Well excuse me for having a seemingly unrelenting man-crush on that incredible goggle-head.
I admire him, and his world, the way a painter admires a white canvas.
With no further ado, let's see where this takes me. It's awfully short for now, I know. Just a tiny snippet short of 500 words. It's not even a fully-fledged Project like my other works...at least not yet.
I just wanted to take this first step. More will come.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The irreverent night, clad in black, purple and gold; the night of a city that refuses to sleep.
Night belongs not to virtue or innocence. Night is the time for sin, for those who wish to indulge the way they cannot allow themselves to do under the light of the sun. Darkness belongs to the tainted. Darkness, hued with the pale artificial lights of the ever-busy metropolis, but darkness nonetheless: fluorescence cannot conceal the murky depths of human decadence.
It is the nature of humans to sin. Nonetheless, hopeless parents hurry to tuck their children in their beds every night, silently praying the darkness will fail to claim their childrenÆs innocence if only for a little longer.
Yes, good parents make sure young children do not stay up late. However, once they tuck their children in bed, kiss their foreheads and close the bedroom door behind, they somehow assume their job is done for the evening.
What about this child, then, who quietly watches the dark ceiling of his bedroom every night?
He is slow to sleep, which causes him no little trouble every morning.
Light sweeps in from the window and past the translucent curtains, drawing alien shapes on the featureless ceiling. Shadows dance a wicked ritual; a libidinous mating of amorphous celebrants like the festivals of a time before civilization.
The boy watched the shadows dance with empty, tired eyes.
He had a headache.
It was an intense palpitation, as if someone were hammering nails deep into his white matter. Then again, he remembered reading somewhere that the brain had no pain receptors, so poking it directly would not hurt at all.
The boy sighed and licked his dry lips. He needed to sleep. He had school the next day, and it was not just any school day.
But, it was quickly becoming apparent to him that sleep was not an option that evening.
ôHaaàö
Nobody heard his dejected sigh. The shadows continued their shapeless fornication on the ceiling, unbothered by the boyÆs tribulations.
ôSo itÆs really you guys againàö
He spoke with his eyes closed, addressing no one and expecting no response.
ôàitÆs been a while.ö
A car honked in the distance. Twoùno, threeùgirls laughed shrilly. A cat shrieked after a poor landing on a metal trash can, causing to topple down and roll around on the closed alley behind the boyÆs residence.
ôàdo whatever you want.ö
A sliver of nightlight made his honey pupils flicker. There might have been a hint of vermilion, but with nobody to see it, it might as well not exist.
ôàI'm here.ö
The rubbing and rustling of thick sheets dispelled the gloomy silence of the bedroom as the boy turned his body towards the window. His pupils danced almost imperceptibly, excited by an evanescent shower of lingering photons from the world of sin outside his four walls. The meaningless sound pollution of the urban nightlife made for a poor lullaby, yet somehow he found it suitable.
It was a quiet, sleepless night for Matsuda Takato.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DANEEL RUSH presents:
DIGIMON TAMERS: GARDENS OF BABYLON
Prelude
Morning Mayflower
I admire him, and his world, the way a painter admires a white canvas.
With no further ado, let's see where this takes me. It's awfully short for now, I know. Just a tiny snippet short of 500 words. It's not even a fully-fledged Project like my other works...at least not yet.
I just wanted to take this first step. More will come.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The irreverent night, clad in black, purple and gold; the night of a city that refuses to sleep.
Night belongs not to virtue or innocence. Night is the time for sin, for those who wish to indulge the way they cannot allow themselves to do under the light of the sun. Darkness belongs to the tainted. Darkness, hued with the pale artificial lights of the ever-busy metropolis, but darkness nonetheless: fluorescence cannot conceal the murky depths of human decadence.
It is the nature of humans to sin. Nonetheless, hopeless parents hurry to tuck their children in their beds every night, silently praying the darkness will fail to claim their childrenÆs innocence if only for a little longer.
Yes, good parents make sure young children do not stay up late. However, once they tuck their children in bed, kiss their foreheads and close the bedroom door behind, they somehow assume their job is done for the evening.
What about this child, then, who quietly watches the dark ceiling of his bedroom every night?
He is slow to sleep, which causes him no little trouble every morning.
Light sweeps in from the window and past the translucent curtains, drawing alien shapes on the featureless ceiling. Shadows dance a wicked ritual; a libidinous mating of amorphous celebrants like the festivals of a time before civilization.
The boy watched the shadows dance with empty, tired eyes.
He had a headache.
It was an intense palpitation, as if someone were hammering nails deep into his white matter. Then again, he remembered reading somewhere that the brain had no pain receptors, so poking it directly would not hurt at all.
The boy sighed and licked his dry lips. He needed to sleep. He had school the next day, and it was not just any school day.
But, it was quickly becoming apparent to him that sleep was not an option that evening.
ôHaaàö
Nobody heard his dejected sigh. The shadows continued their shapeless fornication on the ceiling, unbothered by the boyÆs tribulations.
ôSo itÆs really you guys againàö
He spoke with his eyes closed, addressing no one and expecting no response.
ôàitÆs been a while.ö
A car honked in the distance. Twoùno, threeùgirls laughed shrilly. A cat shrieked after a poor landing on a metal trash can, causing to topple down and roll around on the closed alley behind the boyÆs residence.
ôàdo whatever you want.ö
A sliver of nightlight made his honey pupils flicker. There might have been a hint of vermilion, but with nobody to see it, it might as well not exist.
ôàI'm here.ö
The rubbing and rustling of thick sheets dispelled the gloomy silence of the bedroom as the boy turned his body towards the window. His pupils danced almost imperceptibly, excited by an evanescent shower of lingering photons from the world of sin outside his four walls. The meaningless sound pollution of the urban nightlife made for a poor lullaby, yet somehow he found it suitable.
It was a quiet, sleepless night for Matsuda Takato.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DANEEL RUSH presents:
DIGIMON TAMERS: GARDENS OF BABYLON
Prelude
Morning Mayflower