A prologue for an Iceland fic. I wanted to try an autobiography style fic so here it is. It's written in the first person which is a style I don't use often.
This isn't officially chapter one because whether or not I continue this fic relies on how well it's received since most of my fics flop.
Then there's the fear. Ah yes, children being afraid of the dark. A concept we're all familiar with and one that is unfortunately not exclusive to human children. I think that with the knowledge that personifications are technically immortal comes the assumption that they do not experience fear. While it's true that some of us are... More bold with testing the bounds of our immortality, most of us do experience at least one fear. Not knowing what I am at this point certainly doesn't help. Every noise I can't explain away adds to my fear. Really, the only noise I should be worried about is my own rapid breathing since I insist on covering myself from head to toe in the rough, dusty fabric I rely on for warmth and apparently, for protection for whatever I'm afraid of. Because we all know that dusty carpets are impenetrable by... Whatever noise happens to be scaring me. I never sleep for long. Only a couple minutes at a time. An hour if I'm lucky, but I always give up halfway through the night. I get up from the little nest of hay I sleep in because beds are hard to make and hay is actually quite accessible when everyone around you has all sorts of livestock. I try to feel my way to the door, eventually splintering myself on the unsanded slab of wood. I don't linger much on the pain. It snows as heavily as ever and my visibility is still in the negatives, so I have to rely on my instincts to find my way. Why I think I'd be safer outside? Your guess is as good as mine. I know I've made it when I hear the sound of angry waves crashing against the shore. The water this time of year is full of chunks of ice. The current is strong enough to pull a house under, but I don't fear it strangely. It's almost calming. Like someone is still awake when the entire world is asleep. Like I'm not completely alone in the night. I feel around in the dark, hoping for a rock I can cling to while I talk to my only friend. I do find one. It's a tall rock, but nothing I can't climb. The top is smooth but moderately flat, so I won't slip off and fall. At least if I'm careful.
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I've always had mixed feelings about the dark. There's a sick, horrible satisfaction that fills me. I'm not proud of it, but that's how it is. For once, the chatter leaking from the windows of homes around me dies down, the flames that keep their homes warm and filled with lights go out and their homes are as dark and lonely as my life is. It's not a pretty feeling, but knowing I'm not alone in my suffering even for a few hours makes me feel better.
I can't see the water. I can only feel it spraying at my feet every time a wave crashes against the rock. It's cold, but it's too late to start complaining about that.
'it's not fair...' I whine to the ocean. 'why are we the only ones who have to feel this lonely...? Why am I the only one here who was born without a family? Without someone to guide me and teach me what I am?'
A large wave crashes hard against the rock, sending a jet of ice cold water all over me. I take it as an insult. Not towards me, but I believe the ocean is insulted that I thought it would empathise with me. Almost like it was disgusted that I'd even dared to show up and ask for its company.
I turn away from the tide and wrap my arms around myself, attempting to comfort myself after the cold rejection I faced. Tears are not optional at this stage. For once,I'm grateful I'm alone so no one can hear the pathetic sobs that shake my body to its core. There is not a soul in this world I'd want to hear me cry. All I have in this world is a brother who has enough in this world not to feel the same desperation I drown in everyday as I try to find him. I'd have to learn two things before that happens: the rock had learned to accept that it would have to endure being attacked by the ocean whenever it was angry with its own life. It had to accept that as long as the ocean felt pain,it would have to feel it too. The second thing I'd have to learn is that when you fall into a freezing ocean in the pitch black dark when you don't know how to swim, you drown, and with that, comes a very crucial self discovery. At least... If you're me.
Ooc: I think I'm actually going to turn this into an ask blog project in which Iceland is writing an autobiography and people can ask him about his process, things he discusses in the autobiography and a bunch of other stuff. So from now on, chapters of this fic will be posted on the ask blog and not on my main.
I just think it'll be nice.
