User blog:Ore-samma/My Bogey (no lewd)

Hello Fans, Ore-Samma here!

Another request, from a fan.

This one was very hard to write. I do not necessarily find the Bogey Mamono easy to write for, so please excuse if the quality is not up to par with my usual.

I do hope my fan and you; the reader, likes it.

Ever your Servant-

Ore-Samma

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I listened in on the argument raging behind the door.

With the way my luck was these past few days, things were going just as expected…. because of course why wouldn’t it go this way?

My parents, along with the rest of my family were consumed by the war that raged on between the Eastern Empire and the Order. My home city lay in ruin, and I was sent to the only known family I had. Some distant twice removed grandfather or something.

“I am an old man, but more than that; the Order has already branded me a traitor even though I was cleared of charges! Do you have any idea what is going to happen to this child after I’m gone?”

“Look, I’m through arguing with you. Either you take custody of your only living relative, or he will be conscripted into the service and sent to the front lines!”

“He’ll hardly have a better life here! Why can’t you-”

“Very well, I’m sorry to have wasted your time, we won’t trouble you anymore.”

I heard footsteps, I was about to get my pack, ready to go to the front lines when the older voice shouted.

“Fine! You and your precious rules you have to follow- fine!”

“Good, sign here. And here, and here.”

The footsteps approached the door and I watched my ‘handler’ leave without even a second glance to me or a word.

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I sat, listening to the distant crackling of the fireplace in the other room. It seemed an eternity passed by when I heard a voice call out.

“Anders?”

I resisted the urge to shudder. This was it; I was going to see this relative that I had to hear about all this way…. A relative that everyone in the Order spoke his name as if it were a foul curse and always with that spiteful sneer as they looked at me….. Marco the traitor.

The first thing I noticed about the man was how old he appeared.... and yet, he looked strong. He was seated in a highbacked chair next to the fireplace as he watched me enter, almost like an old grizzled wolf. Even at his advanced age, he had the look of a dangerous warrior, more than capable of defending himself.

“Sit there.” He said pointing to another highbacked chair next to the fireplace.

I did as I was instructed. I had no choice ultimately. I left my pack under the chair and with a slight jump, I was able to sit and kept eye contact with the man and waited.

The silence held, for what seemed an eternity, broken only by the soft crackle and steady ticking of a grandfather clock.

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“Do you need anything, are you hungry?” He said at last.

“No, not right now.” I responded.

He stood, and my thoughts of him being a warrior were magnified. He still had a certain amount of muscle and strong posture. “First off, I want to tell you that everything that happened; none of it was your fault.” He stepped to the fire and poked at it, and the flames increased for a moment and settled again. “And the coming years are going to be harder than you could possibly imagine.” He gestured to the door. “They will hate you. They will hate you because of me, which is the most unfair thing I can imagine.” He sighed and placed the firepoker away with a dull clank

“They already hate me.” I said in a low voice.

Marco shook his head. “You don’t know their hate yet. But you will, especially after I’m gone. I don’t expect to live through this winter, and when I go, the hate they had for me will turn to you.” He looked at me with his strange, faded blue-grey eyes and sighed. “And such a young boy to receive such harsh treatment.”  He sat back down and sighed. “I know you heard us arguing, boy. And just because I wanted different arrangements for you, doesn’t mean that I wanted to cast you out of my home. No, I wanted you to have better than this. What you are about to experience is not for one such as you.”

He leveled his gaze to me again. “I wish that you would never have to find out what I mean by that… but you will.” He was about to speak more but was interrupted by an alarming, almost horrifying cough that I would get to know all too well.

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Everyday after that became a never-ending nightmare. Every time I wanted to go outside, I was harassed and hounded by most of the townsfolk. So I soon stopped going outside for any other reason than necessity.

However, my chores that I took on around my distaff grandfather’s property were often interrupted by the local children. Sometimes they just jeered and threw things, other times they entered the grounds and attacked me.

It got so bad that I started doing the chores in the dead of night, just to be left alone.

Marco had it worse than I did, and together we suffered in this silent understanding that complaining about it would change nothing.

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One day, late autumn I slowly became aware that Marco was taking longer than usual to return from the market.

I had offered to go out and do the shopping so he could stay by the fire, but he refused, and insisted to go. A sudden dread and panic filled my stomach and I quickly grabbed my coat, a few of the ready-made herbal treatments he used to keep his cough away and sprinted in the biting cold air towards the market.

It didn’t take long for me to find him, he was hunched over, his basket spilled across the street, a few people were even nearby and did nothing to help him.

I rushed over, and gave him one of his treatments, his face a dull blueish grey color.

His breathing became slightly better, but he couldn’t get up. I gritted my teeth and tried, but I was too small and not nearly strong enough for me to carry his weight.

I gritted my teeth and dragged him along the ground, he tried to kick his legs to help, at times he crawled along making it easier for me, but he soon stopped moving as the exertion was too much.

All the while, I had to endure the jeers and thrown objects of the heartless people of the village.

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At last, long after dark I brought him to the fireplace and tried to give him the more potent medication…. but….

I placed my hand in front of his mouth and nose…. nothing…. he was gone.

I slowly covered his body with a sheet and sat in the high backed chair of the fireplace.

I stared, and didn’t even realize I was crying… didn’t even notice my vision blur until the fireplace sounded with a loud pop and the grandfather clock struck midnight.

The soft realization of Marco being dead, and me now being all alone hit me like a lightning bolt. I numbly stood and started to poke the fire, adding a few more sticks of wood.

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The warmth of the fire was ever present now, and my body started to take in a sigh… the sigh turned into a shudder, then to a gasp, the gasp to chaotic breathing, and at last…. I began to cry.

I didn’t cry when my parents and family died, and I knew I wasn’t exactly crying for my dead twice-removed grandfather…. I was….wretched...completely alone, and no better off than death….

I placed my hand to my wet face, trying to wipe away the snot and tears. I coughed; the familiar sound filled me with a revulsion so strong that I couldn't help but puke, I wondered if I possibly caught the sickness that claimed Marco, was I to die alone like him?

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My cries consumed my body, and I could barely see now, I reached out for the chair… I was so out of sorts that I had no idea how I got on top of it with only one arm to help me up. I could almost swear that I was picked up.

I sunk into the chair that seemed deeper and softer than before. I cried, almost screaming out my agony and sorrow. I considered casting the burning fire from the fireplace  and all over the house, and let it consume me! It would do the town a favor, it would do Marco a favor… but most of all, it would end this agony!

I tried to get up, but the chair was too plush, had too much give, and I sunk deeper. I struggled and- wait?

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I stopped, turned to the chair and looked. A strange face was looking at me, its glowing purple eyes blinked.

I was shocked into silence, still feeling my tears pour from my face, my mouth ajar.

What was this thing?

It’s eyes blinked again and it reached out with one of its hands towards me. Was this how I die? I closed my eyes, ready and eager for death.

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“There, there. My sweet precious child. I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.” A sweet voice whispered as a hand stroked my face with a tenderness I had known since my mother.

This sudden gentleness was almost forgotten.... less than a memory of a memory that was all of a sudden renewed as a reality I had thought I would never experience again. I felt my agony erupt anew, like an old infected wound being ripped open and allowing the disease and rot to spring forth.

I cried, feeling another wave of agony as I brought my arms around her, feeling her arms wrap tighter against me, her cheek now resting against the top of my head.

I cried, mourning the insane loss that was force-fed upon my life.... a loss that had made me forget what the smallest of kindness was…. the least of tenderness….and it was suddenly all around me, whispered in my ears, and kisses... so soft and tender against my wet cheeks.

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“My darling, I love you… please…. I love you...” She whispered, rocking me with gentle sways… bringing forth yet another wave of grief and agony that I had not known could have existed… far more deep and terrible than all the others combined.

I could no longer summon the strength to hold her, and she cradled me in her arms…

Soon after, I no longer had the strength to vocalize my agony and cry, and I just lay there, my eyes spilling with bitterness.

I felt the gentle touch of sleepiness touch my eyelids, and could no longer keep them open, though my tears still flowed from beyond my eyelids.

I felt her caress continue as my consciousness drifted…. but sleep was strange... it was neither fully upon me, nor was consciousness.

At times my strength returned enough, and the agony spilled out again, just as violent as if it were the first moment… at times it almost felt as though I had the strength to stand. The strange woman even tried to coax me to move about. But the grief would strike anew.

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Sometimes,  she would spoon feed me warm soup, and sometimes she would feed me milk.

My mind would haze in and out and I remembered her bathing me, caring for me, loving me. Always with that sweet dreamy smile.

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The winter slowly turned to spring, and I stood before a freshly covered grave. I exhaled and wiped the sweat and dirt from my face and felt a hand on my shoulder.

“You have grown so strong since this winter, Anders… I am so proud of you.” Violet whispered.

I smiled as I looked up at her. “Why me? Why did you come to me?” I said at last.

Violet gave a soft smile and kneeled down and took me into her arms. “You needed me. You needed to be healed. You called me, and I came. How could I not?” She whispered.

After a few moments, she let me go and looked to the carriage I hired from the next town over, with a driver who knew nothing of Marco, or of me.

“We are really going to where you live?” I asked as we walked side by side to the waiting open door.

Violet nodded. “Of course. You and I will be happy there! The village I come from already know so much about you, they are all waiting for you… for us...”

I nodded and held out my arms, and Violet picked me up and placed me inside, and followed after.

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The carriage was dark, and I saw her purple eyes glow in the dark, felt her presence draw near and closed my eyes as she took me into her soft, eternal embrace.