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“You've got to be kidding me.” “It’s been a slow day today, and Superior commanded me that I assign someone this task, Axel. It’s against Organization rules that you refuse to complete the mission assigned to you,” Saïx said statically, crossing his arms and hardening his already stoic stare. “But you assign someone of my ability to do the lowly work of grocery shopping? And with Demyx on top of that?!” Axel protested, throwing his arms down in an exasperated fashion that very much matched his tone of voice. Actually, he didn't mind doing the grocery shopping all that much; usually he wa

Jonas trudged through the icy cold, the snow falling rapidly and piling at his feet. Jonas was bundled up to the nostrils in a puffy green coat, orange scarf, blue hat, and red mittens. His friends back in town would question his fashion choices if they saw him right now, as they always did; he had gone twelve years without experiencing color and now took every opportunity to wear as many colors as he could. * * * It was snowing just like this six years earlier. Jonas could recall that memory clearly, the blistering winds and heavy snow and a near frostbitten Gabe in front of him on the sled as they dashed downwards towards the multicolored

Three figures cloaked in black sat on the top of the clock tower. Their legs hung off the edge, kicking the air. Sticky blue ice cream melted and ran in small rivers down their gloved hands. This day was not unlike all the other days belonging to the trio, it was almost as if their life ran on a one-day-cycle, the only thing changing being what they were fighting and where. Sometimes, even that was the same. It was kind of funny, how none of them ever protested their way of life. They would just sit on the highest point in the town, bathed in the orange light, discussing whatever came to mind at the moment. “Hey, do you ever wonder?&r

“I want to be a writer,” she proclaims loudly. “I want to be a writer.” There really isn’t an audience for her; she repeats those words, anyone would think, for pure entertainment. “I really want to be a writer.” “Is that so?” someone says, taking interest in her repeated proclamation. “What do you like to write?” Fan fiction. The genre automatically flashes in her mind. But no, she can’t say this. Authors can’t make a living off of retold stories. The thought that an aspiring author writes nothing but fan fiction would make English professors scoff. But was th

“Ansem! Look at these flowers. They’re really pretty,” Naminé said, fawning over the field of short, yellow blossoms. She wore a bright smile as she admired them, how there was a sea of yellow flowers in the grassy field she and Ansem were walking through.  “Yellow is one of my favourite colours, you know.” She knelt down to pick one, twirling the stem around between her thumb and pointer finger. “What kind of flower is this, Ansem?” Ansem sighed, shaking his head. “They’re dandelions, Naminé. And they’re not flowers. They’re weeds.” The blonde Nobody cock

Terra was always a strong warrior, and Master Eraqus often called him ‘his next great keyblade master’. As Terra grew older and stronger, his heart hardened. Jealousy and selfishness filled his heart, to the point where Master Eraqus had finally decided to step in. “Terra,” he had said, approaching the young man with the tone of a caring father, “I’m afraid I can’t continue your training to become a master.” The youthful keybearer, in shock, said, “But why, Master? It was you who always said I had the makings of your next great Keyblade master! I’m sure there’s something I ca

I often thought a lot about the causes and effects that lead up to the current moment, about everything that I’ve done to people, and that people have done to me. I’ve been visited by people from a foreign world at a young age and became a keybearer. From that moment onward, I’ve destroyed my very own home, been manipulated by another man to hurt my best friends, locked away behind a giant door, fought through oblivion, and struggled to overcome the ever looming darkness in my heart. Not many can say that, especially those of my age. Now, as I sit here after being assisted across the cold, pale beaches in the Realm of Darkne

Promise you’ll never forget me, Pooh, even when I’m a hundred? Christopher Robin’s pleading words echoed in Winnie-the-Pooh’s mind. It had been years upon years since those words were spoken. He had remained the same, of course, for a bear with a  very little brain couldn’t possibly change drastically. Everything around Pooh remained unchanged as well, including his friends. As for Christopher Robin, it was assumed that he had changed, though none cared to admit it. For many years, Christopher Robin continued visiting them, but as he grew older, the visits decreased, more and more until one day… he disap

Hello. How has it been? The last time we interacted must have been years ago, if that. We used to be so close, but now, you don't even bother to glance at me. Did I do anything to deserve this? I understand that you're growing older, but I can't help but want you to remain the little six-year-old smiling in my memories. Now I'm pushed aside like an unwanted meal. Do you remember when you used to hold me close? When I was your shoulder to cry on, even if my shoulders were extremely narrow compared to the rest of my body? I went on every vacation with you, every trip to Grandma's house, every visit to the doctor's office. And I was the last o

“Hey Sora, did you hear about the new girl living with the mayor?” the older of the two asked one morning as the two boys walked out of the secret place, the hidden cave tucked away in the corner of the large island. Sora shook his head. There was a new girl? He figured she was around his age. He wasn’t exactly why he assumed this; it was just a gut feeling he had. Now the question was, would she easily become friends with Riku and him? Or would she be cross? He hoped it wouldn’t be the latter. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll meet her. What do you think, Sora?” Riku wondere