A Study in Solitude

Seeing someone's blood all over your hand has a curious way of bringing you back to your senses. The many rivulets of the warm crimson liquid gushing forth and coalescing to mark their territory can also just as easily push you into one of your worst nightmares. I, for one, am no exception.

As I stood there, watching with a smile on my face, the ultimate beauty of the farce called 'life', I could finally see. I could finally understand why I was attracted to her so much. Why she had come to rule my life. Why I had to do what I did. What I was seeing was beautiful beyond compare. She looked so serene even in death, my heart ached with an intolerable impulse. I wanted to capture each and every strand of her silky hair, capture the depth of those beautiful eyes, capture every single detail of what I was beholding. It was like looking into God's own eyes, communicating with him, apologising for my sins, and finding sympathy and understanding. After all, isn't that what destiny is all about?

My name is Kenji and this is the story of Misukawa, the girl of my life. The girl whose death made me find God. The girl who, as they say, made me who I am today.

A certain someone, impressed by my writing skills, had asked (nay, badgered) me to try my hand at books. Well I am a man of my word, and I did try. And as now there's no point in deferring it to eternity, I give you here the prologue I had written for it.


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