Alright. So my goal for ah…last week… was to write a first person narrative done in past tense. First person is something I struggle with, so this was a challenge, but 1,417 words later, and I have the beginnings of a little somethin’ somethin’. Decided to take a break my dweeby fanfiction and decided to roll with an idea from a failed rp that never took place. But! It was an idea, and I decided to focus on my would-be character, Ansui Annen. The entire concept revolved around angels and demons in an everlasting war with each other. When humans died, they would become either an angel or a demon, depending on how they lived their lives. They were granted immortality unless killed with malicious intent. Basically, starvation, sickness, and old age couldn’t kill an angel or a demon. When a human dies and becomes either an angel or demon, they are given the chance to sacrifice a part of themselves for a weapon to defend themselves, which is pretty damn important considering they “spawn” right into the middle of a war. The greater the sacrifice, the greater the weapon. This is the beginning of Ansui’s story.
I hadn’t been expecting to die that day. Not that soon. I knew my lifestyle would probably lead to a young death, but I hadn’t been anticipating this. I was later told that most people who die go into denial—especially if they come back as demons—but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I had had my throat sliced open. There was no fuckin’ denyin’ it, I guess. If my fiance hadn’t acquired all of those debts for our addictions, I’d still be alive. We were going to make it…we just needed more time. But it was too little, too late. I had been kidnapped, and anticipating foul play, they got rid of the one thing that they had that would entice him to pay up: me. It didn’t work though. He just didn’t have it, and they weren’t waiting. Hell, wonder what he’s going through now.
I found myself in a long, white hallway. The light was obnoxiously bright, and I could see a black door, stark against the light on the far side. So I walked. I walked for what felt like a year. The blood that had spilled down my favorite leather jacket and soaked the white wife beater I had been wearing started to fade as I progressed down the hallway to the door. With each echoing step, I could feel a tingling on the thin line across my neck. My wound was fading with the blood. By the time I reached the door, the aching cut had become what felt like a faint scar across my throat.
Behind the door, I saw what looked to be a waiting room. Lining the walls were chairs, with a shelf stocked with magazines that were who knows how old in almost every language. On one end, there was a desk with a fairly handsome man with a too-cocky-for-my-taste grin plastered on his face. On either side of the desk were two doors, one white, one black. There were others like me, probably fresh from their own stupidly long hallways. Some of them looked scared, fewer looked relieved. The look of relief vanished for the latter when their names were called. The asswipe behind the counter would direct them through either of the doors, and what happened after that was anyone’s guess at the time.
“Annen, Ansui.” That was my last name, followed by my first. Sounded too formal for my taste, but then, this was the after-life. Not like I had any say in it. I tried to keep my face calm and collected. The dick wasn’t gonna get to relish any fear from me. After all, I died a pretty terrible death, it wasn’t like passing through a door at this point could phase me. They could throw whatever shit they wanted to at me. He directed me to the black door. The cocky son of a bitch smirked as I went. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised by either of these things.
I went through the door and found myself in what would have been a dark room if it wasn’t for the bright ass light shining down on me. After my eyes adjusted, I could see that I was being watched through a two-sided glass, like the kinda shit you would see on Law and Order. At least, I assumed I was. I couldn’t see anything but the glare from the light being showered onto me. If there was one thing I fuckin’ hated, it was being scrutinized. I squirmed under the light for what felt like ages, waiting for something to happen, someone to say something. Judge me. Whatever. I just wanted it over. Finally, a door that had escaped my attention opened and a kind looking lady smiled at me.
“Ms. Ansui, welcome. You’re the newest to the demon realm,” the kind lady said. She looked fake. Not like Barbie fake, but like, porcelain fake. I didn’t think she was capable of not smiling. “My name is Anita Wakahisa, and I’ll be your guide for a short time.”
“Demon? I’m a demon? Didn’t think that that was how that worked,” I didn’t know what else to say, and I figured getting some sort of information would probably be a good thing.
“Not how you think it does. You are granted immortality to an extent as of now–”
“To an extent?” I cocked an eyebrow.
“Yes, to an extent.” Her reply was patient, despite my obvious distaste for the situation. She had probably dealt with several others like me. “You will never age, get sick, or starve. You no longer need to. However, death by malicious intent will remove you from this world.”
“And then you are no more. More souls will take your place, and the world will keep going. The angels and demons will continue to slay each other, mortals die and take their place, and new souls are created, filling the place of the mortals. Think of it as a circle.” Anita’s hands were placed flat against each other, and I had just now noticed that she was wearing a kimono. Her “skin” glinted off of the light that was raining down on me. She looked like a Japanese doll. That’s what she was. But alive. Fuckin’ creepy, despite how beautiful she was.
“So. You’re telling me that I have the potential to be murdered. Again.” This new world was bullshit.
“Precisely. But you have the chance to defend yourself.”
I find myself cocking an eyebrow at her again, urging her to go on. She actually had my attention now, as if she didn’t before. How could I do anything but pay attention to her?
“You can choose to sacrifice something in order to receive a weapon. The greater the sacrifice, the better the weapon.”
“Sacrifice? What, you mean like… a fuckin’ goat or something?”
“Part of yourself.”
I blinked. Part of me? Did she mean, like, an arm or a leg? She must have seen my confusion because she immediately answered my question.
“It could be anything. It could be a part of your body, but as your body is now in pique physical condition, a sacrifice such as a finger would maybe get you a small weapon at best.” She stepped into the light, and her kimono fell to the floor, revealing herself completely to me. With the exception of a belt around her waist containing a sheath, she was stark ass naked with every inch of her gleaming in the light. I fidgeted. She was beautiful, yes, but seeing as how I didn’t bat that way, it made me fairly uncomfortable. “I was an actress in my former life. It was my everything. It was a way for me to escape. I decided to give up my ability to act in order to survive. As a result, I am no longer able to move as I once had, and my face is no longer able to convey any emotion save the one you currently see. My skin was changed to porcelain, and my movements are limited to that of a doll’s. This changes when I have this–”
With that, she drew what was hanging around her waist, revealing a long katana. Her skin stopped shimmering, and her face became fierce. She was now one daring someone to mess with her. “This is Fumetsu, the weapon I received by sacrificing my inner-most being. It is because of my sacrifice that I am still alive.” She sheathed her weapon, and her skin returned to the porcelain that it had been before. “Fumetsu has slain many angels, and prevented my death for well over three hundred years.” I blinked. “It’s now your turn to decide if and what you will sacrifice to stay alive. You have ten minutes.”
**Note: This would be in a larger work, and a whole chapter would be dedicated to this first paragraph. You know, memories and that shit. Seriously considering working on this some more.**
I fidgeted, and she stared, unblinking. Waiting. I was now in a place that Seth would not be in for a long time. If ever. He would move on, finding some other woman who would deal with his shit. I loved him. I loved him with every fiber of my being. I could remember holding hands while we walked downtown under the city lights, watching late night movies, getting in the ring together. He and I had had something, and I had believed he would pull through. For me. I was wrong, and my throat had been sliced through like a ham on Easter. I wasn’t about to let that shit happen again.
“Love. I will sacrifice my ability to love,” I said. I wished she could convey emotion, but her shocked silence was more than enough. I smirked.