Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ I'm Free ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Trigun Fanfic
Summary:Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!
 
Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow * Shonen Gaho-sha * Tokuma Shoten * JVC * Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc.
The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale.
 
I'm Free
 
By Chiruken
 
Chapter 1
 
Gunsmoke, Present Day:
 
He was floating. It was if his mind had been detached from his body and he was now a distant observer. He was aware, in a distant part of his mind, of pain, yet it was merely a dim flicker at the edge of his awareness. Memories drifted in and out of his consciousness, seemingly unconnected events leading from one to another, a strange kaleidoscope of images blurring from one to another, the colours soft and muted with the passage of time.
 
Above it all, beyond the limited scope of his consciousness, looming up to consume every last minute piece of what was left of him, the pain remained, growing, blossoming, becoming all encompassing. And with the pain more memories resurfaced…memories of another time and a different pain. The sense of betrayal flared for a moment within him before quieting as the sharp stabbing agony blazed, chasing all other conscious thought from his dazed mind for what felt almost like an eternity.
 
Distorted sounds penetrated the fog clouding his mind in disjointed pieces, voices he didn't recognize, words he couldn't understand. Rising and falling pitches, tones both melodious and discordant, the sounds washed over him, through him, became a part of him. Words and phrases that had no meaning, yet somehow meant everything. Part of him wished that he could focus enough to understand what was being said, while another part cringed away from that very same understanding. He didn't want to know, yet at the same time he knew that it was very important that he did.
 
He was both warm and cold, alternating in temperatures constantly. Shivering one moment and bringing mind numbing pain followed immediately by the sensation of blistering heat that seared his entire body with agony. And through it all, round and round through his mind, odd memories resurfaced that brought no understanding and served only to confuse him further. Flashes of light, muffled words, the repeating report of gunfire, and red…so much red that he cringed away from it, pushing the memories away in desperation with remembered pain of that seared further than the mere physical hurt he constantly experienced while floating in the darkness.
 
He was floating in vast amounts of blue interspersed with green with white streaks flowing outwards, above him, below him, surrounding him as he twisted and turned within his own nightmarish thoughts that couldn't seem to focus on any one thing. Soft, springy greenness cushioned while the blue hovered just above him, out of reach. Melodies with no tune and no voice soothed him, whispering sounds felt more than heard spoke of ageless promises of peace. Yet through it all, a discordant note hovered, just beyond his awareness, circling menacingly, stalking him, hunting him, slowly, inexorably approaching until he could feel its shadow everywhere.
 
For a moment he felt something else, something other than the lush green that had been beneath him. Instead of cool, fragrant greenness he could feel something firm and unyielding, pressing against him in places that brought pain again. Above him, he could sense something light and soft, both warm and cool all at once, weighing him down and pinning his limbs to the lumpy mass beneath him. He thought, dimly, that he much preferred the green and blue place to where he was now, though here he couldn't sense the lingering shadows as strongly as before. He was caught between the desire to return to the green place with its discordant notes and terrifying encroaching darkness and staying where he was now, a place too warm, too harsh, with no melodies and so much pain that he quivered with the agony of it all. Yet here, the shadows couldn't reach him, this he knew instinctively. But despite knowing this he was still tempted to leave it behind again to escape from the pain wracking his body.
 
There was something he needed to know, something of vast importance, yet he couldn't quite grasp what it was. The more he chased it around through his pain-clouded mind, the more it eluded him. Frustrated, he followed, reaching out with mental fingers to grasp at it only to have it slip further away. Once again he could almost feel a warm wind brushing against him, rifling through his hair, tugging insistently at his clothing. Everything was so bright it hurt his eyes, though they remained closed. It was a memory, he knew. Yet, though he knew this, he was still drawn into it as if it were reality and not something from the past. Bright blue, muted beige, vibrant green…it all surrounded him, drew him closer to discovery. Then there was red, again, so much red that he felt a scream bubbling up, choking him, terrifying in its intensity. He decided at that moment, in a detached way that usually came to the dreaming mind, that he hated that colour. He hated red with every fiber of his being and if he never saw it again it would be much too soon for him. The scent of smoke and gunpowder assailed his senses, the acrid odor stinging his eyes and nose, filling his mouth, working its way through his pores to become a part of him. He fought against it, twisting and turning in the darkness of his mind to escape from it. And through it all, through all the discomfort, he felt a growing sense of hysteria, knowing instinctively that it was the red, the scent, the heat that was causing him so much pain that it was nearly impossible to focus on anything at any given moment and no matter what he did he couldn't escape from it. He turned and it followed. He pushed it away only to have it bounce right back to him, closer than ever.
 
He ached as he floated, hovering just beneath the awareness of awakening, fighting against the darkness suffocating him, yet also twisting around within his thoughts, striving to remain in the soft cushioning of unconsciousness lest the pain burning through him, branding him, intensified, driving him mad from the agony. One way led to terrors unimaginable, the darkness reaching shadowy, skeletal finger towards him, grasping, clawing, dragging him into a spiraling abyss of despair and hopelessness. The other way threw him into the rising and falling tide of bone-jarring, mind-numbing pain that was wracking his entire body, the discomfort of heat and being weighted down, shoved against the lumpy mass beneath his battered body. He splintered and reformed seemingly at random, disjointed thoughts swirling through his fogged mind of love and peace, spiders and butterflies, regret and joy, pain and comfort, laughter and tears. He screamed and knew that no one could hear it. He thought perhaps he was dead, yet part of him scoffed, knowing that death was not possible, not when so much pain assailed him from every direction. His body ached, his mind trembled, and his soul wept. No, he decided mutely, the thought strangely echoing in the darkness consuming him. I can't be dead. The dead can't feel.
 
 



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