.hack//SIGN Fan Fiction / .hack//LIMINALITY Fan Fiction / .hack//Legend Of Twilight Bracelet Fan Fiction ❯ Episode Two: .hack//Legacy ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Disclaimer: Project .hack/Bandai own The World. I own the rest. So HAH!

(This counts as the disclaimer for the entire Episode)

If you wish to praise me, write to ragnarok3@gmail.com Or, COMMENT! M'kay?

Credit: Due to where it is deserved. Read my annotation list.

 

Note: This one contains some sexuality, which, while isn't extremely graphic and depictive, may anger/ make people uncomfortable reading this. This also includes slight homosexuality, unfortunate for some, due to changing events that surround me and the people that I base characters off of, well, some radical changes are needed. Once again, there is nothing TOO graphic, however I wished to warn everyone ahead of time… a CYA of sorts…

Yet again, language.

I also hop onto some slight philosophy.

And… finally, for all of the Terry Goodkind fans (like me!) please note AHEAD of time that I realized (unintentionally) that I put Kahlan into the story (oops)… however, Fear Not! I will use something from Anne Rice… wait… oops… I mean… gah! You'll see. Now, enough of my rambling. Look for updates once a month (at least… vacations… zut alors). Well, on with the show, hold on to your hats, and enjoy!

Oh, and thanks for asking! I would have written all the conversations in foreign languages in, however I did not feel like doing so. If you don't believe I could have, tell me, and I will show you a thing or two… heh… I love French. And German. And Japanese. And………. (rambles on)

Also, turn off all cell phones. Silence is golden.

-Your Author- (6/21/05 5:55 PM)

 

Episode Two- .hacklegacy

 

 

Preface

 

I wandered in the shadows of my time,

A child lost in windswept, gray clouds

And pine trees surrounded,

Sweet-scented and unfolded joy.

The valley of my monumental thoughts shuddered,

Pieces of myself flew, tempest-tossed;

Unvanquished foes, dying heroes.

Softly, in a wondering moment of whispered peace,

And in constant death,

I knew myself as both small and large.

Left without my dreams,

With all the memories rotting inside,

I thought I was immortal,

But I am little less than nothing.

I'm no saint, no god, no prophet,

Just another lonely child.

 

Mary B. Haight- A Child Lost