Song of the Motherless Orphan 1/?
Mar. 6th, 2005 01:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yellowhordeDisclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing and I make no money from this or any other story I write.
Pairings: None
Category: Angst, poem-fic
Rating: R
Warnings: I don't know. Duo torture, perhaps?
Title: Song of the Motherless Orphan
Author: yellowhorde
Status: Dead
Note: This story is inspired by a poem that is from what is supposed to be the only known book of ancient Mayan lyrical poetry in existence, 'Y-Kolon- Che, the songs of Dzitbalche.' 'The Mourning Song of the Poor Motherless Orphan' was transcribed by Ah Bam and translated by John Curl // Lines from the poem // (Thought)
In case you are interested, here's the link: http://www.red-coral.net/Dzit.html
//I was very small when my mother died
When my father died.
Ay ay, my Lord!//
A young boy of maybe five or six years ran through the streets of the city, a long waterfall wash of chestnut hair trailing in his wake. His heart shaped face was smudged with dirt and grime; his clothes tattered and in sore need of repair. No one paid any mind to the ragged child as he weaved his way frantically between the crowded mass of people; he was just one of many such children that roamed the mean streets of the colony desperate to eke out survival in a world that simply didn't care if they lived or died. Painfully thin legs pumped furiously carrying him towards his destination, a small bundle clutched tightly to his scrawny chest.
The boy, who went by the name of Duo, could barely remember his mother or father. They had died many long years ago and only the dimmest memory of their faces lingered in the child's mind. His family now consisted of a small band of orphans- children like himself who had lost their own families to the armed conflicts that raged in their world. They didn't understand why the grown-ups killed each other; all they knew is that they could depend on no one but themselves to provide what little food, clothes and shelter they did have.
//Raised by the hands of friends
I have no family here on earth.
Ay ay, my Lord!//
Times were tough, but somehow their ragtag group managed to find just enough food to dull the worst of the hunger pangs. They even had halfway decent clothes and a home - an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city where no one bothered them. Things had been going along fairly smoothly until two weeks ago when a virus of unknown origins had broken out among the citizens and had blazed through the colony like a wild fire leaving hundreds of dead in its wake.
Many of Duo's friends had either died or fled in terror when the virus found its way into their meager camp. He didn't blame those who had run away. He himself had wanted to flee, but then the leader of their group, an adolescent by the name of Solo, had come down with the infection.
Solo was Duo's best friend in the whole world, the one he looked up to and admired. Before joining with Solo's small band, Duo had been only known as "Boy", "Kid", or "Hey, you!" It had been Solo who had given him the name Duo. It was Solo who defended the children, provided for them, cared for them and in doing so had taught them to fend for themselves. He had taught them to work together, to be a team. To be a family. As far as Duo was concerned, Solo was father to them all.
And now he was dying.
Duo ran on, the bundle he had stolen from the Medical Facility clutched protectively to his heaving chest. Desperate resolve burned in his heart. Solo was the only family he had left now, and he wasn't about to sit idly by and let him die! Not when there was something he could do about it!
(Solo! I'm coming! Please hang on just a little while longer!)
At long last, Duo reached the familiar shadow-shrouded alley. Glancing about to make sure no one was around; he decided that the coast was clear and darted down the cramped enclosed space until he reached an old decrepit warehouse. Carefully, he squeezed through a boarded up window, taking extra care to avoid the razor sharp shards of glass that littered the ground.
Once inside, he paused for a moment to catch his breath and to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The sound of his ragged breath echoed faintly in the large empty space and seemed to be the only sign that anything lived in the crumbling building. Wiping sweat from his brow, the street orphan crept over towards a still blanketed figure by the far wall.
A young teenaged boy with pale, pale skin lay on a dirty pile of blankets, the red blush of fever on each cheek. Like the younger boy that knelt at his side, this youth was woefully thin. His cheeks were sunken and there were dark circles under his closed eyes. Golden curls tumbled listlessly across his forehead and his face was pinched in pain as he struggled to force his lungs to draw in life sustaining oxygen. Each breath was shallow and raspy. Beads of perspiration glistened on his clammy skin. A sudden spasm of dry hacking coughs wracked the boy's thin frame, and he twisted helplessly in pain until the attack subsided.
Slowly, the boy's eyes opened and managed to focus on the figure at his side. Those eyes were blue, a blue so brilliant they rivaled the sky, but they were glassy, full of agony, and aged far beyond their years by the weight of responsibility that had been put upon his thin shoulders at such a tender age.
"Duo... is that you?" The once strong voice was strained and barely more than a whisper.
Blinking back tears that filled the corners of his eyes, Duo dipped a clean cloth into cool water from a bucket that was dented and covered with rust, wrung it out, then rested it gently upon the fevered brow. The heat that radiated off of the older boy's body frightened him greatly, as did the cough that seemed to be getting worse and worse. It hurt him so much to see his friend suffering. He would have done anything, anything at all, to trade places with him.
"Yeah, it's me, Solo. I got you some medicine that will make you better!"
There was no reply, only the labored rasp of his friend's breathing.
Carefully, Duo unwrapped the package he had stolen. A large hypodermic needle glistened wickedly in the dim light of the interior and besides it was a small clear bottle filled with a yellowish liquid. There were words on the label and although he was not able to understand or even pronounce many of the long medical sounding words printed there, he was able to read to word 'Vaccine' printed boldly near the top.
Licking his lips nervously, Duo twisted open the top of the glass container and carefully inserted the needle, pulling back on the plunger to create the suction necessary to fill the hollow tube with the precious life saving liquid. Uncertain as to the dose he should use, he decided to go with the theory that if a little medicine was good, then more would be even better and filled to syringe completely full. He then rolled up Solo's sleeve and administered the shot carefully, piercing the thin skin of his friend's forearm praying with all his might that he was doing the job correctly.
Solo winced faintly as he felt the sharp needle penetrate his pallid flesh but uttered no sound to indicate pain or protest. He simply no longer had the strength. Blue eyes locked with lavender for the briefest of moments and a faint smile danced bravely upon his lips.
Duo took his companion's cold, limp hand in his warm one squeezed reassuringly.
"You'll be better in no time, Solo."
All night long Duo kept a silent vigil for his friend, talking to him and making him as comfortable as humanly possible given their current circumstances. As the long night began to give way to the budding light of dawn, hope faded as Solo became weaker and weaker. The fever raged even more fiercely and his breathing became faint and erratic. Frantically, with tears in his eyes, Duo raised his head to gaze up to the Heavens and begged with all his might to God pleading with Him to spare the life of one young soul.
But it was simply not to be. The light of the artificial sun had just begun to filter across the darkened sky when Solo's breath, so shallow and faint, escaped his body for the last time with an almost inaudible sigh. Duo clutched his friend's hand holding his own breath, hoping for a miracle but knowing in his young heart the horrible truth of the matter. Silent tears of grief slipped down the orphan's face leaving white streaks on grimy cheeks.
Solo's time had run out.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Pairings: None
Category: Angst, poem-fic
Rating: R
Warnings: I don't know. Duo torture, perhaps?
Title: Song of the Motherless Orphan
Author: yellowhorde
Status: Dead
Note: This story is inspired by a poem that is from what is supposed to be the only known book of ancient Mayan lyrical poetry in existence, 'Y-Kolon- Che, the songs of Dzitbalche.' 'The Mourning Song of the Poor Motherless Orphan' was transcribed by Ah Bam and translated by John Curl // Lines from the poem // (Thought)
In case you are interested, here's the link: http://www.red-coral.net/Dzit.html
//I was very small when my mother died
When my father died.
Ay ay, my Lord!//
A young boy of maybe five or six years ran through the streets of the city, a long waterfall wash of chestnut hair trailing in his wake. His heart shaped face was smudged with dirt and grime; his clothes tattered and in sore need of repair. No one paid any mind to the ragged child as he weaved his way frantically between the crowded mass of people; he was just one of many such children that roamed the mean streets of the colony desperate to eke out survival in a world that simply didn't care if they lived or died. Painfully thin legs pumped furiously carrying him towards his destination, a small bundle clutched tightly to his scrawny chest.
The boy, who went by the name of Duo, could barely remember his mother or father. They had died many long years ago and only the dimmest memory of their faces lingered in the child's mind. His family now consisted of a small band of orphans- children like himself who had lost their own families to the armed conflicts that raged in their world. They didn't understand why the grown-ups killed each other; all they knew is that they could depend on no one but themselves to provide what little food, clothes and shelter they did have.
//Raised by the hands of friends
I have no family here on earth.
Ay ay, my Lord!//
Times were tough, but somehow their ragtag group managed to find just enough food to dull the worst of the hunger pangs. They even had halfway decent clothes and a home - an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city where no one bothered them. Things had been going along fairly smoothly until two weeks ago when a virus of unknown origins had broken out among the citizens and had blazed through the colony like a wild fire leaving hundreds of dead in its wake.
Many of Duo's friends had either died or fled in terror when the virus found its way into their meager camp. He didn't blame those who had run away. He himself had wanted to flee, but then the leader of their group, an adolescent by the name of Solo, had come down with the infection.
Solo was Duo's best friend in the whole world, the one he looked up to and admired. Before joining with Solo's small band, Duo had been only known as "Boy", "Kid", or "Hey, you!" It had been Solo who had given him the name Duo. It was Solo who defended the children, provided for them, cared for them and in doing so had taught them to fend for themselves. He had taught them to work together, to be a team. To be a family. As far as Duo was concerned, Solo was father to them all.
And now he was dying.
Duo ran on, the bundle he had stolen from the Medical Facility clutched protectively to his heaving chest. Desperate resolve burned in his heart. Solo was the only family he had left now, and he wasn't about to sit idly by and let him die! Not when there was something he could do about it!
(Solo! I'm coming! Please hang on just a little while longer!)
At long last, Duo reached the familiar shadow-shrouded alley. Glancing about to make sure no one was around; he decided that the coast was clear and darted down the cramped enclosed space until he reached an old decrepit warehouse. Carefully, he squeezed through a boarded up window, taking extra care to avoid the razor sharp shards of glass that littered the ground.
Once inside, he paused for a moment to catch his breath and to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The sound of his ragged breath echoed faintly in the large empty space and seemed to be the only sign that anything lived in the crumbling building. Wiping sweat from his brow, the street orphan crept over towards a still blanketed figure by the far wall.
A young teenaged boy with pale, pale skin lay on a dirty pile of blankets, the red blush of fever on each cheek. Like the younger boy that knelt at his side, this youth was woefully thin. His cheeks were sunken and there were dark circles under his closed eyes. Golden curls tumbled listlessly across his forehead and his face was pinched in pain as he struggled to force his lungs to draw in life sustaining oxygen. Each breath was shallow and raspy. Beads of perspiration glistened on his clammy skin. A sudden spasm of dry hacking coughs wracked the boy's thin frame, and he twisted helplessly in pain until the attack subsided.
Slowly, the boy's eyes opened and managed to focus on the figure at his side. Those eyes were blue, a blue so brilliant they rivaled the sky, but they were glassy, full of agony, and aged far beyond their years by the weight of responsibility that had been put upon his thin shoulders at such a tender age.
"Duo... is that you?" The once strong voice was strained and barely more than a whisper.
Blinking back tears that filled the corners of his eyes, Duo dipped a clean cloth into cool water from a bucket that was dented and covered with rust, wrung it out, then rested it gently upon the fevered brow. The heat that radiated off of the older boy's body frightened him greatly, as did the cough that seemed to be getting worse and worse. It hurt him so much to see his friend suffering. He would have done anything, anything at all, to trade places with him.
"Yeah, it's me, Solo. I got you some medicine that will make you better!"
There was no reply, only the labored rasp of his friend's breathing.
Carefully, Duo unwrapped the package he had stolen. A large hypodermic needle glistened wickedly in the dim light of the interior and besides it was a small clear bottle filled with a yellowish liquid. There were words on the label and although he was not able to understand or even pronounce many of the long medical sounding words printed there, he was able to read to word 'Vaccine' printed boldly near the top.
Licking his lips nervously, Duo twisted open the top of the glass container and carefully inserted the needle, pulling back on the plunger to create the suction necessary to fill the hollow tube with the precious life saving liquid. Uncertain as to the dose he should use, he decided to go with the theory that if a little medicine was good, then more would be even better and filled to syringe completely full. He then rolled up Solo's sleeve and administered the shot carefully, piercing the thin skin of his friend's forearm praying with all his might that he was doing the job correctly.
Solo winced faintly as he felt the sharp needle penetrate his pallid flesh but uttered no sound to indicate pain or protest. He simply no longer had the strength. Blue eyes locked with lavender for the briefest of moments and a faint smile danced bravely upon his lips.
Duo took his companion's cold, limp hand in his warm one squeezed reassuringly.
"You'll be better in no time, Solo."
All night long Duo kept a silent vigil for his friend, talking to him and making him as comfortable as humanly possible given their current circumstances. As the long night began to give way to the budding light of dawn, hope faded as Solo became weaker and weaker. The fever raged even more fiercely and his breathing became faint and erratic. Frantically, with tears in his eyes, Duo raised his head to gaze up to the Heavens and begged with all his might to God pleading with Him to spare the life of one young soul.
But it was simply not to be. The light of the artificial sun had just begun to filter across the darkened sky when Solo's breath, so shallow and faint, escaped his body for the last time with an almost inaudible sigh. Duo clutched his friend's hand holding his own breath, hoping for a miracle but knowing in his young heart the horrible truth of the matter. Silent tears of grief slipped down the orphan's face leaving white streaks on grimy cheeks.
Solo's time had run out.
TO BE CONTINUED.
