Chibi-X-Kurai

 Arthur had many expectations in his life. He expected it to be dreary and rainy in his country; for the skies to be clouded with unfriendly gray clouds. He expected to be easily annoyed by others--More often than not, by Alfred or Francis. He expected to find solace in his daily cup of Earl Grey and rock set to a soothingly low volume. He expected Anya to pull a prank on him whenever she got the chance; and expected a laugh each time. So when his birthday rolled around, he had been expecting her worst. However, Anya surprised him. This year, she came to him calmly, smiling with an unimpressive white box in her arm.  she had han

 It had been a dream, yet it felt like more.   Anya couldn't explain it--She didn't believe something like that came with an explanation. So she did what any little sister would do and tentatively eased into asking Arthur a very difficult question one day over tea at his house. "Arthur...Where do we come from?" He had looked up from his cup of tea with a bewildered expression; emerald eyes wide with shock.  It was nearly the same as being asked where babies came from. "What?" he finally managed, attempting to regain his composure. "You heard me." Anya stated firmly, "I asked where we came from, us countries.  We have no mothers, n

A fence. When Kurai stopped and thought about it, her life had always been lived surrounded by a fence.  A barrier spiked and charged and too precariously tall for her to safely climb over anyway.   She wasn't sure when she'd first noticed this fence around her life. Perhaps when she was little, when she hadn't been allowed to go outside to play with the other little kids or leave her backyard when she did go outside. When had she first been allowed outside the fence? She could remember it clearly.   She had been laying on the warm stones in the garden when she heard oddly tapping shoes passing by.  Curious, she had gotten up and crept

I could still hear.  While all of my other senses were numbed, my hearing was still as sharp as ever. My eyes were open, but I couldn't tell if I was searching for something or someone; the lights above me were dulling and everything solid was becoming a figureless shadow. I could hear machinery beeping.  I could also hear something erratic and frail—the heart monitor, my pulse, I realized.  With grim certainty, I knew I was dying.  I felt a moment of detached panic before picking up on something else. I could hear him, the love of my now-fading life, pleading with the doctors and nurses to let him see me.  How strange.  He's usual