Under the Influence
#6 of Be My Bad Boy
Under the influence
Page by page, moment by moment, I have changed into who stands before you. And yet, I always feel I will wake up suddenly; in a fit of both joy and sadness, all the world will end. Storms gather and the earth collide, I save myself in this dream. Strength beyond that of anyone is held in him. Shadow, thank you.
As the weeks moved, I felt my strength return. The wounds continue to heal, the pain seems less real, and all the bitterness has been erased. If Shadow had any other choice, he would have taken it. However, Tails had finally gone over the edge. It is all my fault, not Shadow's neglect or his action of physically pulling the trigger. I am the catalyst, if only I had not . . .
I slowly stood up and took the bleeding white rose in my hand. I twiddled it in my hand, ever so gracefully; yet, the spikes cut through my soft hands. Efface my memories, pain, come and take it all away.
The blood was thin, a sign of my weakness. Tormented and defeated, Tails sent me to the bottom. Those two have forced me even further below. I have surely gone under zero. I am dying again.....
"Help me . . ."
A hand, a warmth caresses my face. Him. I press my face against it. I push into it, and it goes away. Cold, I press against a source of warmth. I find the heated life, and push myself into him. His arms surround me, and the arms hold me close. The arms, my castle. His heart, it beats, and I know I have buried myself in his chest. His heart, my sky....
My troubles, under the touch, they melt away. My worries, they flee from my memory. My eyes tear in the clarity. I cry. I breath. I am made real.
The night engulfs me, but his warmth lights the way. He is my life as I was for Tails. This is how Tails felt. Now, I can see. Tails, his love was infinite, and he feel into despair as I was just moments ago. No, mine was different. I was but sorrow. I am....happy. My soul rekindled, my will alive. I cried, this one of the dark wiped away my tears. I scream, he fights away all of my tears.
"Save me," I plead. I can only want and need. He can only give and care.
Wetness falls on me. I realize he has cried for me. I feel terrible. "I am better, Shadow." The words escape my lips and his quiet sobs stop. His heart leaps in his chest.
"My heart beats stronger now, now your by my side... But please, hold me tight." Again, I feel myself becoming artistic. My wings, the burden of death, sorrow, it wall vanishes as my mind liberates itself. I can feel myself flying into himself.
And then, it happens. That which must inevitably happen. My eyes opened. The bright, warm sun let its golden rays fall over me. I take in the strong scent of sex and love. I had that nightmare again. I sat up and his cradling arms released me, falling to the side. I shouldn't bother him. My love of loves. How can I even think of anyone but you?
The question was silly. This love is my only desire, and all that was dreamt was but a mere dream. A figment of my over active imagination. But what a dream it was, a little dreary and sad. Long I suppose, but to take over the time of weeks, it was short. The house was just as in my dream. My works still hung on the wall. The chairs were as I could recall. Everything was set perfectly.
I took to the kitchen. Quickly, I began to fry two eggs. Hopefully, he would not be hungry today. I did not feel like cooking all morning. However, things rarely change now. On cue, my love walked into the kitchen. He sat at the table and gave me a loving, lazy look. Things were crazy in that dream. Things I would rather not conjure in a sleep. Sad, in almost every respect. I suppose, however, it is fair not to forget I am merely under the influence of my saving grace, Shadow.
The End.
A/n: This story is dedicated to my cat. (Seen in chapter one. Lucky prick got to make out with Shadow.) This ending wasn't as rushed as the final appears. This took a lot of tossing ideas around, and the hardest part was ending it. I decided mainly to end it here, cause it is positive and gives me a WAFF. (Warm and Fuzzy Feeling for those who don't know.) I would love reviews because I want to know if people liked this idea of an ending of if they felt cheated. (And yes, I can understand the latter. I tried not to, but I was afraid of giving away too much. The longer I go, the more likely I will make a mistake.) This is my second finished story, and the next should be set me free. Which will be ending in approx. 1 chapter also. Um, thank you to all my readers. I dedicate this to my cat who has fallen ill today. (He is the catalyst for the overly semi-poetic start) Maybe I should not write while "emo." Eh, who gives a damn. To Shadow: Sorry if this falls short of your expectations. However, I am not continuing, but I would love to thank you for your review. It is the reason I continued with Chapter five. And, I would love to hear your thoughts on this ending especially. Should be interesting. Well, I must depart now. Good night.
Letter from the Editor
C. L. Boothe takes the reader from the first fluttering of love to the deepest pits of madness and back through his poetic style. In all of his stories, the reader undergoes a certain amount of reverie as they traverse the twists and slights of language which come so easily to this up and coming writer and manage to transcend the sometimes atrocious grammar and spelling of the first drafts.
"Be My Bad Boy" was an especially emotional ride for the vigilant reader as the original ending was thought to be the hopeless Chapter 4. Its graceful depiction of suicide left a haunted feeling of emptiness. Boothe, in his eagerness to start a new project, had forgotten the ultimate goal of writing: leave the reader feeling like they got the full value of the story. However, redemption was at hand with the release of Chapter 5, a redemption which reached its full promise in Chapter 6. Now, the world, the microcosm of the Sonic universe we have come to love, is truly complete.
Fan fiction is currently treated like the retarded step-child of literature. Opponents argue it is plagiarism on crack and reflects a lack of creativity on the part of the writer. However, the opponents are often those who will make money from the sale of the original series. If another writer outdoes what they are capable of, then they will lose money. Such greed is the primary reasons fan fiction is quashed. Another reason is the over-inflated egos of many writers. They cannot see the natural extensions of what they have written and have no wish to share their brilliant idea with anyone who could execute it better than they could. To admit such would be to admit the ugly faults within themselves and to acknowledge to rough hewn edges of their precious work. Both greed and pride allow for the abuses of freedom of speech common in copyright lawsuits. By claiming 'ownership' of something very clearly put in the domain of the public, they are able to stifle an uprising of talent from making money at what they so love to do. Out of frustration and a sense of uselessness, many fan fiction writers quit and move to more 'respectable' forms or stop writing altogether. They fall into the very trap they were supposed to fall into.
Greed and pride also lead to the negative perception of fan fiction writers by academia. Academia, based on the concept of the individual within a movement, cannot acknowledge the medley of different styles and perceptions shown in fan fiction since it would interrupt the cleanness of a Medieval system they are so unwilling to change. If fan fiction were allowed, it would break the snobbery of the apprenticeship they attempt to impose on the body of literature through MFA programs. They would become quickly overrun and crushed by the ill supported structure under which they stand.
Writing fan fiction affords the writer the chance to write brilliantly with limited world building so that more time is spent on crafting each sentence to achieve the maximum effect. By not concentrating on world building and character creation, true artistry can be achieved in the writing. A Renaissance example of such is Michelangelo. He did not have to worry about building the Sistine Chapel from the ground up to paint his work on. Nor did he have to worry about the cast of his art since the figures were already described in the Bible. All he had to do was truly bring the extant Biblical characters to life by using his uncanny sense of interpretation. If Michelangelo had concentrated primarily on synthesizing his own characters, then his name would likely not be nearly as famous as it is today.
Also, by using commonly known characters, the work becomes more universal. The reader has to spend less time learning about idiosyncratic characters. Instead, they can jump directly into appreciation of the work. Through a large amount of reading, a reader can come to truly know every facet of their favorite character as they go into different situations.
Writers of fan fiction also give readers a fresh new look into the worlds they have already come to love. The original creator of the series often becomes so entrenched in his characters that he fails to see the delightful twists and turns waiting to be made. Thus, the world is held bound by the narrowness of his imaginations. Lovers of the series will see their love trapped in the grasp of a dictator. With the swords of their pens and the shields of their keyboards, fans ride on the galloping horse of the Internet to spread the story as the young creator would likely re-invent it if he wasn't so myopic from aging with the tale.
Original creators also often have budgeting and approval problems. Typically, they have to work their way through a studio which taints their vision with editing before it reaches the world. Information which may be important to the creator and his viewers could be shunned by a cold editor as unnecessary. Also, the problem of censorship comes in at higher levels. What corporations approve of as "safe" for the viewing audience often leaves gaping holes in characters and turns them into two dimensional figures. They are not allowed to act like real people since such is often perceived as being 'vulgar.' Writers of fan fiction are often able to instill the passion often excised from the work. Through their own interpretive power, they often yield the scenarios the viewer desired all along.
When historians look back at our new era of computer communication, they will likely find that some of the best writers of our time started out writing fan fiction. I dare to propose that C. L. Boothe will be one of the great writers. As long as we readers continue to offer our support, the opportunities are boundless for this new voice. I do believe in you, C. L. I do.
Beta