A story I'm writing featureing fourteen sections akin to the fourteen lines of a sonnet.

Part 1 or Intro:

Labellum's Lullaby

Can you hear the gunshots? Those loud bangs resonating through the large empty halls? Three of them, proceeded by a cry of pain. Of course you can hear it. Because the sound of a gunshot is distinct and unforgettable. But now it's become quiet save for heavy breathing. The man who is trying to catch his breath holds a knife in one hand, and a hand gun in the other, pointed at an older man with an empty revolver in his hands. The younger man stands over the still, slender figure of a woman, a pool of blood growing around her.
"Why?" the younger man asks, beads of sweat mixed with blood from a scrape on his forehead rolling down the side of his face. "Why did you do it?"
"Do what?" the older man inquired with a raised eyebrow, completely calm.
"Everything!" The younger of the two yelled, setting his jaw with anger burning in his firey blue eyes.
"It was all for your own good, my boy." That was the reply. But what had the man done? This is nearing the end of the story. To understand all that had happened, I have to take you back to the beginning. But the beginning is hard to find. For this story is a web of interlocking stories, some bigger than others. I suppose it all started on a dark night in July, on a nearly empty country highway.

Imagine darkness and silence. A silence suddenly broken by squealing tires, the crunch of metal against metal, shattering glass, and something hitting the hard ground. New imagine the feel of the hard, rough asphalt road under scraped skin. The smell of gasoline and exhaust fumes over the slight smell of blood. The asphalt under you seems to be wet, but it's not raining. Open your eyes. Slowly. Your vision is blurry and dark, but there's a flickering of light. Blink a few times, you can tell that the light is a car with it's engine caught on fire. Blink again, your vision is starting to clear just enough for you to see two tall, broad figures walking away from the wreck as if it wasn't even there. Only to black out again into the darkness and silence.

That is my first memory. That is the beginning. I was only thirteen, a life behind me I didn't remember. But I didn't even know my name. That is how everything started, at least that's how my story started. Though my story ended not long after it began, and though this story may begin with me and I play a part in it, it isn't about me. It's about what I never wanted, what I gained, and what I left behind. This story didn't end in happily ever after for me. But maybe the story will end in a happily ever after for those that make it to the end.

The end of this story, that takes place in a world much like your own. Cars, trucks, and motor cycles driving on asphalt rodes, cities of great sky scrapers where business men work in the cubicles wearing suites. Men in orange jumpsuits sit behind bars in high security jails, troubled teenagers show off the latest styles at schools, and small everybody-knows-everybody towns. But our world is smaller with only five continents. You have a north pole and south pole where no one lives except for scientists. The final three is where the planet's population is. The first and smallest is Lambda which consists of four countries in relative peace with one another. The continent is mostly desert with a mountain slitting it right down the middle and sits right at the equator. The next is Iota, slightly bigger than Lambda, and slightly south of the equator, it also has four countries, one big one and three smaller. This country consists mainly of mountains and forests with the occasional plain. The final continent, and biggest, is Omicron. Omicron is separated into two major countries, with five smaller ones. Including it's islands, it takes up nearly half the planet. And on this continent's landscape has a little of everything. Our story takes place on Omicron, in one of the bigger countries. The country of Primus, who is at war with Desimus.

And this story is about how that war ended. And maybe even how it began. It's a story about how nothing is coincidence.

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08