InuYasha Fan Fiction / Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Always about her. ❯ Chapter one ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: Jezebel
“No, papa!” I screamed, panic in my voice, terror all around me.

“Come back don’t make me stay in here all by myself!”

“You’re not alone,” he called to me from the other side of the door. “I’ll stay right here, watching through the keyhole listening, praying. Nothing but good can come from rocking in that chair…”

I squeezed my eyes shut and heard the wind chimes clamoring louder, much louder now… I told myself, as I told myself before, that there was nothing to be afraid of. The dead couldn’t harm anyone. But if they couldn’t–why was I so terrified?

I heard Papa’s soft voice outside the locked door. “You do have her gifts, Kagome, you do…”

“Papa,” I wailed for one last time, “Please don’t make me…”

“Oh,” he said heavily, sighing, “Why do I have to force you? Why can’t you just believe? Lean back in the rocker, put your head against the high back, hold the chair arms and begin to rock. Sing if it helps to wash your mind clean of fear, of worries, of desires and emotions. Sing and sing until you become an empty pitcher…”

Oh yes, I’d heard this all before. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to turn me into the first daughter Kagome.

Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction / Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Fantasy / Adventure / Supernatural / Suspense | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 05.17.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 880 | Status: Work In Progress

 
 
 
Part one.
Chapter one.
 
 
There was something strange about the house where I grew up. There were shadows in the corners and whispers on the stairs and time was as irrelevant as honesty. Though how I knew that I couldn't say.
 
There was a war going on in out house, I silent war that sounded no guns, and the bodies that fell were only wishes that died and the bullets were only words and the blood that spilled was always called pride.
 
Though I'd never been to school-and I was seven years old and it was high time I was in school - it seemed I knew all about the Civil War. Around me the Civil War was still being waged, and though the future might stretch ahead for billions of years, it was still war we'd never forgot, for out pride had been injured, and our passions were lingering on. We'd lost the battle better won by the opposite side. Maybe that's why it still kept hurting.
 
Mamma and my aunt Ellsbeth always said that men liked violent discussions about wars better then any other topic, but if there were other wars of any importance at all, they were never discussed in our house. Papa would read any book, see any movie, cut out any magazine photo that represented war between brothers, even though his ancestors had fought against my maternal ones. He was a Yankee born, but a Southerner by preference.
 
At the dinner table he'd recount the plots of the long novels he read about General Robert E. Lee and give grisly accounts of all the bloody battles. And if most f what he read charmed me, it did not char either my aunt, who preferred the television, or my mom who preferred to read her own books, claiming Papa left out the best parts, which weren't fit for my young ears to hear.
 
That meant my ears and my cousin Kikyo's ears. Though most of the world believed Sango to be my sister, I knew she was my unmarried aunts illegitimate daughter-and that we had to shield her from the scorn of society by pretending she was my illegitimate older sister. I did have an illegitimate older sister, too, but she had died before I was born. Her name also was Kagome, and even though she had died a long time ago, she still lingered on. My papa never forgot the First and Best Kagome, and still hoped that some day I would be as special as she was.
 
My cousin, Kikyo, liked people to think she was my sister. I didn't know her true age for she never told me. No one in our house reveled their true ages only my age was talked about all the time. It was Kikyo's boast that she could be any age was wanted to be - Ten, twelve, fifteen and even twenty. With a few elegant and sophisticated truly she did change her manners and expression. She could look very mature - or very childlike…depending on her mood. She liked to ridicule me because I was so uncertain about time.
 
 
Often Kikyo told me I'd hatched full blown from a giant ostrich egg at the same age of seven. She often said I had inherited that birds famous habit of sticking its head in the sand and pretending nothing in this world was wrong. She didn't know about the dreams and the ugliness they gave me.
 
From the very behind I knew Kikyo was my enemy even when she pretended to be my friend. Though I wanted her for my friend in the worst ways, I knew she hated me she was jealous because I was a Kagome and she wasn't, Oh how I wanted Kikyo to like and admire me, as sometime I really liked and admired her. I envied her, too because she was too normal and didn't have to try to be like someone who was dead. No one seemed to care if Kikyo wasn't special. No one except Kikyo.
 
Kikyo was fond of telling me I wasn't special either, I was merely strange. To tell the truth I thought there was something strange about me, too. I seemed to be unable to recall anything about my childhood. I couldn't remember anything about the past - what I had done the week or even the day before. I didn't know how I learned the thing I knew, or why I seemed to know some things I shouldn't
 
The many clocks scattered about the house confused me even more, The grandfather clocks in the living room chimed about different hours; the cuckoos in their wooden Swiss clock pooped in and out of slam ornate doors, each contradicting all the others; the fancy French clock in my parents bedroom had stopped long ago at midnight or noon, and Chinese clocks ran backwards. To my giant distress, though I searched everywhere their were no calendars in our house, not even old ones, and the newspapers never came on the day they were due. Our only magazines were old ones, stacked in closets, hidden in the attic. Nobody threw anything away in out house. It was kept for our descendants so one day they can sell them and make a fortune.
 
Much of my insecurities had to do with the first Kagome, who had died exactly nine years before I was born she had died mysteriously in the woods after a cruel heartless boy had tainted her in some indescribable way, and because of her I was never supposed to enter the woods, even to go to school and the woods were all around us, smothering us. They embraced us on three sides, the river Lyle was on the fourth. To go anywhere we had to travel threw the woods.
 
In our home photographs of the First and Best Kagome were scattered. On Papa's desk, There were three framed pictures of her, At age one, two and three. Their was not a single baby picture of me, not one, and that hurt.