When the World Was Blue
The panicked hiss of Lord Tamamaru Ren Ren the First stirs the young girl from her fitful dreams. She sits up lazily, rubbing the grogginess from her eyes with a tiny fist and attempts to focus her sight in the pitch-black darkness. She has always had impeccable eyesight (an attribute she is understandably proud of and has found undeniably useful on several occasions) and so she sets her eyes on the small black silhouette that can only be recognisable as her pet kitten.
Flinching violently, the young black cat sets a pair of striking sky-blue eyes on his owner, gaze wild and feral. His tail twitches agitatedly, flitting around in such a way as to stir a feeling of anxiety in the girl's stomach. Undaunted by this, however, she pouts childishly and lifts him up, whispering soothingly, "Hey, what's wrong, Tama-chan?" She attempts to placate him with a firm stroke behind the ear but the feline wriggles fiercely, leaping from her grasp and dashing from the room in a fearful sprint. Bewilderment sets in, and the little girl rolls clumsily out from under her light summer duvet, her far-too-long pyjama bottoms greatly hindering her escape from the sheets.
Once free from the clutches of her bed linen, her short legs guide her towards the darkness of the hallway where her pet had fled. The lone window at the end of the hall filters fleeting glimpses of moonlight though the blinds, casting her pale skin in a ghostly glow. Her tiny feet shuffle sleepily towards the gap in the doorway to her mother's room, which she spots her kitten's black tail disappear through. Curious, she follows.
She pushes the heavy door open with all the might a four year old can muster and momentarily revels in the warm summer breeze washing over her face from the open balcony door on the opposite side of the room, the white curtains billowing ominously like phantoms. But then she notices the threatening figure standing in the centre of the room, hovering dangerously over the bed in which her mother lays.
Her mother's body is spread hazardously across the bed, a gaping hole torn through the centre of her chest. Her wide, pupiless hazel eyes stare lifelessly at the young girl from where her head hangs limp over the edge of the bed, her neck at an almost unnatural angle. The tear trails are still wet from where they had run down her once rosy cheeks. Blonde hair sprawls around her like an ashen halo, dyed red from the spilt blood.
The shadowed figure lingers by the bedside, gripping the hilt of a bloodied katana, the blade of which is thrust through her mother’s heart. Her deep red blood seeps into the white of the bed sheets, still spurting generously from her fatal wounds. The figure draws the sword from her body slowly, taking his time in the process, before carelessly tossing the weapon aside. It clatters to the floor not far from the little girl's feet. The man's turquoise gaze watches the woman's body similarly to that of a hunter admiring his captured prey. His bloodied hands curl into fists at his sides.
For a single moment, the air is silent with dread.
Shaking with horror, the little girl collapses to the floor, legs too weak to hold her weight any longer. The blunt thud of her knees hitting the wooden floorboards alerts the man to her presence and his head snaps in her direction, bright blue eyes locking with her own.
Terror freezes her to the spot.
Fear flows through her veins, skin prickling with the anticipation of her natural instincts to flee, but her legs cannot move, her arms cannot move, she can't even open her mouth to scream for help. The rushing feeling of distress fills her gut and ice fills her veins. Petrified tears leak from her eyes and her lips tremble in horror. Her mouth goes dry; she struggles to swallow the lump in her throat. Her heart beats erratically inside her chest, shuddering like a drum in tandem with the sound of her panicked heartbeat in her ears. She thinks her ribs might just crack under the pressure. His murderous stare drills into her very soul.
And then her whole world is on fire.
The room is suddenly set alight with searing blue flames, the radiance of the fire emitting a freakish cerulean glimmer across her fair skin. The azure blaze spreads through the room, catching onto the billowing curtains and tattered floor mat. A tongue of fire flicks towards the bed, crawling across the red and white sheets, charring everything in its monstrous path. The flames lick over her mother's skin, burning, burning, burning.
The man glances at the circle of turquoise flames in which he has been surrounded by and, taking one last brief glance at the tiny girl sitting motionlessly in the doorway, vanishes into the darkness of the night.