Title: Unchained Fate
Imagine a murky, mysterious, misty part of the world where dying, large blackish trees grow among pools of clear water. In this land nothing is impossible. And reality is ignorance; a game merely fools play. Time never ends, and Time never begins. Nothing is as it seems, but yet, nothing is as it should be. Wade through this river, and you will soon believe: Fate is real. Fate is real…
Black dust reeks through the air and nothing is as it seems. Nothing is here, and yet, nothing is out there. A pathway illuminates through the smoke. Are these the halls of memory? Going through it, we see shadowy faces smiling, no, laughing chained to walls. Or is this just a trapped soul? They are everywhere and nowhere at once. Thick red pierces through the smoke. Fate is laughing. Fate is laughing.
The red substance seeks into the walls…drip. These stained partitions morph, morph, and morph. A woman’s forehead is nailed; blood runs down her face, and she is alone. A shadow loams over the carcass. Dark tendrils exit; they greet this soul. Wiping the bloody makeup, something shadowy leans closer, and they ask, “Are you scared yet, Kent?”
This sinister asylum rips open the realm of reality. Black fire burns every wall and face, and what do we see, nothing…
A young boy ferociously shoots up. Voices reach out to him.
Red walls close in on him, and these voices come closer. Closer and closer, they never stop. Mimicking his breath, they sing the same sad tone over and over. Having enough, the child, terrified, clutches his bed sheets, and cries out.
“How do you shut this broken radio off?”
Another shrill works its way up. But something is stopping him from screaming. These walls morph again, and the boy’s mouth is stitched shut. Drip: water is falling from the ceiling. The bed and the bed-sheets he was sleeping on shakes. Fangs rip through the edges, and he is not alone. These black serpents sliver into the bed. The boy braces himself. Moving backwards, he uses his pillow as a shield. His eyes shut just like his mouth. Behind the covering, he still hears the water falling. And then, it stops. One eye peeks behind the cover, and he sees, nothing…
Black sticks stand in desert sand, an isolated necropolis. They evict the sentiment of death and decay. At the end of these sticks a man stands. No one dares to roam this forgotten land without water. But this man hopes his death will be delivered soon. But he knows it is only when Fate will deliver. In his hands, gripped tightly, he holds a small picture frame. On the back, a small nameplate, “Inza, my love” it reads. The man shuts it, and he looks outward into the desert. A golden mask sits there as if it has been there forever.
“You added an interesting twist this time, Nabu.”
His eyes close, and he begins roaming through his nightmarish memories. Death everywhere, blood written on the walls and no-one in sight is all he can see.
“Part of the past I rather forget.”
But then like those images from before, his memories morph into a time when everything seemed wrong, but somehow felt right. His father, his Pistol, and his life: all the things taken from him.
“But I’m not ready to die, yet.”
His eyes open, and he holds his hand out into the desert. The wind picks up, and the mask is gone. And then, there is nothing else but Fate.
Disclaimer: I neither own Doctor Fate nor Nabu. Only thing I own is my adaption to the story.
A/N: I never realized this site had a fan-fiction site. So, I had to post this story that I wrote about an hour ago as I was editing my first submission I am planning to send to 2000 AD Online. Hopefully, there is no grammar mistakes as I didn't check over it much. However, I had to write my first story of Doctor Fate, one of my favorite heroes, which surprisingly, I never wrote a fan-fiction for. Enjoy xD