mishka's diary || wandering angel

[Angel]

wednesday || 10:07 a.m. || a lovely morning

I didn't expect to see so many kind people in the roads today. I had set out at dawn, wanting to get some quiet walking in before the well traveled routes became polluted with convoys and various individuals going from A to B. There were three different occasions of me passing by groups of children to receive joyous smiles accompanied by enthusiastic waves. They looked like genuinely sweet kids--I'm sure their parents have raised them well.

On two other occasions men I passed by offered smiles my way. I returned them, of course. The men were farmers, I believe--civilians on their way to a market, maybe. I am not accustomed to being greeted so cheerfully by so many people within the same few hour time span. It was different but nonetheless refreshing. If more people were so courteous to strangers, perhaps we wouldn't be in the middle of such dark times among the villages.

On that note, my dreams have been rather dark as of late. I do suppose it'd be more accurate to call them nightmares, but it matters little. The images I've been seeing in my sleep are, for the most part, about Kai. I see him being tortured repeatedly--always under the menacing, fatally strong grip of Yori. He is torn apart, ripped to pieces in slow agony, crying out in pain while I do nothing to help him.

He stands before me yet I cannot move. I can never help him no matter how many times the scene repeats itself. There are variations, of course. Sometimes his arms are chopped off, sometimes his eyes are pulled or carved from their sockets, occasionally his innards are cut up via an aggressively wielded kunai. Only rarely do I not hear his screams. And though there is that odd silence in the dream, I cannot help but gaze into his tear-filled eyes as the hope and light fade from them.

These scenes often end the same way: with Yori reenacting what he'd done years prior. I awake trembling and strangely cold each time, and on some mornings I can faintly feel the sensations on my skin of where he'd kept me in his iron hold. I cry only to the birds and squirrels in the trees.

This morning I awoke chilled but the light on the horizon soon grew brighter and became a warm beacon of joy. I have much enjoyed my time spent ambling today and can only hope with great optimism that the remainder of the day fairs just as well.

[Angel]

thursday || 9:47 p.m. || butterflies

The roads have been relatively clear today. I walked for about five hours to the east, enjoying the scenery and tranquil calm of the plains. I am assuming the deserts approach soon, as there is a lack of traffic in this area and the winds have picked up.

Accompanied by sunny, blue skies, I happened upon a small civilian village during my walk. This place, I learned from a local, was called Keisho Village. The population was, tops, approximately 120 people. Still, it was peaceful and I was met by happy, cheerful expressions and waves. Strangers here are not unlike those of the more willing, open caliber I've met previously. It is always nice to happen across such individuals.

As I ambled through the center of town I was approached by a young girl. She said she'd lost her pet cat as a result of leaving the front gate of her yard open. Kagura, she said her name was, seemed rather distraught. I noticed her mother outside behind her, attending to their garden. "Do you like butterflies?" I asked her. She nodded eagerly and said, "They're my favorite. Next to Whiskers, that is."

I smiled and formed a small butterfly using my crystal. It was lightweight and intricate--I formed the most beautiful detail in the wing patterns. The wings were transparent--given color by the prism effect of the sun's light. Kagura looked beyond delighted upon receiving my little gift in her small, pale hands. She grinned up at me and thanked me before running off to her mother and showing her the item.

I'm sure the mother would have thanked me herself, but I did not stick around to hear it. I went on my way, walking through the remainder of the town. Spicy noodles sounded delicious, and I was smart to get to the nearest shop before the lunch-bound working crowd sailed in.

I gained a lovely spot at the shop, enjoying a window seat as I downed the noodles. I was greeted by a young man about my age. He was blonde with bright blue eyes and a sincere smile. He sat down and spoke with me for a bit. It was nice, really. The only thing that bothered me was his stare--I felt like he could see right through me. Mind you, I never told a single lie during that conversation, but the intensity of his gaze made me wonder if I was doing or saying something wrong.

It was when I turned in my seat to wave over one of the workers for a second order (dessert) that I felt his eyes move away from my face and linger on my back. The scars. It wasn't so convenient that I'd chosen to wear a backless black dress today. I expected him to ask about them, those jagged lines marring my otherwise beautiful skin.

He didn't ask. And I didn't tell. I ate in silence for awhile, feeling awkward. After a few minutes I was surprised to see the man across from me order something, too. He planned to stay a while, he said.

I nodded. We enjoyed each other's company and the casual conversation that followed the meal for a great while. I left the village that night before dark, promising to return sometime soon. And I really meant it. The butterflies in my stomach wouldn't let me forget it.

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[Angel]

saturday || 4:12 a.m. || whispers

It happened again. That nightmare.

It was dark. When I first opened my eyes I saw nothing but a pitch abyss. No light, no sound. I am accustomed to waking to the sounds of birds at dawn, the gentle light of the sun on the horizon, the scent of nature as I sit up in the branch of a tree along the road. Here there was absolutely nothing, and I was instantly terrified.

I am not afraid of the dark. I don't jump or scream when I hear things go bump in the night. What I fear is not a thing--it is a person. Though by comparison it is not too far a stretch to call him a monster.

He'd seen me at my worst, and I prayed every night since leaving the hospital that he'd never see me at my best. Why? Because he'd learn of my joy--he'd then, in turn, find some new sadistic way to destroy it. Kai had been my joy before--my light, my love. Yori shattered that happiness, and much of Kai in the process.

This night he came to me as I slept. Even with so much time having passed between those three hellish weeks and now, his presence invades my mind while I slumber just as often as it does when I'm conscious. He is an ever-present nightmare. He is the kind of nightmare that lingers like a foreboding shadow, one that chills you to the bone and makes your heart race if you dare to confront it. A paralyzing fear.

I was motionless in this darkness, but not because I wanted to be. I began this nightmare alone and isolated, unable to move save for the sporadic, panicked movements of my eyes as I tried to peer through the abyss and see what was nearby. It took about a minute, or what felt as such, for me to discern a familiar shape: bars. Metal bars. Bars they used in...prison cells. My mind flipped a switch and suddenly someone else did, too, because as my memories flooded in like an intrusive, vicious tiger there was a sudden light. I couldn't tell where it was coming from, exactly, but this mattered little.

I felt like I was back in that cell again, only Kai wasn't around. It was just me. A few seconds passed, however, and the source of my fear sauntered in like a lion moving in on a fresh kill. I wasn't dead yet--but like all the other dreams he'd make sure I'd wish I was before I woke up. And like some twisted, inescapable shadow he approached. I, unable to run with barely any strength to move, could only gaze at him with wide eyes. I heard the door to the cell shut. I turned away. He knelt beside me and forced me to look upon him with a vice-like grip on my jaw. I pressed my back to the chilled stone wall, wishing myself to any other place but here. I tried not to look directly at the man, perhaps zone out into some safe haven within the depths of my own mind.

The only thing I succeeded in doing was look even more petrified. Yori responded with an amused chuckle and spoke in whispers. His purrs and growls of an almost animal nature floated over my body like silk, exciting me but also horrifying the sensible part of my mind that was still paying attention to the present situation. I felt cold. I felt shame. But most of all I felt fear. This nightmare was one I had at least twice a week, sometimes more. I knew how it would end far before it ever really began. And though I knew what would happen I could never stop it. It repeated like a cursed record, skipping every now and then to some lesser horror but otherwise remaining on the same terrifying beat.

He re-enacted those few weeks with me. The pain renewed itself each time he took his precious prize, as if my body saw fit to renew its state to just prior to the assault whenever he approached the cell for another go. Such is the substance of my nightmares.

And though I woke up in a cold sweat, trembling and with a pounding heart, I did what I would always do after the initial pain and fright faded away.

I smiled. I smiled because it wasn't real. I believe my biggest fear is that one day that nightmare will repeat itself...and I won't wake up.