AN: *AN does not have any affect on story.*

A question for ya'll gents and G.I.R.L.s.

Spoiler : Lol, this is me trying to be, 'deep' and 'profound.'

Even if you cringe the whole way through, hopefully you at least chuckle a little, eh?

Though, an honest question.

If you were put into an environment devoid of everything, and had your body, your memory, your everything except for your mind, taken away, what is the first thing you'd question?

Am I alone in saying the first thing I'd ask myself is whether I exist or not?

Pointless rant on things you don't care about, and the reason I'm writing this. Goddamn fucking elves...

Spoiler : But, as much as I'd like to, writing a complete fiction without any other characters, any plot, or any seeming growth, that'd be too hard.

So, I'm going to write one of the cliches' of these types of stories. You've all read em'.

"Guy get's hit by Truck-sama, meets big-breasted goddess, is given overwhelming cheat, then set loose on a certain planets women."

Sure, some can be entertaining, and although I rarely find a time when the harem aspect is well-done, usually it's just a clusterfuck of bad writing and stupid wet-fantasies of the author. In a lot of them, the MC is born as a dragon, and then somehow or other becomes human-shaped, and then gets a big-breasted elf.

If I have to be totally honest, I've come to hate elves with big boobs. So much so, in fact, that the mere mention of an elf in any novel causes my chest to clench up. If it's written that she is gifted in the chest area, I become constipated. If it 'just so happens' that she's rescued from something or other, and that she actually is super powerful but some strange reason forced her to be helpless *cough cough plot convenience cough cough* and that in this point in time she falls deeply in love with the MC but for some reason lets him run off and collect other members of the harem or goes along with him yet does nothing to stop him from collecting more girls...

Well. I've just dropped perhaps the sixth novel for that very reason.

You can probably tell I'm a little irritated at this cliche troupe, as I've just literally written an essay on the subject.

It's just, I want to read good stories.

And stupid big-tittied elf-women (sometimes men) keep fucking getting in the way of my enjoyment!

And so, we return to why I'm writing this.

You're probably confused as to why there hasn't been a single mention of environment the whole first chapter. The reason will soon be clear.

Just for the record:

I didn't want to write a dragon fiction, because it's been grossly overdone, but you've forced my hand.

No longer will I force myself to read on with the thought, "Well Darkness, you write something better."

Because, I'm going to show ya'll how it's done.

Not with stupid fucking big boobied elf-shit, but with real story-telling.

AKA loads of gore and violence. W/ probably swearing and insanity. And maturity. Lots and lots of maturity.

Because that's how a dragon should be.

My opinion matters. Shut up.

The truth.

Spoiler : Whew, ranting sure feels good. Now, onto...

...I sorta forgot what I was writing...

Oh well, I'm sure me not having any idea what I'm doing will have absolutely no effect on the quality of my writing. ^^

Not like I had any idea in the first place, amiright?

Crash

It...

...

...Stopped?

...

Is this...'silence?'

...

There is no sound. No movement. Why has it stopped?

Though my world has stopped shaking, the absence...

Makes me shake.

Snap, grind

Something...someone...is moving me...I have no control...

It's terrifying.

Grunt, shake

Footsteps. Breathing. A heartbeat. The warmth of something on my side.

Something is...alive. And it's carrying me.

Ha, ha, ha

I...no, my...body.

It's spreading. I can feel it. There are...five? Six? Eight?

Legs. I have them. Tail. Neck. And...something else.

My tail twitches. It's confined by something sticky. My arms are unable to move much. They're trapped, against my torso, and...something else. Something hard.

Haaa, plink

It's stopped. I listen. I can hear it. I can hear. The footsteps are moving away.

My head. It's up against something hard. I can feel. There's a layer of sticky semi-liquid between me and the hard surface. It fills in all the space I don't fit in.

I can feel it...a part of my head. It has a hinge. Does that mean it opens?

I move the muscle. my head splits in two. But they're still connected? And the sticky substance is touching the parts of my head it couldn't before. A strange feeling comes from the long muscle taking residence in the bottom. It tingles when the sticky liquid touches it. I can move the long muscle around. It goes back and forth, forward and back, and...

I can taste.

Tongue! Mouth! Jaw, gums, throat, uvula! The substance tickles my throat, and from my tastebuds, I can tell. It's sweet. Sweet! Sweet!

Gulping it down, the substance travels through my body, arriving in my...stomach? No, one stomach. It fills me up, makes me feel warm, and...

...tired? Yes. Now I should...

...'sleep?'

Sleep. Sleep is restful. It is necessary. It is...unconsciousness. Helplessness. Vulnerability. Weakness.

No.

I will not.

Weakness means...death.

And isn't 'sleep,' like death?

An end. The end.

No. I don't want it to end. Not when I can feel, not when I can hear, not when I can taste!

I will not let myself go. I shall not let myself be thrown down and taken advantage of. 'Darkness' may drag me with the might of Hell...

But I shall not go quietly into the night.

I squirm. I twist. I jerk and shake and force myself to resist. To push away the oncoming blackness of the abyss.

But...

Strength must wane, and one day become weakness.

Force must run out, and become still.

Day must sometime give in to night.

I...

...am weak.

I am afraid.

And I have lost.

The abyss swallowed me, and the fear held me even whilst I fell.

---

It's chasing me.

Dear...'God?'

God: A being of, or near, omnipotent power.

Rarely, if ever, answers prayers.

I am scared. I'm frightened. I'm terrified. I want my...'mother?'

Mother: A sacred being, who protects and teaches her charges.

I have no such thing.

I don't want to be here. I want to be saved, to be rescued, I need a...'hero?'

Hero: A person who protects the right, and vanquishes evil.

Then...where are they?

It's getting closer.

It's coming for me.

I don't know what it will do when it catches me.

The funny thing?

Hisssssssssss

The not knowing makes it all the more horrifying.

---

I'm trapped.

I can't move.

It's dark.

I'm scared.

But I'm awake.

I open my jaw, and lick the surrounding substance, attempting to drive away the bitter taste of fear.

I didn't know you could taste emotion.

The sweet taste makes me feel better. It lets me forget the...'nightmare.'

But my back itches.

It feels like tiny arms and legs are skittering across my spine, moving up to my neck, up the back of my head. They're right by my ear. I can feel it. They crawling into my ear they're inside of my brain, they're biting and tearing and ripping me up.

I shake and I jerk but I can't get them out. They're burrowing deeper, digging outward. They're in my head, crawling and biting and squirming and tasting.

Tasting...

Tasting me.

Do I taste sweet?

I twist my head and bite my leg. It hurts, it makes me want to stop, but the harder I bite the less they squirm. Something comes out, and mixes with the sweet substance. It's warm. It's thick. It's gritty.

It's sweet.

The pain rushes to my head, and the abyss replaces the biting, squirming, itching things.

Weakness, and death.

But now I welcome it.

---

It hurts.

It hurts.

It HURTS.

It HURTS.

IT HURTS.

Why does it hurt so much?

It hurts.

I'm scared.

It hurts.

I'm scared.

It's scared.

I'm hurt.

The 'darkness' is gone. But in it's place is pain.

Pain.

PAIN.

OH GOD THE PAIN

---

It hurts.

I'm scared.

But I'm awake.

I shift. For some reason, it's hard to move. The hard surface seems to have shrunk. I try to lick up the remaining substance, but only a little is left. Now all I can do is lick the hard surface.

Time passes.

It hurts.

I'm scared.

I'm hungry.

I've hit the surface with all I've got for eternity. It refuses to break. I sense it. Just outside this wall, everything is waiting for me.

God. A mother. Heroes. Light.

All I need to do is break out.

Again and again, I bash my head against this wall.

Again and again, it answers me with pain and refusal.

Again and again, I rake my legs against this wall.

Again and again, it scratches my body and tears at my soul.

Again and again, I howl with pain and fear, in a voice I can't recognize.

Again and again, silence and darkness answers me.

Again.

And again.

I give up hope.

Because I know the truth that my body and heart and soul all refuse to understand.

There is no God.

There are no mothers.

There were never any heroes.

And there was never any light.

I will stay within this wretched abyss until the time of my death.

Alone, scared, hurt.

In the dark.

With no way out.

Death.

Death.

Dea-

It broke.

A tiny hole to the outside.

I can feel it with my tongue. I can taste the outside air.

And...

Perhaps...

There is

'hope'

after all.

But I'll retain my doubts.