Stories of my Existence

Dreams

Hey!! So, this story is a bit weird, but that's cuz it is an actual dream I had! So, yeah. it is weirder for me. =P

The night was dark. There was no moon, and the few stars seemed to fade and brighten, not in a cheerful twinkling but in a foreboding, sorrowful movement. The wagon we were laying under creaked in the gentle wind, the rotting wood moving slightly as the stale, musty air tried it's hardest to push it over. I turned to my friend, Skulchin, and smiled grimly.

We were the hunters, the assassins. We had been sent, Araquin and Skulchin, to stop what was going to happen. It was strange, really, to think that we were assassins, and yet we had been sent to kill another assassin. We were killing one of our own. But then, he was not one of our own. He was an enemy, someone to be destroyed. He was the one who would make us lose the war.

Or, at least, he had made us lose the war. Not anymore. Our job was to kill him, to stop him from achieving his mission. His mission, to kill our best leader. To kill an honorable soldier, winning the war by destroying our leader. It was sad when I thought about it. If there had been no war we would have probably been allies with this man we now had to kill. We would probably have worked together. We wouldn't have to kill him.

But then, wars make enemies. We had no choice. That was our mission. To go back in time, and change history. We had lost the war, all because this man had achieved his goal. He had come in the night, sliding around the corner of the small brick house and slipping into the shadows, waiting. Then, our greatest leader, at home for a week to spend with his wife and son had finished his dinner, and taken the garbage out. That had been his downfall. As he moved into the square of light cast from the window the assassin had struck, shooting him clean through the heart before melting away, never to be found again.

We lost the war, all because of him. And that was what we were here to change. I was only a baby when he killed the man,  but I knew the story as well as I knew my name. We had studied the assassin's tactics for years, hiding from the new government. The new government, set up when we lost the war, was cruel and uncaring. Uncaring that the people were starving, uncaring that they were failing at everything a government was supposed to do. And they still didn't care.

And now, here we were. Thirteenth years had passed as we hid, studying every move of the assassin. Studying, and learning. We had devoted our minds to the cause, swearing to change history and to make the world as it was before the war, to make it happy and peaceful. To make it not just survive, but make it thrive. As we worked out attempts had gone better and better, until one day we had what we needed. A time machine. And, with the new time machine, Skulchin and I had gone back to stop this man, and to stop the war.

I leaned over to whisper to Skulchin, keeping my voice so low I could barely hear it myself. "Let's review the plan one more time, just in case."

He sighs. We had already gone over the plan a few times, but it never hurt to be prepared. And it gave us something to do. I leaned forward to see the map of the simple farmhouse that was stretched in the soft dirt under the wagon. "So," I whisper, raising my voice a fraction so Skulchin can hear me better. "He will come around this corner of the house, wait here, and then move over here when his target comes out." I pointed at the points in the map as I whispered, and Skulchin nodded slowly. We both had this so firmly imprinted on our minds that we would never forget it, but I wanted to go over it again. I guess that's part of being a girl, always wanting to make sure of everything one last time.

Then I heard it. It chilled my blood, freezing my heart with a cold dread. "Oh am I now?" I turned my head to see the speaker, seeing the face that I so dreaded to see. It was him. I wondered why he had come in a different way this time, then I had it. When we had travelled back in time we must have messed something up. We had failed. His face was not what I expected, even though I had seen it so many times in the pictures. I thought it would be menacing and evil. It was not. He was smiling softly, a sad, deep smile. He would have been handsome, with his short blonde hair and bright green eyes. But then, we were enemies. Enemies weren't handsome. It was a pity, I thought. He would have been an amazing friend. I could tell by looking in his eyes that he had no idea what suffering he would cause, he truly believed that he was doing the right thing.

I heard a loud bang, and felt a sudden pain in my head. Then it was gone. I was gone. I had failed.

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I felt a hard pain in my throat as I saw her body fall limp onto the grass. I hadn't wanted to kill the girl. She seemed like she would be a good person, like she would care about what happened. She was truly beautiful, with her short black hair and sparkling black eyes. I would have liked to know her. I head a strangled cry from the boy, as he gasped and knelt over her body. "Araquin!" he choked. That must have been her name. Araquin. A good name, a warriors name. I stood abruptly, the tall grass I had been lying in coming almost to my knees. I had made a mistake in shooting the girl, now my target would not come out of his house. I had failed, for the first time in my life. I failed a second time that day.

As I stood the boy looked up, his face in an agony of pain. "You killed her. Now I'll finish our mission." he said, pulling twin pistols from his pockets, holding one in each hand. I crouched in the tall grass and began to run, knowing as I did that I shouldn't have stood up, and knowing that I would never be fast enough. I felt the bullets as they hit me, feeling time slow down as I absorbed the lead into my back.

     One.

I remembered the girl's face. Her midnight black eyes. Her short black hair.

   Two.

I remembered her name. Araquin. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

   Three.

I remembered the boy's face. He too had short black hair and black eyes, exactly like the girl but somehow very different.

   Four.

I remembered my mission, and my failures. I hadn't wanted to fight in this war, but I had to, in order to survive.

   Five.

I remembered my trainer, the man who had taught me to be so good at what I did. He was dead. He died in a fire.

   Six.

  I remembered my commander, the man who sent me on this mission. He would be furious. But I didn't care.

  Seven.

I remembered my father. He had beaten me, delighting in my pain, laughing at my blood.

  Eight.

I felt myself falling. I felt my body hit the ground. I felt nothing. I was dead. I had failed.

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I watched as the assassin's body hit the ground. I had killed him. I knelt beside the body of my best friend. She was dead. He had killed her. I smiled softly through my tears. I knew she would approve. She had sacrificed herself, but we had achieved our goal. The assassin was dead. His target was safe.

  "Araquin." Her name sounded strange in my lips, as if it was a part of something that no longer existed. I knew it wouldn't be safe to stay here, I had to get away before the police came. But I couldn't leave her. I knew what she would say if she was still alive. She would tell me to go, tell me that my life mattered more than hers. I knelt beside her body for a few minutes, seeing her lifeless form slumped on the ground, with a hole in her head where the bullet had pierced. I couldn't leave her, but I couldn't stay.

   I gently picked her up, moving her over to the wall of the house. I leaned her against the wall, knowing that the police would find her when they came. They would bury her, with a proper funeral. I held her hand for one last time, then whispered goodbye and stood up. I had to go. it wasn't safe here. I started to run, keeping to the shadows at the side of the house. I had to get to the time machine, to get back to my time. We had left the time machine in the woods around back of the house. I never made it.

   As I rounded the corner of the house I stopped. There was evil in this place. Evil, so strong I could feel it. I could feel the shadows moving, the darkness closing in. I drew my knife, preparing for the battle. There was no battle. There was only death. Death, by the rabid, demonic cat that had crept through the shadows, leaping on my shoulder and piercing my throat with its sharp, evil teeth. I was dead before I hit the ground.