The Un-named Chp 1

/Diary, I had that same dream last night. 1

A face flashed before my eyes. A mangled face, full of sorrow, with wide pleading eyes which boared into my mind. I'll never forget those eyes... never...2

I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't forget her.../3

~~~4

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, lit faintly by the glow of pre-dawn. 'bunny.'5

Long minutes passed, my nerves skittish and shuddery.6

'bunny it,' I muttered. 'I'll just get up.'7

And that's what I did. I trudged into the bathroom and dumped some water on my face. The person in the mirror stared back at me as if to say 'You've looked better.'8

Donning a pair of track pants and runners I grabbed my keys and jogged out the door. Up the hill, right to the top, a three kilometer jog one way. I felt my body relaxed as I worked into a rhythm. My legs muscled up the slope. The chilly air rushed past me. I savoured it. I always do.9

Up the path, jump the creek, then straight into the bush. That's what I love about it here, you can feel like you're absolutely lost when, as long as you keep going up, you never get lost. I keep a fast pace, mostly because I can. Breathe, just keeping breathing. I power on, charging through the bush, it's mostly light scrub though, all the way to the top. From there you can see forever. The clouds rolling across the sky, off to some unknown place, free to do as they please, just like me. I grin. Yeah, I think, that's right, just like me.10

Then down I go. I've got a couple of scratches over my bare chest by now, just from running through the bush, but it doesn't worry me. Down's always the hard part. It's too easy to trip and splat yourself on the side of the hill like you would an ant under your shoe. I take it carefully as always and then sprint home once I reach the flatland. 11

I fiddle with the keys, my fingers trembling with the after-effects of hard exercise. I sigh gratefully, my muscles warm and smooth, are trembling under my weight by now... it's such a great feeling. 12

Next half hour's dedicated to stretching. I've got to be flexible, supple, ready for anything. That's how I view everyday life. It's how every serious Martial Artist considers life, I think.13

Muscles become unco-ordinated after stretching. It shows that you've stretched well. I'm glad when I get up a half hour later and almost lose my balance. 14

Into the kitchen. Breakfast of course is the most important meal of the day. Two large glasses of water, lots of fruit and some cereal. Stomach satisfied it's time for a shower and then training.15

Katana thrust into my belt, I walk to the training room that I built last summer. It's large enough for me to cartwheel and flip and jump and tumble, kick and punch, and of course practise with my Katana. Perfect practice makes perfect.16

I work myself hard, going through sword movements with both arms, until I don't feel that I could even hold my beloved Katana up in the air for longer than thirty seconds without it dropping noisily to the floor. Sheathing the blade I bow. To tell you the truth I don't really know who I'm bowing to, it just feels right that I do so. 17

Then, looking through short, dark, bangs I see her. 'Help me!' Her screech resonates through the hall ricketching off the wooden walls and pounding decibel by decibel into my soul. My sword clatters to the floor and I drop. 'bunny.'18

~~~19

/Diary, what's wrong with me? Am I going insane? Surely not... I've learnt and done some pretty scary things in my time but surely I'm not cracking... am I?/20

Scratching sounds echo at my front door. Quietly, deadly calm, I get to my feet and take my Katana off the wall. With the ease of long practise I pad through the hall to the front door silently, my sword, sheathed, grasped lightly in my hand. 21

I can see a shadow against the door pane. I hear the lock break and the door swings open. A man stands there, a jimmy in one hand a gun in the other. He stares at me glancing from the sheathed sword in my hand to the muscles of my bare chest and arms then to the heat glowing in my eyes. 'Get off my property.'22

He brings up his gun and points it at my head. 'Look Mr, I just want some information.'23

With one smooth action I sweep my sword from its sheath. I level it steadily in front of me. 'Get off my property.'24

The man gulps slightly his eyes flicking frantically from the shining blade to my face. His gun trembles in his hands. 'I can't.'25

'For the last time,' I say, 'get off my property.'26

The man begins to tremble with fear. He cocks the gun. I raise my sword and swing it at his neck.27

'Wait!' he shrieks. 28

I halt the sword millimetres from his neck.29

'Speak man. Speak quick and well or leave.'30

'You've seen her haven't you?' he asks, his voice cracking.31

'Who?'32

'The girl with the blue eyes.' The man shudders involuntarily. 'You've seen her.'33

Images of the mangled girl of my dark dreams spark through my mind. 'I know no such girl.'34

'Yes! Yes you do! She wants you. You know her and she knows you.'35

'Get off my property,' I growl.36

'But Sir! She knows! She sees! Please sir, please!' His voice grows desperate. 37

I rest my blade against his throat. 'Get out.' The man only whimpers. I press against his throat and a thin trickle of blood appears. Then I see her. She stands between us and points at me. Her face is bloody, her body a distortion of human kind, a cruel depiction of some demon of the nether worlds. Her image shudders and disappears, flickering in and out of existence. Then she is next to me and leans close. I scream as she places a rotting hand on my chest. Her touch sends the fear of nightmares rattling through my body. That chilling fear that blocks out all sense and reason. 38

'I see you.' Her horrific voice screeches into my ear, eerie and commanding. Then she vanishes.39

I see the man cowering on the ground and dimly remember our conversation. He looks up at me and for a terrifying moment I see her face on his. 40

'bunny,' I mutter. 'Come inside.'41