Don't Cry For Me

From the Story Arc: Finding a Host

Previous Story in the Arc: They Found Me by Home World (Friday, June 17, 2005)

Next Story in the Arc: Awaiting the End by Home World (Wednesday, June 22, 2005)

(posted Tuesday, June 21, 2005)

Even though the sunflowers waved at him as he passed them, the tears still dribbled down Home Worlds pale cheeks. He tried humming the songs Bella had just sung to him but he could not remember the words. Rule number one is not to create an emotional attachment and have. God help me, I have.” Home World spoke to himself as he continued home. He stood still for a moment.

“Maybe I had broken rule number one? Maybe I had become emotionally attached?” he shook off the thought quickly.

“I don’t know who I am or where I come from or where I belong”.

He took a deep breath. The simplicity of the view did much to place a soothing balm upon his restless soul. A strong desire to run shot through him as he struggled to swallow an unknown panic. I can do this, he silently insisted.

The sun had just barley crested the horizon and Home World was already exhausted. He had been preparing going on four hours. His eyes became heavy he found it hard to fight the heaviness of his eyes. He slumped over on the chair, fast asleep and entered a world of dreams.

‘Dream Sequence’

"Bella, I have something important to say." he began, with slow crisp words. "It's not going to be easy to hear, but you must."

Her eyes stared with unblinking awareness.

"I'm sick Bella. Dying. It's in my chest." Home World swallowed, and then licked his dry, chapped lips. "I don’t have much time left."

"Why ---- what’s wrong with you, can’t doctors fix you?" she asked, with a twinge of curiosity and sadness.

Home World shook his head, but did not drop his target gaze.

"Not everything can be fixed in the world. Some things are just too complicated."

“Cry to me, it will be fine for now.
I am going to make things better somehow.
It makes me happy to see your smile;
it makes this ache worth the while”.

A banging at the door woke Home World from his slumber. He wiped his eyes, “must have fallen asleep” he spoke to himself. Walking towards the door an eerie feeling surrounded him, enveloped his senses. Something felt wrong, almost as if…

He opened the door “yes” he spoke as he adjusted his eyes to the light, but no one was there.

“Strange I could have sworn I heard a…”

“I see your senses are still in tact!”

“Hiigaran---how did you…”

“Find you? It was easier than you thought. Now where is my host?”

Hiigaran snarled loudly, black armor almost vibrating as it churned the air around it with hot steam. Lines of spittle dripped from his mouth. He grinned meaningfully, seeming to wait to taste Home World’s blood, eager for a second helping. Home World knew if he weren’t careful, Hiigaran would get what it wanted.

Strong hands seized a fistful of his hair and yanked upward, hauling him unsteadily to his feet. He tried to fight the grip with what little strength he still possessed, twisting and striking blindly at the darkness in front of him, hoping to land a punch on Hiigaran’s invisible features. A hand came out of nowhere and made brutal contact with his face. He staggered and fell onto his back with an agonized snarl. Blood blurred his vision with its sticky shroud and he clutched at his nose. Pain loomed everywhere on his body. Why couldn’t the torture just end!

Picking him up he tossed Home World across the room like he was a rag doll. Home World quickly hid behind a door and slammed it shut.

With staggered breath he leaned against the door. Its knob dug deeply into his shoulder blade, yet he endured the secondary torture only because that knob was the only thing keeping him from sliding across the door and collapsing. Through blurring vision he glared defiantly at the creature, one hand grasping for a weapon, the other trying in vain to stop the bleeding from his torn side: his primary torture. Useless. Rivers of red seethed through the spaces between his cupped fingers, sliding to his thigh to accumulate before becoming dense enough to pool at his feet.

Suddenly time slowed down, almost stopped. Was this it? Was this the end? He saw a bright white light to his side. Somehow he could move his head, he looked towards the light. There ten feet away walking to him came a boy, surrounded by an other-worldly light. As he moved no one seemed to notice him, and through all the agony and anxiety that Home World felt, the sight of this boy calmed him, comforted him.

The heavenly boy walked up to Home World and knelt.

“Hello Home World.” He said.

“Who are you?” Home World asked.

“I’m an angel, I’m here for you.”

An angel, then it was over, these were his last moments on earth. He was dying.

“No! No! I can’t die yet!” he shouted.

“Why are you scared Home World? You are going to a better place.” The angel said.

It wasn’t the fear of death that worried Home World, it was his friends. They needed him, he can’t die yet, not yet; they needed him.

“No, Bella, John, I can’t leave them; they need me, they can’t be alone!”

“You can leave those burdens behind you now, Home World.”

“No I cannot go now, not yet”. Tears streaked his face, mingled almost indistinguishably among smears of fresh blood. Tangled brown hair streamed like bushes of seaweed behind his armor clad body, a vulnerable creature that helplessly tried to escape this ever growing darkening shroud.

He couldn't afford to die, not now, not at this fetid place. Haunted voices of the darkness continued to follow, pulsing with an unearthly chilliness.

Trying to get up he fell to the ground, and clawing, pounded vigorously on the wooden door.

"Open this door. Open!" Hiigaran continued to pound the thick wooden door determinately. He wouldn't give up. Not now, not at this second...he wouldn't give up! It smashed opened, finally, with a loud, ear-breaking creak.

Hiigaran marched towards Home World his heavy feet trampled through the broken room. Reaching forward Home World grabbed a small kerosene lamp and threw it as hard as he could. The glass lamp smashed into the waist of Hiigaran, who looked down and looked back at Home World.

“No!” he screamed as a white light formed around Home Worlds fist engulfing Hiigaran in flames.

Hiigaran jerked its head back with a shriek and leapt from its victim to race off into the night; its yelps of anguish satisfied Home World as he dropped his hand and gingerly rose into a sitting position. Hiigaran would be back, he knew, right after it recovered from its shock. But at least it would give him time to better prepare himself. His vision had worsened—he’d realized that during the battle. His hands crossed down and his eyes fell to merely proclaim his fears. The wound had widened.

Carefully, he lifted his fingers away. Sticky strings of blood attached themselves to his palm, binding it to the wound like an adhesive that had not quite dried. If he didn’t do something to slow the process, he’d die before he had a chance to fulfill his duty.

Slowly, he shed his uniform armor. He couldn’t believe how weak he’d become! Even a task as trivial as taking off and ripping apart the linen of his undershirt proved difficult. When he’d finished, eight long strips draped over his leg. With care, he leaned to the opposite side to allow easy access to the wound, folding three of the linen into thick squares, fitting them over the aperture, and applying pressure. He doubted such would do anything to stop the blood completely, but it was better than nothing.

You!” Hiigaran’s sudden infuriated roar broke the cadence of his beating heart and labored breath. “You vermin! Pathetic little wretch!” His voice grew nearer and compelled him to break into an uneasy jog, his gaze fixed on his goal. Destroying Home World while still obtaining his host. “Look what you have done!”

From out of nowhere, a large barrel collided into the back of his legs. His already weakened muscles buckled on him, and he collapsed like a sack of meal. He glanced upward in fortitude, the fireplace and his way out only feet away. His resolve forced him up again, but something tore in him, and he crumpled with a scream. As he felt the warmth of blood tickle his side, he realized his violent impact had been too much for his bandages to sustain.

Now his eyes stared straight ahead as he stumbled forward. Hiigaran didn't give him time to curse his panic.

Two green eyes glowered down at him through the blackness. Although the light emanating from that pupil illuminated Home Worlds face, the rest of Hiigaran’s features were dark and emotionless. “How . . . dare . . . you,” he growled after a moment of cold silence. “How dare you burn me!” he snatched at the remaining kerosene lamp that had dropped beside Home World. A burst of flame exploded in front of him as he lit the torch with, it seemed, just his gaze! “Look what you have done to me!”

“All you needed to do was help me.” Hiigaran snarled, pushing down harder, trying to overthrow Home Worlds defense. “Because of you, I shall never complete my task!”

“What are you talking ab—”

“Do not mock me, Home World! I am sick of playing this meaningless game with you!” His voice thundered through the gloom. “You know well what I mean! The Host!”

The words hit him sharper than the pain in his nose or side. He had feared Hiigaran was looking for them him all along, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. “I don’t know.”

“You do know! Tell me and I might spare your life.”

“I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew!”

“Then you shall die a most painful death!”

To be continued…