Discl- No. I don't. End.

I actually wrote this story while I was office monitor in school and there wasn't need for me to do any work. I don't even remember how I got this idea in the first place... but anyways, here it is!

To Understand

"And then, in that horrid place, that darkness, those shadows, I found you. Your light. Your cries which pierced through the silence of death. You were barely alive, yet you struggled and struggled, then managed to hold on."

He'd already heard this same story thousands of times before; he knew it by heart, and he could recite it a thousand times- even close his eyes and see the weary grey face through a veil of tears, hear the soft rustling of clothes through the choked sobs that, though he knew not then, were the wails of his own soul which were regurgitated by his hoarse throat that knew nothing else.

"...and that is how you became my son."

"Yes, father," he replied softly. "I know."

Of course, the wolf seated before him wasn't his real father. But nonetheless, he was the closest one that he could ever call such a name.

The lupine then sighed deeply, his greying hairs blowing gently in the passing wind as the dry leaves the color of burning flames danced down towards the earth. The setting sun reflected dimly on the lens of his shades which cloaked his eyes, hiding them from the piercing stares of the world. For a moment, there was only silence, save for the whispering of the golden leaves.

"Get me a bottle, son," the wolf murmured to the young fox sitting on the chair across.

"Yes, father," the vulpine complied, his voice as monotonous as the never-ending ticking of a watch.

Slowly, he got up, as if afraid to leave his elder's side. And even as he entered the back door of the old house, he took care to tread as lightly as possible on the ancient floorboards, as if even a light creak could make them fall apart. The little fox tip-toed to the kitchen in that manner, and, stepping on the stool that had its permanent place below the cupboard for the purpose, he reached into the cupboard. His fingers clasped around the slender neck of a dark bottle, which never seemed to leave that spot; no matter when he came to check, another one would always be in its place- perhaps a different color, a different container shape- but he knew that inside was the same deadly poison.

The vulpine silently set it down on the countertop, cringing at the ever-familiar weight which he could never get used to no matter how many times he held it in his hands. He then climbed down, carrying the object that was lead in his arms all the way back to the porch.

"Thank you," said the wolf, briskly accepting the bottle from the little fox, and with one swift movement, popped out the cap and took a long swig, emptying its contents within moments. The plastic glimmered like glass under the glares of the sun, as did his shades.

The fox only watched on with sombre azure eyes. He hated when that happened, as it did ever so many times; the only one he had ever known to trust would fade away, drowned in the intoxicating fumes of liquor- the price paid dearly by those who sought to forget.

The empty bottle fell to the floor with a clatter, and the wolf leaned back in the chair, as if trying to recall a long-forgotten world- or rather, to forget.

"Them… do you see them coming?" the wolf suddenly hissed, jolting up from his seat. His voice was mingled with traces of hatred and fear, laced with the weariness of life. Even without the shades, the young fox knew that they too reflected off from his elder's eyes.

"Ah… the blood! Do you see the blood?" The lupine raised his paws, worn by scars beyond age, as if to examine them. They trembled under some unseen force, until they abruptly fell and rested limply on his lap.

"The war, son! The war! Can't you see? Don't you understand?" he suddenly cried out, but the fox only looked back with dreary eyes. Yet still, they harboured a faint interest in those words so terrifying beyond their own meaning. The lupine's paws clenched tight as a steel trap, shaking violently.

"I was betrayed, son! Betrayed! Do you understand how it feels like, to die at the hands of someone whom you trusted with all your heart? To believe in someone, only to let them stab you when your back is turned? How can you understand how it feels to hear the cries of the ones whom you loved, the screams of pain and anguish? And then, even then, you can't do anything to stop it all, because you're weak! Useless! Pathetic! Do you know? Could you ever understand?"

The words were only confused mixes of choking spasms and bursts of rage, yet still the little fox listened intently, absorbed in the emotions emanated from those spoken words. Though each time they were different, they always brought him to the same harsh, cold battlefields, where the sounds of anguished cries of pain and sorrow echoed in the obscurity, of love and betrayal and the blood that shone crimson under the weeping light of dusk. These stories wove themselves into his own life, though he did not -could not- understand. He could only merely listen, offering silent words of comfort or a nod from time to time for the other to acknowledge his presence, though he knew that beneath the shades, the wolf's eyes looked beyond him- and into another space where he was not. The two seemed to be of centuries apart, from different worlds altogether. But still, despite all, the fox listened on.

After countless moans and cries and hisses, the lupine relaxed at last. His body went limp and he seemed to lean against the chair, staying ever so still. But these things the fox had already come to expect, and he could but accept with his young heart that heard too much, yet understood too little.

Yet when the silence returned and the only sounds left were the heavy breaths of his elder, and the only motion left was the heaving of his chest, the fox still stayed, fixed as stone where he sat, as if listening for the hidden secrets of the spoken words. And then the little fox thought and reflected and thought evermore on the life of the mysterious wolf whom he called father, though for as long as he could remember, his questions always yielded responses without answers.

But still, he wished to try- as he longed to know- perhaps because he felt that if he knew more, then he would finally comprehend the truth which eluded him so. And that was why he now got up- slowly and silently, careful not to disturb the other's sleep. He inched with uttermost care until at last, he was by his elder's side. And then silently, he whispered his questions, as if only if the wolf was asleep could they ever hope to be answered.

"Who are you, father? And who am I?"

Suddenly, the fox flinched and almost shied away when the lupine smiled softly.

"Only your heart knows the true person whom you are, son. And even after all those years, I hardly even know myself. The person whom I once was died a long, long time ago, on the battlefield which claimed so many lives, and ever so many more souls. You are still young. But perhaps, the time has come for you to go and try to find the person whom you truly are, before all fades away into nothingness. And names- names don't matter, for as long as the heart sees, then all shall be clear. Do you understand?"

"Yes, father. I understand," the little fox mumbled, too surprised to say anything more. Yet though he understood what each word meant, he could not piece together their meaning.

After a brief moment of silence, the wolf spoke again. "Son, do you know why I wear these shades?" The fox only shook his head in confusion, but the other continued, as if expecting the answer.

"The light of the world is too bright for me to bear. So I must hide under this veil of darkness, to delude my own self and believe that at last, I have forgotten. That is because the road which I had chosen lead to the wrong path, and this… is what I've become today." And then, he smiled again, this time sadly. The young one's eyes grew wide in shock as the lupine slowly pulled off his shades, and carefully did he do so- as if he were too afraid to look at the world without that translucent barrier.

"Look me in the eyes, son," said the wolf, pulling the other close. And for the first time in his life, the fox looked into the eyes of the only one he had ever known. And he gasped as he beheld- two orbs that were as dull and grey as stone, where the sun reflected off like fragments of shattered glass. Suddenly, the vulpine realized that he knew his elder no more- and in his shock and fear, he bolted from where he stood and began to run.

He ran and ran and ran, away from the porch, away from the barren field of dead leaves which led from the place he once called home, stumbling on dead twigs and rocks hidden beneath the remnants of the glorious summer. His body, so used to being slow and infinitely careful, knew no longer what to do- and soon, he was out of breath. When at last, he looked back, he could still see the faint silhouette of the wolf sitting in that chair on the back porch of an old, ancient house. His head was turned away as if he had never seen- or rather, never looked, and his body seemed limp, as if it had never moved before. But none of that mattered anymore; to the fox, he had now become a complete stranger. And again, the fox ran blindly- on and on and on, until he was so exhausted that he collapsed, by the side of a road which he had never seen before, in a city which he had never known.

"Who am I?" he whispered hoarsely, but this time, nothing answered except for the roars of traffic, unlike the soft whispers of the leaves which he had known since he could remember. Suddenly, as his senses slowly returned, he apprehended something cool and smooth in his hand like glass. Which a shaking paw, he held it up- and beheld the sun shining grey through tempered glass. Then slowly, subconsciously, he put them on- and the grey sun continued smiling down comfortingly down at the tranquil grey world.

Before he knew it, the fox was up again- running, but this time with much more ease, with long, easy, bounding strides- for a reason which he did not know. When he looked back, he was surprised to see that the city and the road were gone, replaced by a vast and barren land which he knew was dull and grey and dreary even without the veil of shades. All of a sudden, pain came rushing through his senses- his shoulders began to ache, his legs screaming out in protest as he ran on again, pushed by some invisible force though he still knew not what it was. He continued on blindly, until abruptly, he fell.

Something red and warm streaked across his vision, and the fox realized that it was blood- someone else's, or was it his own? Suddenly, he heard a sound of laughing- not the soft laugh of his elder, but instead, a harsh, cruel, mocking sound that did not seem to belong in the world he knew. And the voice was sneering at him- was it because he fell? It was a sound so strange and foreign, but it sounded all too familiar- where had he heard it before? And a pain- another pain, not the screams of his battered body, but another pain- cut across his heart, filling his soul with something he had never felt before- but at once, he understood it as sorrow and anguish, though his mind did not register why.

Suddenly, he felt his shades being whisked away, and he stared up into the sky, where the clouds loomed impending upon the world, mocking, laughing that cruel, horrible laugh impaling his soul. And then, he felt himself falling- falling from this world, this place, this horrible place- and into light -was it that of the sun?- that shone too brightly. And then, at last, after all those years…

...he finally understood.

This story is actually very, very confusing... so if you really don't get it, then tell me and I'll try explain! Or if you'd like, please tell me what you understood from it!