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Anime/Manga Fan Fiction >> Ranma

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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Transit
By David Johnson

 

The FFML Refugee List

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Transit


Empty. I feel so terribly empty.

The well wishers keep coming, bringing food and words of sympathy,
while I sit here, pretending I'm my father-in-law, wishing they'd all
just leave me alone. The worst part is that occasionally I catch a
peek of something else in their eyes. Opportunism. I'm a good
looking man, if I say so myself, and being a martial artist has a
certain cachet to it in this community. Some of them aren't terribly
good at concealing their interest in "comforting" me, and some are
quite deliberately obvious about it.

They disgust me.

There was only ever one woman for me even if it took a while for me
to figure out what was in my own heart. And now that my heart is
dead, they circle it like carrion crows. I should drive them out but
that would be impolite, and undignified and I am no longer the
juvenile lout trailing mayhem behind me that I once was.

Those were the days.

If there's anyone I'd like to see right now, it would have to be my
best friend and rival from those days. Have a brawl for old times
sake. Of course with the way he aimlessly wanders the country, it
will probably be years before he even hears about what has
happened.

Just as well he isn't around.

It's not like the old days. I can't go off on spur of the moment
training trips or brawl in the streets. I have responsibilities.
I have children who need me. And yet I sit here, doing nothing
at all to help them because I can't think of anything to do or
say that might help them get through this any more than my
neighbours can think of anything that can help me.

My children whisper behind me.

"Is papa all right?"

"Of course he isn't all right! Don't be stupid!"

"Don't call me stupid!"

My eldest tries in vain to make peace between her
quarreling sisters until I turn on them. I'm not sure
what my face looks like but all three of them turn
white as I order them to stop and scold them in their
mother's name.

I'm too rough on them. All three of them are crying
as they go upstairs. I want to apologise, but I don't
know how. I need to clear my head, release some
of the anger inside me so I go out to the dojo.

After demolishing every lump of concrete and
sparring dummy, that burst of fire inside me is nothing
more than damp ash. I feel bone tired and sit down
leaning against the wall to close my eyes for a while.

When I wake up, I feel strangely relaxed. Someone
has cleaned up the debris of my tantrum for me, and
I go inside, to stop dead in amazement.

She's there! My wife is making supper! It's impossible,
but as I dash forward she's alive in my arms!

She laughs and protests, "Hey! Easy there, I'm breakable
you know."

"You've come back to me!"

She steps back in confusion, "What are you talking about?
What's wrong?"

"You...you were dead! I remember you dieing!"

"Are you all right?"

I shake my head. "Everything's fine now. But it was so real!"

She thoughtfully considers that and says, "Well, you know,
sometimes it can be hard to tell the difference between reality
and a dream."

Then of course, I really wake up, and for the first time since
my wife died, I begin to cry.

__________________________________________________

In memory of my mother.

David Johnston
rgorman@telusplanet.net


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The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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