I was motivated by another writer to do this project. So here's my take on Marluxia before he was part of the Organization. And I really do mean before. This starts out when he was a little munchkin (as you'll be able to read soon) up until his late twenties (when he becomes an Organization member). There be at most 8 chapters. There will obviously be time jumps between each chapter. This first chapter is rather spacious because in my opinion he is too young to really feel anything more complex then what can be desribed in a few brief sentences. It also does not help that this is a very dialogue oriented chapter. Future chapters will be much more descriptive as he gets older. In each chapter there will be a mention of flowers, because really, he is identified by those the most; what is the important about them though is what the flowers MEAN. But I'll leave the different meaning(s) of the flowers up to your interpretations. I will update the next chapter in the next day or so (in this same thread) depending on the feedback I recieve if any at all. Thanks and enjoy. Chapter 1 The sound of muffled heels pacing up and down the halls echoes in the home. He hears knocks on his door accompanied by a voice of honey and care, "Ramiual! You have school!" Ramiual curls up into a tighter ball on his bed, blankets warping like a feathery cocoon around him. Even though it’s hot out, he holds a tight grip over the covers that make him sweat from the extra heat. Through the tangles of cotton he replies miserably back, "School is stupid!" He hears the door of his room open and feels the bed creak with his mother's weight as she sits on the edge of the mattress. She practically sings her admonishment to him, "Oh shush now, school isn't stupid!" He feels her rubbing his shoulders through the sheets that wrap around him, he clenches onto them tighter in case she tries to remove them. He knows that she’s done it before like the time he needed to visit his smothering aunts and uncles. He buries his face deeper into the plush covers just as he buries the lurching feeling in his tiny chest, "I don't wanna go to school." Ramiual feels the springs of his bed bob up and sink back down as his mother shifts her weight to embrace his concealed form. She coos to him in her characteristic playfulness, "Aww, is my little Rammy afraid of being away from mommy?" He recoils by pulling the covers impossibly tighter. "N-n-o-o-o! I'm not afraid! School is stupid!" She doesn't respond, but he knows that she is still there. He feels a cool hand curl under him and his shield of blankets. Ramiual hears her giggle mischievously as she drag-flips him over so that she is now half-cradling him, "Ohhhh...don't make me tickle monster you!" Ramiual feels her hands tickling him all over and he does his best not to laugh, "Ah, hahahahahahaha STOP IT MOM TSH-HAHAHAHAAHAAA!" He fails and before long he is a cackling mass of feebly flailing limbs. Amidst the epic struggle in which Ramiual is losing, she pauses long enough to happily chirp at his writing state, "The tickle monster attacks little boys who don't go to school!" The 'tickle monster' his mother so playfully calls is both a negotiator of mother-and-child bonder and a harmless demon for persuasion. The current state of the tickle monster at the moment was the latter of the two. Tears are streaming down Ramiual's blue eyes as the tickling torture continues. He finally realizes his losing battle and concedes to his mother's wishes, "HAHAHAHAA OK-OK!" He feels her hands leave him and she tells him the usual "well get ready slow-poke!" as she exits the room. He rolls off the bed tiredly and lands into his chaos of bed sheets. Ramiual stretches from where he lays and gets awkwardly onto his feet. He sees the pressed clothing sitting innocently on the monster of the dresser that sits in his room. He warily puts on the clothing and follows after her through the polished hallway to the kitchen. They meet up at the door in the kitchen and she helps him with his new shoes. She has to tie them because he doesn't know how to knot them properly yet. She tells him as they leave that she'll teach him the magic-knot trick when he gets home. His fear of school ebbs away at this prospect. The car slows down with a deathly gurgle. Ramiual opens the door and his mother guides him to the door that dwarfs his short form. "Good we're here. We were almost late.” He starts to walk through the open door but he feels something holding him back, "Oh wait Ramiual your shirt!" She twirls him around and she fusses over the extra wrinkles and tucks in the loose parts of his starched shirt so that it's smooth. He shifts around, the shirt is troublesome with the way she is battling it and he feels embarrassed that she is acting the way she does. He hears snickers and he assumes it’s the other children who find him amusing. He wriggles uncomfortably where he stands, drawling his protests accordingly, "Mooooooooooomm stoooop it!" His mother continues her tedious and not quite perfected work of primping her son, "Don't you want to look nice on your first day?" She looks straight into his eyes and gives him a tired smile of beseechment. Ramiual knows the look and feels guilty. He stops fidgeting so that his mother can be satisfied with her efforts of helping him make a good impression. She finally finishes after what he feels are eons and she pats the top of his eternally mussed brown hair. He looks down at himself to examine her work and he notices a large pink flower looking back up at him from his shirt pocket. He wrinkles his nose at the sight of it as though it is rotten, "Ewwww mom what's this?" He moves his hand over the top of it and nearly crumbles it as he attempts to remove it. His mother quails at him and her thin fingers wrap around his smaller ones, "Ramiual! Don't take out the flower!" There are some things even his mother cannot convince him to do, his underdeveloped pride won't let him. Ramiual does his best to explain his reasons for wanted to get rid of the wretched thing, but his diction is limited given his age. He settles for the most negatively descriptive word he can grasp, "But it's icky. Flowers are for girls anyway!" The last part is the reasoning that he thinks is the truest. It is what his father told him and it’s what the neighbors often say, so it must be true... His mother beams at him and touches his nose with a light tap, "Not if it's like this! This is what boys wear to impress the girls. They're called gentlemen you know!" Ramiual stares at her dumbfounded. Father and the neighbors never mentioned that part, and mother would never lie, "Really...?" He looks up to her with sincere curiosity and disbelief. She hugs him and speaks with deep conviction of her words, "Really Rammy." She strokes the back of his head and rubs his back reassuringly. Yes, mother would never lie. She pulls out of the hug and gives her infectious smile, "Now let mommy give you your kiss." She leans in and kisses his cheek, "One to say good-bye" and she quickly kisses the other, "and one in advance for when I come back!" She holds both sides of Ramiual's face briefly before standing up again. His mother waves to him and he waves to her. She gets back into their shoddy car the color of polluted sky and drives off. Ramiual turns around to his look at his new school. There are bold letters on the top in bright bronze he cannot read what declare to the rest of the literate world that it is 'Silia's Kindergarten'. He didn't notice her earlier, but a woman with glasses and blonde hair tied up in a scrupulous bun is waiting for him by the door. He smiles weakly at her. She frowns at him severely with her red and puckered lips in return. Ramiual's smile dies on his face. She pushes him through the thick white door which has chipped paint at the bottom. His hands apprehensively choke the plastic handle of his tin box as he is toted along. 'School can't be bad.' He tells himself as he is jostled along the foam-covered floor and past the other children. The woman with the embittered face is now standing at the front of the room with him. Her fingers are curled into his shoulder, not enough to hurt, but enough to tell him she isn't going to let him go. Ramiual hears ringing above his head. He looks to see her shaking a tiny ceramic bell that produces enough sound to draw the other children's attention. The room becomes quiet and the other children begin to gather around like starved wolves would to an incapacitated lamb. He stares at them and then back to the woman that is holding him hostage. He doesn't understand what is going on or what she is doing. He wants so badly to ask her, but the expression on her face is one that tells him he shouldn't ask. Ramiual looks at his tied shoes in search of solace. He feels her painted nails dig a little deeper into his arm. She begins to talk in a stuffy voice that sounds like ancient book leafs personified, "Ramiual was quite late, so he is going to be the one that starts us off today." A conceited wave of high-pitched "ooooo" and "he's in trouble" flitter about the group. Ramiual grimaces, he doesn't understand what is transpiring. The claw on his shoulder squeezes, he looks up and he sees the stern woman frowning at him and pointing to a chart. "Read off the letters for the class." She instructs him with lemon acidity. Ramiual looks at the chart of red, blue and yellow. He sees odd shapes high-lighted from the cobalt felt with vermillion and bold saffron, but he doesn't understand what they mean. He shrugs shamefully at her. He hears the hushed gossiping snipes and giggles behind him. 'School can't be bad.' He chants to himself as he stands wordlessly at the front of the classroom. He looks to the wiry woman for answers. She frowns disapprovingly at him and his heart sinks far below any ground he stands on. The woman removes her glasses and folds them so that they hang from the lip of her shirt. She rubs her forehead with her fingers; she looks much older when she isn't scowling. Ramiual seizes the opportunity to escape and he scampers off to the back of their huddled group to sit down. The other children are all chattering amongst themselves and giving him smug glances over their shoulders. He hears the woman muttering lowly to herself, "I will need to have a chat with your mother after school Ramiual." The rest of the day is a blur for Ramiual. He grinds through the year of a day as he waits for his mother to pick him up again. The other children leave soon after school is let out. Ramiual is left waiting with the woman he learned was his teacher near the gate of the school. He sees the battered car pull up and the second the door opens he sprints up to his mother and hugs her legs. She greets him with the bubbly reassurance he missed, but his teacher holds a majority of his mother's attention. He stands there, hugging her and smelling the jasmine perfume she always wears. He doesn't want to let go of her or the scent of white flowers he dearly adores. School isn't that terrible of a place when she is with him. Above him he can hear the teacher telling his mother, "Ramiual doesn't know how to read, unless he does he'll most likely have to be held back." Ramiual feels the poles that are his mother's nylon legs moving, he releases his grip long enough for her to pick him up. She pats his back and he hears her replying in her 'adult talk' manner to the teacher, "I understand Ms. Tamarind." He doesn't pay enough attention to catch his teacher's reply, but he feels his mother turning to carry him out. He continues to hold his arms around her neck, he knows he nearly forgot his tin lunchbox, but he hears its clunky swinging in his mother's hands. They reach the car in a short time and she let's him down so that he can take his proper seat in the vehicle. The car starts up and she spares him a glance before focusing on the wheel and road splayed ahead of the dashboard. "How was your first day sweetie?" Ramiual squirms in his seat. School is the last thing he wants to talk about and he feels squeamish for wanting to tell his mother it had not been at all that good. He settles for what he hopes his mother won't mind hearing, "School isn't fun." His mother cocks her head to the side and even though she is not facing him, he knows that she is smiling, "Today was just a bad day, don't worry Rammy, school will be better later on!" ----------------------------------- (Word Count: 2087) TBC
Does my story about his new member chaos have anything to do with your motivation? It's good, extremly long though (which is good I think) Poor Marly! I like with Marluxia fics to see what some body name every one gives them. It's good. *waits for another chapter*
This is really great. I love your writing style. It suits the thoughts of a young child.I look forward to reading more chapters. Brilliant. :)
Awesome, I motivated some one *feels special* That motivates me to start on chapter seven. That doesn't mean I'm going to but it helps. I really won't start untill the morning when I'm not half asleep, the chapters turn out better when I am awake
