else to do it.

 

As for me, no writing as of late (actually, lots of writing but it's all been PM'ing people and brainstorming on the forums.)

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I'd like to see the rest.

 

And on a side note: For some reason, as I was reading, I read it in such a way that I got the impression he'd seen the deer the day before he saw the rabbit, and when I saw the part where he'd seen the deer the next day, I began thinking that he was in a situation where whatever was going on kept repeating itself. That is both terrifying and fascinating to me.

 

Okay, I just re-read it, and now I'm curious as to why he'd been hoping for a deer specifically. So does that mean he'd actually seen one the day before or was it just a hope of some kind? This story has piqued my interest quite a bit. Can't wait to see the rest.

 

 

Also, I'm glad my post yesterday has gotten this topic moving again.

Thanks. I have yet to edit this, which I should get around to. Buuuut, you can still have the rest. However, I admittedly have no idea how to use google docs so forgive me for this.

Down The Rabbit Hole

Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling through a hole in the world. A hole in the world that leads to a brighter place. On the other side, there is a dazzling light. This is – yes, the same radiance of the rabbit, and the deer. That same radiance I have been blessed to see. That same radiance which gives me hope. Hope for light? Hope for warmth? Hope for company? I no longer know myself.

Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling fast like a meteor crash. A meteor crash that tries to impact the world. The world is determined by the facts, and by their being all the facts. Is the place below then a fact, or a thing? A fact; a thing that is indisputably the case. A thing; an object that one need not, cannot, or does not wish to give a specific name to. This is a funny act.

Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling along with several things. A cat with a wide grin. A plant with a body. A sculpture based on a woman. Several books with their pages fluttering. Were they all in the unknown world? Certainly not. And yet, they fall down with me. They seem rather calm about this. Have they gone down here before? Certainly not. And yet, their faces are still.

Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling down towards the ground. The radiance is growing subdued as I get closer. The radiance is becoming more than just a light. The radiance slowly turns green. The radiance slowly turns sharp. The radiance slowly comes closer, and…

*THUD*

I land head first on it.

I open my eyes. Three faces: a grinning cat; a worried plant; and a sculpture. The grinning cat speaks to me, “Why didn’t you land on your feet or your bottom? Doing so would’ve surely avoided your perturbing blossom.” His voice is a tad high in pitch, with a hint of mischief. Like a kid. Like one just before growing.

The sculpture rebuts, “At least be kind and support him. No need to ridicule. Did he do something to make you mad?” Stern, with a deep voice. There is a certain gentleness to it though. Like a mother. Like one scolding her child.

The cat says, “Oh no, my dear. After all, we’re all mad down here.” His constant smile – no, his grin would’ve looked kind at times, but now it is simply provocative.

The sculpture sighs, “Do you really always speak in rhymes? Isn’t it tiring and pointless?” And like a mother; her scolds are not condescending. Rather, she is trying to be understanding.

“Well then, why do you speak in such a mundane manner? Surely that would make everything a boring chatter.”

The sculpture opens her mouth, but the plant outstretches her arms and palms in front of the bickering couple, and then points her finger at me.

I opened my mouth and an awkward sound came out. “Ah, I’m fine. No need to worry,” I say as I got up. The two women’s faces analytically gaze at mine, whilst assuring my safety. The cat had acted as if he knew I would be, so it seems his gaze is simply that of attention. “Where are we?” I ask.

“I do not know,” says the cat.

“Then how could you say, ‘We’re all mad down here,’?” the sculpture inquires.

“When one asks ‘Where are we?’ they ask for a name. This place has none, but I’ve been here all the same.”

Whilst nodding, I say. “Hmm, true. What about you two, have you been here?”

“Yes,” the two women say. The sculpture followed by the plant. The plant’s voice is soft and high-pitched. Like that of a young girl. Like a little sister.

“I see.” I looked around at my surroundings. A colorful city. A colorful sky. This is… yes, a colorful world. What was once a simple radiant light had changed into a simple island by the shore. The ocean, bright with the reflection of the sun. The sun, giving the sky its beloved blue and pink color. The two collided to create one image; an image of this world.

Mad Tea Party

The city is paved with buildings too fantastical to be called as such. They looked like gingerbread houses painted with rainbows. Alongside them are pots. Pots for flowers. The flowers in them are white. Like a cloud. At its center is a golden yellow. Like the sun. If one went inside a building, they’d find it too small to be accommodating. And yet, no one complained. And yet, that made it all the more pleasing for our group.

“My my, what a cute building,” the sculpture says.

“Indeed, this place looks perfect for me,” the cat says.

“True. Perfect in size for you,” I attempt to tease him.

“Of course, I am quite snuggly like this house. I can’t wait to see if I’ll find a mouse.” My attempt failed. I wonder if he even noticed it. But I didn’t mind. I simply gave a small chuckle and smile.

The plant is silent throughout, but her smile is constant. Unlike that cat’s, it is sincere. I ask her, “Do you like the idea in staying in a small place like this?” She nods; with her face bright.

“This place – the island I mean – is quite beautiful. I think I’ll admire it a little longer.” I say that as I try to go out. The plant holds on to my sleeve. However, it doesn’t say anything. However, it opens its mouth.

“Right after falling from that height, shouldn’t you rest? It would also be nice to take note of the place you’re staying in. We’ll prepare tea. Come on, sit down here.” A voice. Not soft, but rather deep and kind. The plant nods repeatedly in agreement. A dull pain hits my head. It wasn’t sudden. Rather, it was a slow one. I grasp it with my hand while returning to the table. It seems that although my heart wants an adventure, my brain does not. The table is reminiscent of ones kids go on and scatter their toys on, while the chairs are stools. I sit down. With my face a flustered red.

The cat is sitting across me. He asks me, “What could possibly the matter? Surely you weren’t offended by some mad hatter.”

“This chair is small. I feel like a kid. A little boy.” I speak as my face gets even redder. I want to hide it.

“And what is wrong with acting young? To be concerned with age is quite cumbersome. ‘Age is just a number’ is what they say. When all men simply want to justify play.” My face returns to its normal color upon hearing these words. I let out a sigh. On my face is a small pout, though lacking in energy.

The two women return with the tea. The smell is sweet and airy. Its fragrance could be called… floral. Its taste is the same.

“I like it. It’s really calming.” I say with a smile.

“That’s good. Has your headache subsided?” The sculpture says while taking a sip. I never told her about my headache though. She’s quite observant. Like a mother worried for her child.

“Yes, thank you.” I am thrown off by the fact a sculpture is consuming liquids, but I put the thought at the back of my head. I look at the rest of the group. The plant is hesitating to touch it, probably because of its heat. The cat is on the table, licking the tea. Rude as it might be, I left him alone. After all, he would definitely make a comeback. After all, his comebacks are ones of a wise old man. After all, whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

Echo and Narcissus

Outside, the sun is bright. The brightness is refreshing. When it reaches my skin it feels like it’s flowing in; invigorating my body. As I stretch my body, the plant joins me. She barely speaks. The city is paved with buildings too fantastical to be called as such. They looked like gingerbread houses painted with rainbows. Alongside them are pots. Pots for flowers. The flowers in them are white. Like a cloud. At its center is a golden yellow. Like the sun. Like the sun, they are shining and invigorating. Like us, they are invigorated by the sun.

“Do you like plants?” The plant nods. Quiet, almost creepily so. She never talks, and when she tries to someone always says something for her. Fortunately, her sincere smile balances it out. It’s so easy to feel comfortable with her.

“Do you like plants?” A voice. An unfamiliar one. I look at the plant and see her expectant face. “So she actually said something,” I think.

“Yes, they’re pleasing to look at.” My voice came out a tad flustered. Probably because we’re actually holding a conversation. “What do you think of these flowers? Aren’t they pretty?” She nods; with her face sweet. “Do you know what they’re called?” She nods again. “What are they?” Her face turns distressed immediately. Her mouth opens and she mouths something, but I don’t understand it. It appears she can tell, so she decides to use her hands to spell it.

“N-A-R-C-I-S-S-U-S”

“Narcissus? Did I pronounce it right?” She nods; with her face bright. I move closer to the pots. I examine the Narcissus. “They’re really beautiful.” The plant comes close as well. She tries to touch them, but decides not to. I go off to the island’s shore.

“Do you want to come with me?” I ask the plant. She doesn’t do anything, but gaze at the flowers. As if mesmerized. As if in love.

Pygmalion

Walking. Walking. Walking. Walking under the bright sunlight. The sunlight lights the path I should take. A path filled with overgrown plants, trees, and berries. A path to my destination; the shore. For what reason do I go there? For entertainment? For relaxation? For a trip? Perhaps all three are my reasons.

Walking. Walking. Walking. Walking to the shore. The shore where the ocean and sky collide. They collide to create that beautiful image. That vast yet symmetrical image. The image of this world.

Walking. Walking. Walking. Walking just past the sculpture. The motherly sculpture who takes care of us all. What is she doing here? “Good morning. How are you?” I call out to the sculpture.

“Oh, hello there. I’m fine, thank you. What are you up to?”

“I’m just on a walk. Going to the shore. What about you?”

“I’m gathering all sorts of things for food. Berries, herbs, veggies and the like.”

“For all of us? You didn’t have to. We could’ve helped. Would you let me do so now?”

“It’s quite all right. Nothing much for me to do anyways. You don’t need to.”

“It’s fine, I tell you.” I hold her basket for her. My hand came into contact with hers. I never really thought about it, but she really is a sculpture. Sculpture is just a sort of title for her, but now I see that she is one through and through. After all, her hand was cold. Her hand was lifeless.

“If you insist. I guess I’ll let you.”

“Okay, just tell me what you need.”

Walking. Walking. Walking. Walking down the path leading to the shore. However, I’m not going to the shore. My destination is right here. Looking for food.

“Oh could you get that. It’s ripe and really delicious.”

“Sure.”

“Nice. This is quite the rare fruit, so we’re lucky to find it.”

“Is that so? Nice to hear.” The fruit had a nice smell. Sweet and floral, just like the tea we had. “Did you use this for our tea?”

“Yes, there was only one left in the kitchen.”

“Ah, we really are lucky then.” I won’t lie; I could live on that tea if I could. It was really good.

“Oh, what is this?” The sculpture sounded surprised. I followed the direction of her eyes.

“A narcissus flower. You didn’t know. The plant likes them a lot.”

“I know, but I don’t think I saw them this far in. That’s weird.”

“Are you sure of that? Perhaps you never noticed ‘till now.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

Here we are, picking fruit. The basket I’m holding is nearly filled. Just a few batches, and then we’ll be done. I’m getting tired, so I try to distract myself while I’m on a tree. “Excuse me, are you a mother?” I asked the sculpture.

“No, why do you ask?”

“You act like one. You’re always trying to take care of us and reminding us for our behavior.”

She chuckles, “Well, I’m not a mother, but I am married.”

“I see. Your husband is fortunate to have someone to always care for him.”

“That’s not really true.” Her tone was downcast.

Worried, I jump down and ask her, “Is there something wrong?”

“Ah, no. I mean, I wouldn’t be here if I always cared for him.”

“I suppose that’s true. But don’t get down over it. You need some time on your own, right?”

She chuckles again. “I don’t think you quite understand, but thank you. It’s fine.” Her tone was back to its calm, stern and motherly nature. “Now you better get back to work! If you offer to help me, then do it all the way.”

I laugh, “Yes, mam!”

“Thank you again for your help. I wouldn’t have been able to fill the basket without it.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be on my way to the shore.” As I said that, the sculpture started walking back. I never really noticed until now but… But she moves rather awkwardly. As if she’s stiff. As if she’s burdened.

Cheshire Cat

The sun is bright. The brightness is refreshing. When it reaches my skin it feels like it’s flowing in; invigorating my body. Despite being under the sun for a long time, I don’t feel tired. I stretch my body. The smell of salt water reaches my nose. I let out a moan. This feels comfortable and nice. I looked around at my surroundings. A colorful city. A colorful sky. This is… yes, a colorful world. What was once a simple radiant light had changed into a simple island by the shore. The ocean, bright with the reflection of the sun. The sun, giving the sky its beloved blue and pink color. The two collided to create one image; an image of this world.

“Hello there! Are you enjoying this place? For if you aren’t, then we’ll fix up your taste.” A voice. A familiar voice. A mischievous, high-pitched voice. The cat’s voice.

No one likes having offended another person; hence everyone feels so much better if the other person doesn't show he's been offended. So let’s try this, “That hurts. What exactly do you think of me, so as to talk offendingly?”

“My attitude towards you is an attitude towards a soul. I am not of the opinion that you have a soul.” I laughed. My attempt failed. He really is a wise man. His provocative grin plastered on his face simply made him seem childish though. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? A fool simply dawdling without as much as a shield.”

“Are you one to talk? You’re naked!”

“A true wise man is fine with his words. A fool cannot even defend from a turd.”

We laughed. Over here, if the sculpture is my mother; and the plant my little sister, then the cat is my best friend. We did not do anything but talk the day away. “Oh really then, how is it that you’re wise? You must enlighten this fool who begs for your wisdom.”

“Life experience is necessary. I philosophize daily.”

“Ah, truly the sign of pretentiousness.”

“A fool you are, no wonder. To you, ‘What is life?’ has no answer.

“My philosophy is good enough,” I say that as I walk to the shoreline. Barefoot, with the waves hitting my feet over and over. The cat follows me and is at my side. “Are you okay on the water?”

“Yes, I am. Simply because I am a cat doesn’t mean I hate water.” That’s the first. The first time he did not speak in rhyme.

“Hey, you don’t have to give a name, but do you know where we are?”

“If you mean coordinates, then no either. I have been here, that’s all.”

“Okay, how did you get here?”

“I fell into a hole. Nothing special.”

“How do we see that hole?”

“I don’t really know, honestly. I don’t know anything about this place.”

“Ah, I see. Sorry.” I wonder what’s wrong. His rhymes have stopped.

“The mystical is not how the world is, but that it is.”

“Huh?”

“See, you are a fool. That concept is as known and helpful as tools.”

We chuckle. For some reason, it lacked our usual vigor and humor. “Shall we head back?” I ask.

“Let’s go.” For some reason, when his words don’t rhyme, he sounds bored and unhappy. As if there’s nothing important to note. As if he knows all.

When The Seagulls Cry

“Ah, please wait.” I request.

“Sure.” I saw something at the corner of my eye. It was on the shore. The vast shoreline. In it, one sparkle. It is shining. It is a message in a bottle. I go to it and pick it up.

“Trying to contact someone across the seven seas? How romantic.” I say aloud. Curious, I opened the bottle and took the letter. The letter was simply a page of a notebook. I’m slightly disappointed. It smells slightly burnt, and a bit like salt. I unroll the letter. There is only one line on it. One line, yes. And yet, I had a hunch… no – a conviction. And so I start running. Because of one line, I start running. The cat follows after me.

“Hey, what’s the matter!?” His screams reach me, but I don’t waste my breath trying to explain. Instead, I try to recall Lord Vidocq’s theory and run. Running, while making sounds like that of consecutive 8th notes on allegro. I can’t stop. That’s what my conviction told me. On the path that leads me back to the city, I’m running.

Running. Running. Running. Running under the bright sunlight. The sunlight lights the path I should take. A path filled with overgrown plants, trees, and berries. A path to my destination; the city. For what reason do I go there? For my safety? For the two women? For the cat? All three are my reasons.

Running. Running. Running. Running to the city. The city where the narcissus grow. The narcissus that make the plant so happy. That sweet, kind, and quiet plant.

Running. Running. Running. Running just past the sculpture. The motherly sculpture who takes care of us all. What is she doing here? “What are you doing here?!” I call out to the sculpture. She doesn’t reply. Why, why, why is she still here? She’s still holding her basket. The basket filled to the brim with all sorts of plants.

“Ah, ah, I’m so sad.” The sculpture finally replied.

“What are you talking about? Are you okay? We better run!”

“Ah, it’s okay. I don’t need to go.”

“Why? We need you! Please, come with us!”

“I don’t want to. It seems that I… didn’t care enough.” Her tone was choked. She had difficulty speaking. Not for physical reasons, but for emotional.

“You cared for us. It’s okay. I swear.” But it was too late. She stopped moving entirely. Frozen, like a real sculpture. “Ahh, no. No, no, no. Why? For us, you were like a mother!” A crack. Straight across the face. A crack. Straight across the hands. A basket fell on the ground. A crack. Straight across the torso. The three cracks connected and… she shattered.

“Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?”

“Get over it, even if she was dear. In the end, we’re all mad down here!” I’m brought back to my senses. He is right. We’re all mad down here. That’s why… I run even more. I try to recall Lord Vidocq’s theory and run. Running, while making sounds like that of consecutive 16th notes on allegro. I can’t stop. That’s what my conviction told me. On the path that leads me back to the city, I’m running.

Running. Running. Running. Running under the heavy rain. The rain floods the path I should take. A path filled with water, grass and bugs. A path to my destination; the city. For what reason do I go there? For my safety? For the plant? For the cat? All three are my reasons.

Running. Running. Running. Running to the city. The city where the narcissus grow. The narcissus that make the plant so happy. That sweet, kind, and quiet plant.

Running. Running. Running. Running just past a burning field. A burning field of narcissus. Why? Why? The narcissus she loved so much. Why? In the center of the field, the plant was there. What is she doing here? “What are you doing here?!” I call out to the plant. She doesn’t reply. Why, why, why is she still here? She’s lying down on the ground. I run to her.

“The– re… -tiful.” She finally replied.

“What is it? Speak to me! Ah, if you can’t, I’ll try to understand. Please. Please. Please.”

“They’re real… -utiful.”

“What is it?” My voice is cracking. My throat hurts, and I’m continuously gasping for air. Please. Plant. Don’t go.

“They’re really beautiful.”

“Ehh?” Dumbfounded, I don’t know what else to say.

“They’re really beautiful.”

“They’re really beautiful.”

“They’re really beautiful.”

“They’re really beautiful.”

“They’re really beautiful.”

She keeps saying that for some reason. I simply stare at her. Dumbfounded. Perhaps it’s my realization. A tug on my sleeve. With teeth. I’m snapped back into reality. I run out of the flaming field, along with the cat. He doesn’t even need to tell me what to do. We’re all mad down here. That’s why… I run even more. I try to recall Lord Vidocq’s theory and run. Running, while making sounds like that of consecutive 32nd notes on allegro. I can’t stop. That’s what my conviction told me. On the path that leads me back to the city, I’m running.

Running. Running. Running. Running on a burnt wasteland. The heat burns the path I should take. A path filled with dead grass and dead bugs. A path to my destination; the city. For what reason do I go there? For my safety? For the cat? For the sake of running? I don’t even know anymore.

Running. Running. Running. Running to the city. The city where the narcissus grow. The narcissus that made the plant so happy. That sweet, kind, and quiet plant.

Running. Running. Running. Running just past an empty city. The city is paved with buildings too fantastical to be called as such. They looked like gingerbread houses painted with rainbows. Alongside them are pots. Pots for flowers. The flowers are… gone. Gone… Why? I fall on my knees. The cat goes up to me. Then, I remember. “You have to run.”

“Hahahahaha, is this not comical!? Is this not comical!?” For some reason, when he said this he was crying. And yet, his provocative grin was still plastered on his face.

“Just run! Please! You have to for when –.”

Time stops. My words. The cat’s laughter. The sound of a flame crackling. The sound of someone breathing. All of it. The only things that transcended them are cries.

––– For when the seagulls cry;

–––None will be left alive.

Well, if there's another reason I don't want to use google docs, it's because I really want to edit the ending, which isn't present here.

Also, in response to your side note:

Have you heard of this quote?

"Day before yesterday, I saw a rabbit. Yesterday, a deer. And today, you."

It went something like that anyway. It's from The Dandelion Girl, hence the chapter title.

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Thanks. I have yet to edit this, which I should get around to. Buuuut, you can still have the rest. However, I admittedly have no idea how to use google docs so forgive me for this.

Down The Rabbit Hole

Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling through a hole in the world. A hole in the world that leads to a brighter place. On the other side, there is a dazzling light. This is – yes, the same radiance of the rabbit, and the deer. That same radiance I have been blessed to see. That same radiance which gives me hope. Hope for light? Hope for warmth? Hope for company? I no longer know myself.

Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling fast like a meteor crash. A meteor crash that tries to impact the world. The world is determined by the facts, and by their being all the facts. Is the place below then a fact, or a thing? A fact; a thing that is indisputably the case. A thing; an object that one need not, cannot, or does not wish to give a specific name to. This is a funny act.

Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling along with several things. A cat with a wide grin. A plant with a body. A sculpture based on a woman. Several books with their pages fluttering. Were they all in the unknown world? Certainly not. And yet, they fall down with me. They seem rather calm about this. Have they gone down here before? Certainly not. And yet, their faces are still.

Falling. Falling. Falling. Falling down towards the ground. The radiance is growing subdued as I get closer. The radiance is becoming more than just a light. The radiance slowly turns green. The radiance slowly turns sharp. The radiance slowly comes closer, and…

*THUD*

I land head first on it.

I open my eyes. Three faces: a grinning cat; a worried plant; and a sculpture. The grinning cat speaks to me, “Why didn’t you land on your feet or your bottom? Doing so would’ve surely avoided your perturbing blossom.” His voice is a tad high in pitch, with a hint of mischief. Like a kid. Like one just before growing.

The sculpture rebuts, “At least be kind and support him. No need to ridicule. Did he do something to make you mad?” Stern, with a deep voice. There is a certain gentleness to it though. Like a mother. Like one scolding her child.

The cat says, “Oh no, my dear. After all, we’re all mad down here.” His constant smile – no, his grin would’ve looked kind at times, but now it is simply provocative.

The sculpture sighs, “Do you really always speak in rhymes? Isn’t it tiring and pointless?” And like a mother; her scolds are not condescending. Rather, she is trying to be understanding.

“Well then, why do you speak in such a mundane manner? Surely that would make everything a boring chatter.”

The sculpture opens her mouth, but the plant outstretches her arms and palms in front of the bickering couple, and then points her finger at me.

I opened my mouth and an awkward sound came out. “Ah, I’m fine. No need to worry,” I say as I got up. The two women’s faces analytically gaze at mine, whilst assuring my safety. The cat had acted as if he knew I would be, so it seems his gaze is simply that of attention. “Where are we?” I ask.

“I do not know,” says the cat.

“Then how could you say, ‘We’re all mad down here,’?” the sculpture inquires.

“When one asks ‘Where are we?’ they ask for a name. This place has none, but I’ve been here all the same.”

Whilst nodding, I say. “Hmm, true. What about you two, have you been here?”

“Yes,” the two women say. The sculpture followed by the plant. The plant’s voice is soft and high-pitched. Like that of a young girl. Like a little sister.

“I see.” I looked around at my surroundings. A colorful city. A colorful sky. This is… yes, a colorful world. What was once a simple radiant light had changed into a simple island by the shore. The ocean, bright with the reflection of the sun. The sun, giving the sky its beloved blue and pink color. The two collided to create one image; an image of this world.

Mad Tea Party

The city is paved with buildings too fantastical to be called as such. They looked like gingerbread houses painted with rainbows. Alongside them are pots. Pots for flowers. The flowers in them are white. Like a cloud. At its center is a golden yellow. Like the sun. If one went inside a building, they’d find it too small to be accommodating. And yet, no one complained. And yet, that made it all the more pleasing for our group.

“My my, what a cute building,” the sculpture says.

“Indeed, this place looks perfect for me,” the cat says.

“True. Perfect in size for you,” I attempt to tease him.

“Of course, I am quite snuggly like this house. I can’t wait to see if I’ll find a mouse.” My attempt failed. I wonder if he even noticed it. But I didn’t mind. I simply gave a small chuckle and smile.

The plant is silent throughout, but her smile is constant. Unlike that cat’s, it is sincere. I ask her, “Do you like the idea in staying in a small place like this?” She nods; with her face bright.

“This place – the island I mean – is quite beautiful. I think I’ll admire it a little longer.” I say that as I try to go out. The plant holds on to my sleeve. However, it doesn’t say anything. However, it opens its mouth.

“Right after falling from that height, shouldn’t you rest? It would also be nice to take note of the place you’re staying in. We’ll prepare tea. Come on, sit down here.” A voice. Not soft, but rather deep and kind. The plant nods repeatedly in agreement. A dull pain hits my head. It wasn’t sudden. Rather, it was a slow one. I grasp it with my hand while returning to the table. It seems that although my heart wants an adventure, my brain does not. The table is reminiscent of ones kids go on and scatter their toys on, while the chairs are stools. I sit down. With my face a flustered red.

The cat is sitting across me. He asks me, “What could possibly the matter? Surely you weren’t offended by some mad hatter.”

“This chair is small. I feel like a kid. A little boy.” I speak as my face gets even redder. I want to hide it.

“And what is wrong with acting young? To be concerned with age is quite cumbersome. ‘Age is just a number’ is what they say. When all men simply want to justify play.” My face returns to its normal color upon hearing these words. I let out a sigh. On my face is a small pout, though lacking in energy.

The two women return with the tea. The smell is sweet and airy. Its fragrance could be called… floral. Its taste is the same.

“I like it. It’s really calming.” I say with a smile.

“That’s good. Has your headache subsided?” The sculpture says while taking a sip. I never told her about my headache though. She’s quite observant. Like a mother worried for her child.

“Yes, thank you.” I am thrown off by the fact a sculpture is consuming liquids, but I put the thought at the back of my head. I look at the rest of the group. The plant is hesitating to touch it, probably because of its heat. The cat is on the table, licking the tea. Rude as it might be, I left him alone. After all, he would definitely make a comeback. After all, his comebacks are ones of a wise old man. After all, whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

Echo and Narcissus

Outside, the sun is bright. The brightness is refreshing. When it reaches my skin it feels like it’s flowing in; invigorating my body. As I stretch my body, the plant joins me. She barely speaks. The city is paved with buildings too fantastical to be called as such. They looked like gingerbread houses painted with rainbows. Alongside them are pots. Pots for flowers. The flowers in them are white. Like a cloud. At its center is a golden yellow. Like the sun. Like the sun, they are shining and invigorating. Like us, they are invigorated by the sun.

“Do you like plants?” The plant nods. Quiet, almost creepily so. She never talks, and when she tries to someone always says something for her. Fortunately, her sincere smile balances it out. It’s so easy to feel comfortable with her.

“Do you like plants?” A voice. An unfamiliar one. I look at the plant and see her expectant face. “So she actually said something,” I think.

“Yes, they’re pleasing to look at.” My voice came out a tad flustered. Probably because we’re actually holding a conversation. “What do you think of these flowers? Aren’t they pretty?” She nods; with her face sweet. “Do you know what they’re called?” She nods again. “What are they?” Her face turns distressed immediately. Her mouth opens and she mouths something, but I don’t understand it. It appears she can tell, so she decides to use her hands to spell it.

“N-A-R-C-I-S-S-U-S”

“Narcissus? Did I pronounce it right?” She nods; with her face bright. I move closer to the pots. I examine the Narcissus. “They’re really beautiful.” The plant comes close as well. She tries to touch them, but decides not to. I go off to the island’s shore.

“Do you want to come with me?” I ask the plant. She doesn’t do anything, but gaze at the flowers. As if mesmerized. As if in love.

Pygmalion

Walking. Walking. Walking. Walking under the bright sunlight. The sunlight lights the path I should take. A path filled with overgrown plants, trees, and berries. A path to my destination; the shore. For what reason do I go there? For entertainment? For relaxation? For a trip? Perhaps all three are my reasons.

Walking. Walking. Walking. Walking to the shore. The shore where the ocean and sky collide. They collide to create that beautiful image. That vast yet symmetrical image. The image of this world.

Walking. Walking. Walking. Walking just past the sculpture. The motherly sculpture who takes care of us all. What is she doing here? “Good morning. How are you?” I call out to the sculpture.

“Oh, hello there. I’m fine, thank you. What are you up to?”

“I’m just on a walk. Going to the shore. What about you?”

“I’m gathering all sorts of things for food. Berries, herbs, veggies and the like.”

“For all of us? You didn’t have to. We could’ve helped. Would you let me do so now?”

“It’s quite all right. Nothing much for me to do anyways. You don’t need to.”

“It’s fine, I tell you.” I hold her basket for her. My hand came into contact with hers. I never really thought about it, but she really is a sculpture. Sculpture is just a sort of title for her, but now I see that she is one through and through. After all, her hand was cold. Her hand was lifeless.

“If you insist. I guess I’ll let you.”

“Okay, just tell me what you need.”

Walking. Walking. Walking. Walking down the path leading to the shore. However, I’m not going to the shore. My destination is right here. Looking for food.

“Oh could you get that. It’s ripe and really delicious.”

“Sure.”

“Nice. This is quite the rare fruit, so we’re lucky to find it.”

“Is that so? Nice to hear.” The fruit had a nice smell. Sweet and floral, just like the tea we had. “Did you use this for our tea?”

“Yes, there was only one left in the kitchen.”

“Ah, we really are lucky then.” I won’t lie; I could live on that tea if I could. It was really good.

“Oh, what is this?” The sculpture sounded surprised. I followed the direction of her eyes.

“A narcissus flower. You didn’t know. The plant likes them a lot.”

“I know, but I don’t think I saw them this far in. That’s weird.”

“Are you sure of that? Perhaps you never noticed ‘till now.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

Here we are, picking fruit. The basket I’m holding is nearly filled. Just a few batches, and then we’ll be done. I’m getting tired, so I try to distract myself while I’m on a tree. “Excuse me, are you a mother?” I asked the sculpture.

“No, why do you ask?”

“You act like one. You’re always trying to take care of us and reminding us for our behavior.”

She chuckles, “Well, I’m not a mother, but I am married.”

“I see. Your husband is fortunate to have someone to always care for him.”

“That’s not really true.” Her tone was downcast.

Worried, I jump down and ask her, “Is there something wrong?”

“Ah, no. I mean, I wouldn’t be here if I always cared for him.”

“I suppose that’s true. But don’t get down over it. You need some time on your own, right?”

She chuckles again. “I don’t think you quite understand, but thank you. It’s fine.” Her tone was back to its calm, stern and motherly nature. “Now you better get back to work! If you offer to help me, then do it all the way.”

I laugh, “Yes, mam!”

“Thank you again for your help. I wouldn’t have been able to fill the basket without it.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be on my way to the shore.” As I said that, the sculpture started walking back. I never really noticed until now but… But she moves rather awkwardly. As if she’s stiff. As if she’s burdened.

Cheshire Cat

The sun is bright. The brightness is refreshing. When it reaches my skin it feels like it’s flowing in; invigorating my body. Despite being under the sun for a long time, I don’t feel tired. I stretch my body. The smell of salt water reaches my nose. I let out a moan. This feels comfortable and nice. I looked around at my surroundings. A colorful city. A colorful sky. This is… yes, a colorful world. What was once a simple radiant light had changed into a simple island by the shore. The ocean, bright with the reflection of the sun. The sun, giving the sky its beloved blue and pink color. The two collided to create one image; an image of this world.

“Hello there! Are you enjoying this place? For if you aren’t, then we’ll fix up your taste.” A voice. A familiar voice. A mischievous, high-pitched voice. The cat’s voice.

No one likes having offended another person; hence everyone feels so much better if the other person doesn't show he's been offended. So let’s try this, “That hurts. What exactly do you think of me, so as to talk offendingly?”

“My attitude towards you is an attitude towards a soul. I am not of the opinion that you have a soul.” I laughed. My attempt failed. He really is a wise man. His provocative grin plastered on his face simply made him seem childish though. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? A fool simply dawdling without as much as a shield.”

“Are you one to talk? You’re naked!”

“A true wise man is fine with his words. A fool cannot even defend from a turd.”

We laughed. Over here, if the sculpture is my mother; and the plant my little sister, then the cat is my best friend. We did not do anything but talk the day away. “Oh really then, how is it that you’re wise? You must enlighten this fool who begs for your wisdom.”

“Life experience is necessary. I philosophize daily.”

“Ah, truly the sign of pretentiousness.”

“A fool you are, no wonder. To you, ‘What is life?’ has no answer.

“My philosophy is good enough,” I say that as I walk to the shoreline. Barefoot, with the waves hitting my feet over and over. The cat follows me and is at my side. “Are you okay on the water?”

“Yes, I am. Simply because I am a cat doesn’t mean I hate water.” That’s the first. The first time he did not speak in rhyme.

“Hey, you don’t have to give a name, but do you know where we are?”

“If you mean coordinates, then no either. I have been here, that’s all.”

“Okay, how did you get here?”

“I fell into a hole. Nothing special.”

“How do we see that hole?”

“I don’t really know, honestly. I don’t know anything about this place.”

“Ah, I see. Sorry.” I wonder what’s wrong. His rhymes have stopped.

“The mystical is not how the world is, but that it is.”

“Huh?”

“See, you are a fool. That concept is as known and helpful as tools.”

We chuckle. For some reason, it lacked our usual vigor and humor. “Shall we head back?” I ask.

“Let’s go.” For some reason, when his words don’t rhyme, he sounds bored and unhappy. As if there’s nothing important to note. As if he knows all.

When The Seagulls Cry

“Ah, please wait.” I request.

“Sure.” I saw something at the corner of my eye. It was on the shore. The vast shoreline. In it, one sparkle. It is shining. It is a message in a bottle. I go to it and pick it up.

“Trying to contact someone across the seven seas? How romantic.” I say aloud. Curious, I opened the bottle and took the letter. The letter was simply a page of a notebook. I’m slightly disappointed. It smells slightly burnt, and a bit like salt. I unroll the letter. There is only one line on it. One line, yes. And yet, I had a hunch… no – a conviction. And so I start running. Because of one line, I start running. The cat follows after me.

“Hey, what’s the matter!?” His screams reach me, but I don’t waste my breath trying to explain. Instead, I try to recall Lord Vidocq’s theory and run. Running, while making sounds like that of consecutive 8th notes on allegro. I can’t stop. That’s what my conviction told me. On the path that leads me back to the city, I’m running.

Running. Running. Running. Running under the bright sunlight. The sunlight lights the path I should take. A path filled with overgrown plants, trees, and berries. A path to my destination; the city. For what reason do I go there? For my safety? For the two women? For the cat? All three are my reasons.

Running. Running. Running. Running to the city. The city where the narcissus grow. The narcissus that make the plant so happy. That sweet, kind, and quiet plant.

Running. Running. Running. Running just past the sculpture. The motherly sculpture who takes care of us all. What is she doing here? “What are you doing here?!” I call out to the sculpture. She doesn’t reply. Why, why, why is she still here? She’s still holding her basket. The basket filled to the brim with all sorts of plants.

“Ah, ah, I’m so sad.” The sculpture finally replied.

“What are you talking about? Are you okay? We better run!”

“Ah, it’s okay. I don’t need to go.”

“Why? We need you! Please, come with us!”

“I don’t want to. It seems that I… didn’t care enough.” Her tone was choked. She had difficulty speaking. Not for physical reasons, but for emotional.

“You cared for us. It’s okay. I swear.” But it was too late. She stopped moving entirely. Frozen, like a real sculpture. “Ahh, no. No, no, no. Why? For us, you were like a mother!” A crack. Straight across the face. A crack. Straight across the hands. A basket fell on the ground. A crack. Straight across the torso. The three cracks connected and… she shattered.

“Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?”

“Get over it, even if she was dear. In the end, we’re all mad down here!” I’m brought back to my senses. He is right. We’re all mad down here. That’s why… I run even more. I try to recall Lord Vidocq’s theory and run. Running, while making sounds like that of consecutive 16th notes on allegro. I can’t stop. That’s what my conviction told me. On the path that leads me back to the city, I’m running.

Running. Running. Running. Running under the heavy rain. The rain floods the path I should take. A path filled with water, grass and bugs. A path to my destination; the city. For what reason do I go there? For my safety? For the plant? For the cat? All three are my reasons.

Running. Running. Running. Running to the city. The city where the narcissus grow. The narcissus that make the plant so happy. That sweet, kind, and quiet plant.

Running. Running. Running. Running just past a burning field. A burning field of narcissus. Why? Why? The narcissus she loved so much. Why? In the center of the field, the plant was there. What is she doing here? “What are you doing here?!” I call out to the plant. She doesn’t reply. Why, why, why is she still here? She’s lying down on the ground. I run to her.

“The– re… -tiful.” She finally replied.

“What is it? Speak to me! Ah, if you can’t, I’ll try to understand. Please. Please. Please.”

“They’re real… -utiful.”

“What is it?” My voice is cracking. My throat hurts, and I’m continuously gasping for air. Please. Plant. Don’t go.

“They’re really beautiful.”

“Ehh?” Dumbfounded, I don’t know what else to say.

“They’re really beautiful.”

“They’re really beautiful.”

“They’re really beautiful.”

“They’re really beautiful.”

“They’re really beautiful.”

She keeps saying that for some reason. I simply stare at her. Dumbfounded. Perhaps it’s my realization. A tug on my sleeve. With teeth. I’m snapped back into reality. I run out of the flaming field, along with the cat. He doesn’t even need to tell me what to do. We’re all mad down here. That’s why… I run even more. I try to recall Lord Vidocq’s theory and run. Running, while making sounds like that of consecutive 32nd notes on allegro. I can’t stop. That’s what my conviction told me. On the path that leads me back to the city, I’m running.

Running. Running. Running. Running on a burnt wasteland. The heat burns the path I should take. A path filled with dead grass and dead bugs. A path to my destination; the city. For what reason do I go there? For my safety? For the cat? For the sake of running? I don’t even know anymore.

Running. Running. Running. Running to the city. The city where the narcissus grow. The narcissus that made the plant so happy. That sweet, kind, and quiet plant.

Running. Running. Running. Running just past an empty city. The city is paved with buildings too fantastical to be called as such. They looked like gingerbread houses painted with rainbows. Alongside them are pots. Pots for flowers. The flowers are… gone. Gone… Why? I fall on my knees. The cat goes up to me. Then, I remember. “You have to run.”

“Hahahahaha, is this not comical!? Is this not comical!?” For some reason, when he said this he was crying. And yet, his provocative grin was still plastered on his face.

“Just run! Please! You have to for when –.”

Time stops. My words. The cat’s laughter. The sound of a flame crackling. The sound of someone breathing. All of it. The only things that transcended them are cries.

––– For when the seagulls cry;

–––None will be left alive.

Well, if there's another reason I don't want to use google docs, it's because I really want to edit the ending, which isn't present here.

Also, in response to your side note:

Have you heard of this quote?

"Day before yesterday, I saw a rabbit. Yesterday, a deer. And today, you."

It went something like that anyway. It's from The Dandelion Girl, hence the chapter title.

Huh. Well, I didn't expect that at all.

 

Why did the MC suddenly start falling? Is it because he followed the deer into the darkness? Did the MC end up going into a different dimensional plane of sorts from following the deer or something?

 

I liked the fact the Cheshire Cat was in the story. I enjoyed some of his dialogue.

 

The moment I saw the title to the final part - When The Seagulls Cry - I immediately thought of Umineko, of which I finished watching for the second time yesterday. What exactly is Lord Vidocq's Theory? Neither Google or myself seem to be familiar with that term. And why did the world begin falling apart? Did it have to do with the message in the bottle?

 

Though I will say I ended up actually caring for the statue, plant and cat as they... I'd assume the word I'm looking for is died, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I'm not entirely sure what exactly happened to them. Actually, did the MC expire (that seems a better word than died, seeing as how I'm not sure what happened to him.) before the cat? Or did they both do so at the same time along with the rest of the area?

 

Also, yes I've heard of the quote, though from Clannad not the book. I actually thought of the quote for some reason though when I was reading the The Dandelion Girl chapter. Not sure why.

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Huh. Well, I didn't expect that at all.

 

Why did the MC suddenly start falling? Is it because he followed the deer into the darkness? Did the MC end up going into a different dimensional plane of sorts from following the deer or something?

 

I liked the fact the Cheshire Cat was in the story. I enjoyed some of his dialogue.

 

The moment I saw the title to the final part - When The Seagulls Cry - I immediately thought of Umineko, of which I finished watching for the second time yesterday. What exactly is Lord Vidocq's Theory? Neither Google or myself seem to be familiar with that term. And why did the world begin falling apart? Did it have to do with the message in the bottle?

 

Though I will say I ended up actually caring for the statue, plant and cat as they... I'd assume the word I'm looking for is died, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I'm not entirely sure what exactly happened to them. Actually, did the MC expire (that seems a better word than died, seeing as how I'm not sure what happened to him.) before the cat? Or did they both do so at the same time along with the rest of the area?

 

Also, yes I've heard of the quote, though from Clannad not the book. I actually thought of the quote for some reason though when I was reading the The Dandelion Girl chapter. Not sure why.

Well, there's still the ending I have to edit. After which I -might- answer the rest of your questions.

Regarding Vidocq, this story is heavily inspired by Shikkoku no Sharnoth, so the name is a reference to Mary's thoughts. Mary has several scenes where she runs from something, and she's thinks something like, "Remembering Lord Vidocq's theory, she runs." That's it really.

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Well, there's still the ending I have to edit. After which I -might- answer the rest of your questions.

Regarding Vidocq, this story is heavily inspired by Shikkoku no Sharnoth, so the name is a reference to Mary's thoughts. Mary has several scenes where she runs from something, and she's thinks something like, "Remembering Lord Vidocq's theory, she runs." That's it really.

Ah, okay. So, what is the Theory? Because I feel I'm missing context as to why she ran. Unless, of course, it's explained by the ending or something along those lines.

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Vidocq's theory of Proactive Policing, I mean. And Vidocq is considered as the world's first private detective. It's really just a way for her to feel safe. Overall, it has no large impact in my story at least.

If you're wondering about Mary's running, it's running away from Eldritch Abominations. For the "Unknown Man", it's because of the line in the bottle which is, "When the Seagulls cry, none will be left alive." And yes, it's an Umineko reference.

 

The end is here.

Sharnoth of the Deepest Black

–––The world stopped–––

–––Everything stopped–––

–––His now stopped–––

A black city. A black sky. This is… yes, a black world. The real one. Black. Black. Black. Everything in this world is black. The sky looks like the ground, and the buildings are the same as the spaces between them. Walking forward feels no different than walking back. And looking up is no different from looking down. I felt dizzy. Losing my sense of equilibrium, I fell on the black ground. No one’s here. I could make out the outlines of things here though. It must be because… I was always here.

“Is anyone there?” No one was there. There was no one here. Black. Nothing else. I didn’t feel terror. I just looked blankly. An empty hollow feeling filled my heart. A strange conviction that I was alone in this place spread out across my mind.

It burns. This place burns. The sound of nothing rings throughout. Not even the sound of a flame crackling, or the sound of one breathing. Why is it then that this place burns? Ah yes, it must be…

Because this place is cold.

Ah, it’s so cold. So cold I don’t even feel it. I try to move my arms to hold myself. But alas, they’re impeded by a force I cannot see or feel.

A sound. A sound I heard like a deaf man hearing. I am surprised, but realized the logic in the matter.

It was my throat; my throat gasping for air. Out of fear? Out of the cold? Out of a lack of air? I myself don’t know.

I can move. But then I have no need to move. In this world where nothing but black exists, why would I need to move?

Despite that, I look around. For anything. For “You”. Day before yesterday, I saw a rabbit. Yesterday, a deer. And today… where are “you”? Ah it’s hopeless. In the midst of an unknown world, there is only my motionless body. No one could find me in the first place. This is a hopeless case. In the midst of an unknown world, I close my eyes. I mutter, “Is this not comical?” under my breath. And with a tear and a smile… I give in to the black.

–––Thus,–––

–––I deny tomorrow. –––

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Vidocq's theory of Proactive Policing, I mean. And Vidocq is considered as the world's first private detective. It's really just a way for her to feel safe. Overall, it has no large impact in my story at least.

If you're wondering about Mary's running, it's running away from Eldritch Abominations. For the "Unknown Man", it's because of the line in the bottle which is, "When the Seagulls cry, none will be left alive." And yes, it's an Umineko reference.

Is the Umineko reference from the games? It's interesting, I've seen the anime twice, and I've had the games on my hard drive for about 7 months but I haven't began actually playing them too much yet. I would've started playing them yesterday, in fact. Though over the past 7 months of the game being on my hard drive, I've occasionally gone into it, done a couple things and then left it alone, and at one point I had unlocked a later chapter (No idea what I was thinking) and now I'm privy to a certain mechanic in the game, and I'm unsure how to revert the change, if that's even possible.

 

That certain game mechanic being the fact that you can kill off and resurrect people, which it reminds me of

every time I start the game.

 

And there's absolutely nothing anywhere on how to undo the chapter unlock. I've searched both Google and around these forums and have discovered a whole lot of nothing even remotely related.

 

Edit: Quick question, does the end of your story have anything else to do with Umineko references? Because I'd rather not spoil myself anymore than I already have at this point.

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Is the Umineko reference from the games? It's interesting, I've seen the anime twice, and I've had the games on my hard drive for about 7 months but I haven't began actually playing them too much yet. I would've started playing them yesterday, in fact. Though over the past 7 months of the game being on my hard drive, I've occasionally gone into it, done a couple things and then left it alone, and at one point I had unlocked a later chapter (No idea what I was thinking) and now I'm privy to a certain mechanic in the game, and I'm unsure how to revert the change, if that's even possible.

 

That certain game mechanic being the fact that you can kill off and resurrect people, which it reminds me of

every time I start the game.

 

And there's absolutely nothing anywhere on how to undo the chapter unlock.

 

Edit: Quick question, does the end of your story have anything else to do with Umineko references? Because I'd rather not spoil myself anymore than I already have at this point.

 

For clarity's purpose, Umineko's mechanics are really all in the text.  Just go through the first chapter like normal, and you'll get to the point where the second one is unlocked as you go along.  Don't forget to do the first Tea Party and ???'s after you finish the first episode.

 

The killing off/resurrecting people thing is actually just so you can go back and read the details on specific characters after their alive/dead status changes in-game.  It has no bearing on the narrative whatsoever.

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For clarity's purpose, Umineko's mechanics are really all in the text.  Just go through the first chapter like normal, and you'll get to the point where the second one is unlocked as you go along.  Don't forget to do the first Tea Party and ???'s after you finish the first episode.

 

The killing off/resurrecting people thing is actually just so you can go back and read the details on specific characters after their alive/dead status changes in-game.  It has no bearing on the narrative whatsoever.

 

You'll be able to read it unspoiled, so don't worry. Also, that game mechanic is just to see the tips on how they were when alive or dead for the particular episode. 

Ah, okay. So, how long should it take for me to go through each chapter?

 

And from what I've read the approximate length of each game is ~120 - 130 hours or so. How long should that take if I do nothing but play them?

 

Also, thanks for the clarification.

 

Edit: Derp. I didn't even realize I was derailing, sorry about that.

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Vidocq's theory of Proactive Policing, I mean. And Vidocq is considered as the world's first private detective. It's really just a way for her to feel safe. Overall, it has no large impact in my story at least.

If you're wondering about Mary's running, it's running away from Eldritch Abominations. For the "Unknown Man", it's because of the line in the bottle which is, "When the Seagulls cry, none will be left alive." And yes, it's an Umineko reference.

 

The end is here.

Sharnoth of the Deepest Black

–––The world stopped–––

–––Everything stopped–––

–––His now stopped–––

A black city. A black sky. This is… yes, a black world. The real one. Black. Black. Black. Everything in this world is black. The sky looks like the ground, and the buildings are the same as the spaces between them. Walking forward feels no different than walking back. And looking up is no different from looking down. I felt dizzy. Losing my sense of equilibrium, I fell on the black ground. No one’s here. I could make out the outlines of things here though. It must be because… I was always here.

“Is anyone there?” No one was there. There was no one here. Black. Nothing else. I didn’t feel terror. I just looked blankly. An empty hollow feeling filled my heart. A strange conviction that I was alone in this place spread out across my mind.

It burns. This place burns. The sound of nothing rings throughout. Not even the sound of a flame crackling, or the sound of one breathing. Why is it then that this place burns? Ah yes, it must be…

Because this place is cold.

Ah, it’s so cold. So cold I don’t even feel it. I try to move my arms to hold myself. But alas, they’re impeded by a force I cannot see or feel.

A sound. A sound I heard like a deaf man hearing. I am surprised, but realized the logic in the matter.

It was my throat; my throat gasping for air. Out of fear? Out of the cold? Out of a lack of air? I myself don’t know.

I can move. But then I have no need to move. In this world where nothing but black exists, why would I need to move?

Despite that, I look around. For anything. For “You”. Day before yesterday, I saw a rabbit. Yesterday, a deer. And today… where are “you”? Ah it’s hopeless. In the midst of an unknown world, there is only my motionless body. No one could find me in the first place. This is a hopeless case. In the midst of an unknown world, I close my eyes. I mutter, “Is this not comical?” under my breath. And with a tear and a smile… I give in to the black.

–––Thus,–––

–––I deny tomorrow. –––

 

Just got around to reading the end of the story. I found it interesting not only in how the MC ended up back where he began, but also how he had said the same thing the Cheshire Cat said. Wasn't it, if I recall correctly, one of the last things he said to the MC? So, if my interpretation is correct, in the end he wound up both accepting his fate and finding it funny? Interesting.

 

Also, you said in a previous post you might answer my questions upon the story's conclusion. Would you be willing to answer them now that I've read the ending?

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Just got around to reading the end of the story. I found it interesting not only in how the MC ended up back where he began, but also how he had said the same thing the Cheshire Cat said. Wasn't it, if I recall correctly, one of the last things he said to the MC? So, if my interpretation is correct, in the end he wound up both accepting his fate and finding it funny? Interesting.

 

Also, you said in a previous post you might answer my questions upon the story's conclusion. Would you be willing to answer them now that I've read the ending?

Interpretations are fun. Well, for me at least. So I'll give hints.

 

Huh. Well, I didn't expect that at all.

 

Why did the MC suddenly start falling? Is it because he followed the deer into the darkness? Did the MC end up going into a different dimensional plane of sorts from following the deer or something?

What do you think the chapter, 'Down the Rabbit Hole', symbolizes? Not just what it means here, but also in Alice in Wonderland.

 

And why did the world begin falling apart? Did it have to do with the message in the bottle?

The message in the bottle was the trigger for it to fall apart. It ties in with the answer you might find with the hint above.

 

Though I will say I ended up actually caring for the statue, plant and cat as they... I'd assume the word I'm looking for is died, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I'm not entirely sure what exactly happened to them. Actually, did the MC expire (that seems a better word than died, seeing as how I'm not sure what happened to him.) before the cat? Or did they both do so at the same time along with the rest of the area?

I'm not comfortable with the word, 'die' here. Think of it like this, the last words of the story do not necessarily apply to just the unknown man.

 

Wasn't it, if I recall correctly, one of the last things he said to the MC? So, if my interpretation is correct, in the end he wound up both accepting his fate and finding it funny? Interesting.

Your interpretation is somewhat correct. But lacks a few details. Who else in the story repeats the last thing said to them? And what is the story of that character? Also, what do you think the phrase, "Thus, I deny tomorrow," mean?

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Interpretations are fun. Well, for me at least. So I'll give hints.

 

I'll respond to your questions as best I can, though don't expect too much, because I'm starting to get a tad tired and that may or may not be affecting my thought processes at the moment. We'll see, I guess.

 

 

What do you think the chapter, 'Down the Rabbit Hole', symbolizes? Not just what it means here, but also in Alice in Wonderland.
I'm not entirely sure what exactly it means in AiW, because I can't remember much of the original story. That is, if I even read it in the first place. I may have, but if I did it was forever ago, and my memory isn't the best, so that doesn't help much. Neither does the fact that I've only ever seen a few movies that re-interpret the original story, and even then, I don't remember much on those either. As for what it means here, I'll re-read the chapter and get back to you on that with an edit below this if I have an answer.
 
The message in the bottle was the trigger for it to fall apart. It ties in with the answer you might find with the hint above.
I had guessed that the message was the catalyst, but I don't know why. I guess I'll figure it out upon knowing the answer to your above question.
 
I'm not comfortable with the word, 'die' here. Think of it like this, the last words of the story do not necessarily apply to just the unknown man.
Nor am I, which is why I chose a different phrase. By last words, do you mean the final line, second to last line, or both of them as a whole? Because if it has to do with either the second to last line or both of them, I'll hold off on that for a bit, as I have a feeling the second to last line has something to do with a combination of Umineko, as well as something along the lines of spoiler territory. In the event it has to do with something about spoilers concerning Umineko, I've been fervently trying to get the phrase out of my head whenever possible. It's been working thus far, but I don't know how long I can keep that up, because I keep thinking about it. 
 
Your interpretation is somewhat correct. But lacks a few details. Who else in the story repeats the last thing said to them? And what is the story of that character? Also, what do you think the phrase, "Thus, I deny tomorrow," mean?
I'll get to that upon re-reading the story, which I will do now. As with above, the answer will come in the form of an edit. And as for the phrase "Thus, I deny tomorrow." Do you mean what it means to me or in concerns to the story?

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I'll respond to your questions as best I can, though don't expect too much, because I'm starting to get a tad tired and that may or may not be affecting my thought processes at the moment. We'll see, I guess.

Sure, sure! I understand.

Also, was my interpretation correct? If it's not, that understandable, as there is always margin for error in concerns to interpretations.

Mostly, it's just missing a few details.

I'm not entirely sure what exactly it means in AiW, because I can't remember much of the original story. That is, if I even read it in the first place. I may have, but if I did it was forever ago, and my memory isn't the best, so that doesn't help much. Neither does the fact that I've only ever seen a few movies that re-interpret the original story, and even then, I don't remember much on those either. As for what it means here, I'll re-read the chapter and get back to you on that with an edit below this if I have an answer.

You don't have to read AiW to get it. I'm fairly sure all versions of it have similar meanings. I wouldn't have got it if it weren't for sparknotes, so that could help too. 

Nor am I, which is why I chose a different phrase. By last words, do you mean the final line, second to last line, or both of them as a whole? Because if it has to do with either the second to last line or both of them, I'll hold off on that for a bit, as I have a feeling the second to last line has something to do with a combination of Umineko, as well as something along the lines of spoiler territory. In the event it has to do with something about spoilers concerning Umineko, I've been fervently trying to get the phrase out of my head whenever possible. It's been working thus far, but I don't know how long I can keep that up, because I keep thinking about it. 

I refer to the line, "Thus, I deny tomorrow." It's not related to Umineko, but rather to Sharnoth. It's not a spoiler, either.

 

And as for the phrase "Thus, I deny tomorrow." Do you mean what it means to me or in concerns to the story?

Hmm, the phrase in it's literal and figurative meaning. If you refused tomorrow, where would you go? What does it mean to deny tomorrow? Haha, it's a bit pretentious, but it matters in the story. I guess the straightforward answer is the latter choice.

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What details might I be missing?

 

You don't have to read AiW to get it. I'm fairly sure all versions of it have similar meanings. I wouldn't have got it if it weren't for sparknotes, so that could help too.

Well, Google has answered my question faster than I ever could've. So, it means entry into the unknown? Interesting. That answers my initial question.

 

I refer to the line, "Thus, I deny tomorrow." It's not related to Umineko, but rather to Sharnoth. It's not a spoiler, either.

I know that line isn't related to Umineko, I was talking about the line that was above it. That is, if the last words you were referring to were the last words of that chapter specifically. Because I'm fairly certain you had said that they were in reference to Umineko, of which I've only just began reading. That, and the set of words that had started out with When The Seagulls Cry (Which is all I remember at the moment, thank God) sound an awful lot like they'd be a spoiler of some kind, seeing as how they were presented.

 

Edit: Okay, upon further analysis (i.e. taking everything, provided it's correct, into account concerning the next answer's info) I think have the answer. So, they didn't "die" so to speak, but rather stopped existing altogether? Fascinating.

 

Hmm, the phrase in it's literal and figurative meaning. If you refused tomorrow, where would you go? What does it mean to deny tomorrow? Haha, it's a bit pretentious, but it matters in the story. I guess the straightforward answer is the latter choice.

Well, I'm fairly certain that, dependant on if it were to be taken literally and in a fictional setting, you would, quite literally, cease to exist. At least in a setting in which logic like that were to be possible, like your story, for example. Other than that, I'm unsure.

 

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