Okay, before you start reading, I would really appreciate it if you guys took your time to read these small author notes I'll leave throughout the story
This is the story I posted on another site called Quotev!!
http://www.quotev.com
Feel free to check the story out there!!
http://www.quotev.com/story/5623812/Imagination-Is-Everything/
And by the way, the things written here are copied and pasted from the original story on Quotev. So you guys don't get confused by the author's notes and stuff
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The last thing I remembered before my eyes closed for what seemed to be the very last time was the feeling of being pummeled a hundred feet into the ground.
The last thing I saw before my world slowly faded from grey to pitch black, was red. Red everywhere. I remembered the smoke that filled my lungs, the screams that filled my ears and the horror show that almost made my eyes bleed.
The last thing I heard, before all I heard was a sharp, high pitched buzzing, were the awful sounds of war, the screams for mercy, the begging for help, the cry of lost hope and the mourning of a fallen race, city and world.
And the last thing that escaped my bruised, bloodied and chapped lips were the two words "Damn you."
But what I thought would be my last time, my last breath and my last words, they were only the beginning.
. . .
For some bizarre reason, I could see, hear, speak and feel just fine. Heck, I felt even better than before the chaos started back home. I was perfectly fine. I woke up just like that, laying in a thick layer of snow, freezing my butt off. I sprang up to my feet, shaking off the excess snow that was left caught in my fur. I looked around and frowned. A vast land of an endless blanket of white stared back at me. I had small fragments of my memories, but I couldn't recall a time when I would go somewhere with anything related to the cold voluntarily. You'd have better luck winning the lottery than trying to drag me to an ice land.
Still curious, I thumped the ground twice with my fur-covered foot, just to see something familiar form on the snow-covered ground. I jumped in, thankful to be away from the dreadful cold that was starting to creep into my bones, despite the thick fur I had.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, seeing dirt and roots of plants rush by me as I tried to get somewhere warmer, putting more and more distance between me and the snow-covered land.
I finally popped out of the other end of my tunnel, having the fresh smell of spring greet me. It was night time, and I was in a meadow. And from what I could survey, there wasn't a single living, breathing soul for miles, except for some forest animals. Despite it being night time, the meadow was full of life, practically glowing from the soft light emitted by the moon.
Speaking of the moon, there he was; surrounded by a galaxy of stars, looking down at the world. Where I was originally from, we couldn't see the moon. But every time I came back, I would see him there, motionless, but always seemingly alive. I wonder if I can still talk to him.
"Mr. Moonie, ya up there?"
It's been quite a while since I've last spoken to him. It was because of him that I had gotten an earlier warning of the attack. But even if we didn't have any early acknowledgements of his intentions, we still could've lost due to the outnumbered troops and warriors of our land.
We would still fall.
Way to be a sadistic pessimist, Ammo.
"How am I still alive, Moonie?" I asked, frowning. I waited, staring up intently at the moon, waiting for an answer. But none ever came. "Manny, please answer me." He still didn't say a word. "Manny, I'm serious."
I tried over and over again in frustration. He used to talk to me all the time, when I was sad or when I was just plain lonely. But why wouldn't he talk to me now? He just stared down at me, and with what looked like a sad smile, spread across his empty face. "Manny, you've got to tell me something, y'know," I growled, my Brooklyn accent kicking in.
But still nothing.
A sudden gust of wind hit the meadow, rustling the flowers and the tall grass. It ruffled through my fur, the fresh breeze calming my nerves a bit. I stayed silent while the wind continued to howl in the night. I sighed. "Manny, please. Tell me something at least," I pleaded. But he still wouldn't tell me. No voice, no sound, no sign, no nothing.
Until I looked down.
And right there, beside my foot. was an old tree stump that I swore was never there in the first place. Crouching down, I gently brushed away the long grass that was covering the gold, cursive wordings engraved onto the rough surface.
'Nursery Rhyme Annie'
Beside the stump were a cloak, keys and an earring.
Flustered and left with even more questions than I originally had, I murmured "Manny, this isn't making anything better." I looked up at him, the soft glow illuminating the land.
"Why won't ya tell me anything, Manny?" Silence hung thick and heavy in the air, chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs filled the empty silence. "Am I supposed to find this 'Nursery Rhyme Annie'?"
"No, child," he finally spoke. "
"You're Nursery Rhyme Annie."
"..."
I'm Nursery Rhyme Annie?
Realization hit me hard. I didn't even know my own name until Manny told me. Where were my memories? Why couldn't I remember? I tried hard, but it was like my memories had locked themselves away in parts of my brain that not even I could access. And that was a shame, since it was my brain. I had a right to access everything in my mind, didn't I?
So why was I only allowed the few moments before I died in that awful ambush?
Hundreds, thousands and millions of question flooded my mind. I wanted so badly to ask, but I know they wouldn't be answered. Manny had a thing for the 'finding yourself' ritual, like what he said to me back when we would chat regularly.
After the questions had finally settled down and subsided into my mind, I looked up at him and said "Whatever ya do has a purpose, Manny. I guess that means that I have a purpose to fulfill 'ere too." The wind blew stronger.
"I may not know what it is, I don't even have a clue on where I should start or what I should be doing. But whatever it is, I'll try to make ya proud, Manny."
The wind howled for one last time before it subsided into a gentle breeze.
Guess it was time for me to 'find myself', as Manny had put it.
"G'bye, Manny. Wish me luck." And with that, I grabbed the stuff and jumped down the hole, a soft "Good luck, my child," faded into the background, leaving the meadow in complete silence once again.
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I am so sorry if this is boring so far. But please stay tuned for the rest of the story. I promise, you won't be disappointed!
And hey, a few favourites and some advertising for my story won't kill anybody
And anyone notice that I used my name as her nickname for Man In Moon???
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