Sebastian's Probable ChildhoodA Story by Chidoriflower This is based on Kuroshitsuji, for an anime contest. I hope there will be no partiality, AKASHI. And this is a story.
One night, a baby was heard crying in a small hut, quite far from the respectable city of London. A baby boy was born, in the year 1240, in the first month. His parents were honest folk. They grew wheat and took in travelers, and loved God. His parents, Mary and Henry, were incredibly shocked by the way he looked. He was pale, but plump and handsome, with black tresses. But the parents could not get over his eyes. His eyes glittered magnificently, solemn and jolly; but that was not what shocked his parents. He had the most brilliant scarlet eyes, eyes of ruby red blood. His father claimed this must mean Satan had tried to mock him, and decided to name the boy Mark, to avoid any further "curses."
Mark the baby soon grew to be a 12 year old boy, full of sunshine and acute speculation. Nothing crossed his path without him knowing it, and examining it. He adored animals, and often nursed baby goats, and would take care of baby sparrows; but he loved cats more than any other animals. His parents nagged him for being clumsy, and being lazy. His mother would ask for a mixing bowl, and somehow, he would always break it. If his father asked him to help in the wheat fields, suddenly Mark would feel a pain in his chest, and he couldn't lift a finger. Nevertheless, his parents fussed over his every need, because he was their only child. Mark sprouted to the energetic age of nineteen, and was restless. The farm life bored him, and he wanted to go see the world. He would get the chance, but he would regret it. One evening a traveler requested a meal; this traveler was a priest who was searching for a cook. Mark watched the priest eat, his blood red eyes searching the priest's face with deadly intensity. The priest paused and chuckled, aware of Mark's suspicion. He asked Mark if he wished to join him on his journey to his cathedral in London, and become a chef for the monks and poor who lived there. Mark could not resist this opportunity, even if he was clumsy and lazy. His excitement would overrule all that. The next morning, Mark sneaked away from his parent's house, with the priest, without saying a single farewell. He hoped his father would still care for him, since he was working with a godly man. The cathedral was made completely out of stone, with a straw rooftop, and only fifteen windows. The monks who lived there were actually retired thieves and murderers, and the priest gave them a place to stay, a place to feel safe. Mark was not worried about much, his food was well received, he had charming friends, and a black cat would always follow him, wherever he went. Sooner or later, the monks started calling him "Mark the Kitten." His red eyes seemed loving and innocent, like a cat's; strangers said he looked like a demon. The poor visited the cathedral often, and their children played outside, running and laughing, playing shuttlecock and blind man's buff. What was most terrible, was when Mark was not looking, they tormented Mark's beloved black cat. They pulled it's ears and stamped on it's tail, and kicked it whenever it came too close. Mark never found out, and when he did, hell broke loose. The priest sat in ashes, the walls were mere rubble. He remembered the scorching fire, eating away at everything, burning everyone in the building; he could still hear them screaming. In the midst of it all, Mark stood silent, with a torch in his right hand, and a dead cat in his left. The needles of flame skipped in Mark's eyes, and his black hair spiked, giving him an eerie quality. He had murdered everyone. The priest was the only survivor, and Mark had vanished, like a ghost. Mark no longer felt like living; if his anger brought him to such a vile act, he wished no longer to live. He could not face his mother's fear of him, or his father's shame. Everyone would seek to kill him, and he would have no rest. Before he could plunge a knife into his chest, a figure appeared before him. It told him he must live, to furnish his abilities, to become a demon. His name would not matter, and he would not have to face any consequences. He would just have to become a demon. © 2013 ChidoriflowerAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on March 12, 2013 Last Updated on March 13, 2013 Tags: anime, black butler, childhood, stuff Author
ChidoriflowerR.I.P, CAAboutI love reading, from YA books to classic English literature. Writing is my vent usually. I'm gay as hell. I like food, anime, videogames, and traditional dances. (Like waltzing, salsa, west/east coast.. more..Writing
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