Child's Play [Hiatus]
Description
Kim Junsu was none too thrilled to be leaving behind his busy city life in favour of an old historic country home in the middle of nowhere. Having been the only son of two real estate agents, his parents were having none of it. They purchased the house from a young couple who seemed oddly desperate to sell it. Later they learned the couple had been the death of their son who died only a year before and they were eager for a fresh start.
Shortly upon moving in, Junsu meets and odd boy, not too unlike himself with a strange knack for games. After asking around, Junsu learned that the death of the couple's son was not the first to occur in that house.
Characters: Junsu, Yoochun, perhaps some others later Genre: Psychological, Ronance Rating: 10+ Pairing: YooSu A/N: Unfotunately, I do own only the story and none of the characters.
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Okay so this is my second fanfiction and it will be very different from the first.
This one I intend to be chaptered, but I’m not definite as to how many chapters that will entail
(my stories can sometimes be quite lengthy. Oops).
Personally I would prefer to wait for the thing to be about half way complete before posting even the intro but I was eager to post it damn my impatience.
Having established the fact that this is a new story, most of the junk stuff that I’ll be posting will be mostly unedited and I will most likely continue on editing after the chapter has been posted.
(When I re-read The Loveseat, I was assaulted by a few select errors that lunged out at me and slapped me in the face, so I had to go back and smooth those out) so that’s that. That should conclude my absurdly long author’s note. ♡
I know it’s a habit we authors possess, but comments really makes us feel good about our writing and constructive criticism can give us ways to make it better. Even a small 10 second comment will make my day and having me jump up and down in front of the computer with excitement.
See you next update ♡
Rainy
Foreword
Smoke. Heat. Scorching. Fire.
The boy coughed into his arm, wheezing in a desperate attempt to feed air to his starving lungs. He peered through the smoke, beginning to panic. It was so dark it could have been night time and the weight the smoke pressed on his exhausted lungs was crushing. He felt tears streak down his cheeks. He didn't want to die here; not where he was scared, alone and couldn't breathe.
With his sleeve jammed in front of his mouth, he tried to fan away the smoke with his other hand but it was no use; the smoke was simply too thick. He felt fear pour through him when he felt the temperature flare by dozens of degrees. He stumbled blindly, his eyes watering so badly he wouldn't have been able to see even if there was light. It was as if someone had tossed road salt into his eyes, they burned so badly.
Before it was only smoke but now there was a bright scorching heat that could only mean one thing: open flame. He felt the heat become unbearable near his left leg and he registered something bright and orange at his leg. He cried out and began shaking so badly he would have fallen, but pure terror shackled him in place.
He squinted around and saw the orange everywhere on the ground and knew he didn't have much time before the entire place went up in flames. Then he saw it: a way out. In the light of the flames, he could just make out the still untouched hay loft: his safe haven. If he could just make it to the loft, he could get onto the roof and jump into one of the surrounding trees and climb down to safety. If he could just get there...
With nothing but his goal point in mind, he dashed for the ladder and scrambled up. Once he reached the top however, it became apparent that his small victory had cost him dearly. The trip cost him all of the air in his lungs and all he could do was pant. He felt a pang of discouragement as he realized he had probably inhaled too much of the smoke already. He doubled over, gasping and heaving but he couldn't seem to catch his breath. His surroundings began to blur in and out of focus and every limb began to grow heavy as if encased in lead. He was so sore and exhausted, he wanted more than anything to just go to sleep right there. Everything was becoming too much of an effort; even just to breathe took more strength than he could muster.
More tears spilled out but not because of the smoke. “Umma, I'm so sorry.” He cried, but no sound came out of his smoke ruined throat. He felt the loft shudder underneath his feet. He knew if he moved now, he would be able to see his mother again and tell her how sorry he was, and that he didn't mean all the horrible things he'd said to her before. But he simply didn't have the strength left in him to take even one step more. “I didn't mean the things I said.” He sobbed. “I love you Umma, so please come back.” He rubbed his eyes as more tears spilled out.
The world began to spin and he fell on to his hands and knees, his body too weak to hold itself up any longer. He felt the structure shudder. “Umma please!” He cried. “Help me!” He shrieked when he floor pitch beneath him, followed by the sensation of falling.
The last thing he felt was excruciating pain before the world went black.
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