>You are Samantha Garlen, 18-years-old, a brown Mini-Rex rabbit dressed in your brother's baggy hoodie and jeans, with a baseball bat strapped to your back, pretending to be a super hero of your own creation called Samurai Outlaw
>Samurai Outlaw is tough
>Samurai Outlaw is a loose cannon who plays for the good guys, but by her own rules
>Samurai Outlaw is collected and at ease among criminals, being one herself
>That is, of course, the character Samurai Outlaw
>You are Samantha 'Sam' Garlen
>And tonight, you die
>You feel the muzzle of your father's old pistol pressed into your back as he marches you down the hill behind the old white oak door church
>Towards the set of railroad ties
>Your friends huddle together at the top of the hill, helplessly watching as you're marched to your death
>They could call the police, but they'd never get here in time
>They could try rushing your dad
>But they'd end up getting shot
>"There's gonna be an accident tonight," your dad whispers. His breath is hot and salty in your sensitive ears, sending shivers up your spine
>You know the spine-crawling feeling well
>“Going to put an end to you, boy."
>The train whistle sounds off again, and your dad starts laughing as the shakes hit you
>"You hear that? That train? I bet you wish you were dead right now, you coward little kid."
>"SAM!" Anon shouts. “DON'T LET HIM DO THIS!"
>You're almost to the tracks now, the gun firmly in the small of your back
>You try to keep a steady voice. “I-I-It's okay," you call up to Anon. “I-I'll be okay."
>Your gut sinks with each word
>Dad doesn't seem to hear you
>Or if he does, he doesn't care
>That train is so close now
>So loud and clear
>Gliding down the tracks, snaking around corners and bends, pulling its innocuous cargo down the ties
>The apprehension and waiting for death is the worst, part, you think
>Death can't be that bad
>It's everything leading up to it that makes your whole body shake violently
>You lift your heavy feet as you cross over onto the tracks
>Dad stands you upright
>"Remember these tracks? This is where I lost my son. That's right. These fucking rails, down at the pits where you faggots would go play." Dad draws out the word 'faggots.' “These rails got blood on 'em. And it ain't the old rail car yard, but this'll do nicely. You're going to pay back your debt tonight. Blood for blood."
>You feel like puking again
>Dad towers over you, ignoring the baseball bat pressed against your back
>You stare dead ahead, eyes wide
“I-I remember J-J-Jacob t-t-too," you say. “I-I-I re-remember h-h-how he l-looked out f-f-for me, a-and how much-"
>What you say doesn't matter anymore
>You're just speaking to the empty void at this point
“-How much l-like y-you he w-was. B-But he was b-better than y-y-you."
>Dad digs the gun a little deeper into your back
>"I know why you remember him like that — you were always hidin' behind him when trouble came 'round. You always 'been a burden to everyone."
>He leans in real close to your ears, ignoring the bat strapped to your back
>"I bet he hated you."
>You go stiff all over
“T-That's not true…" you say
>What if he did hate you?
>You always held onto the idea that he had mixed emotions and feelings towards you
>But it wasn't outright disdain and hate
>You were a coward weakling, but were you really worthy of his hate?
>Your thoughts blur and coalesce together as the train whistle blows again
>It's so close now
>"Of course it's true. He HATED you." The way Dad says 'hated' is sharp enough to cut your throat. “We all hated you. All you've ever been is a coward and a burden."
>You struggle against him
>"A drain on everyone. You ate our food and slept under our roof. But you ain't even a guest. Just a liability. And you ain't got nobody. Not even family."
>He roots in you place with a rough hand that digs into your fur
“N-No, I h-ha-have f-f-friends now-"
>"THEM?" Dad jerks his head towards the top of the hill, where Anonymous, Mike, Jenna and Alex watch — helpless
>"They're not your friends. They probably hate you too."
“They do-don't!" You cry in your strongest voice. “T-They c-c-care about me!"
>Tears spring to your eyes
>You wish you could stop your throat from tightening
>Where is your composure?
>Do you really want to die like a crying, sissy bitch?
>"They don't like you. They feel /bad/ for you. You're damaged goods anyway. Not my son, not my daughter, not anyone's friend. Just my burden. That's all you are."
>…
>He's right, isn't he?
>They don't like you at all
>In fact, they've never liked you
>All those moments of cold callousness, avoiding you, ignoring you, all the whispered jokes and idle hatred
>The way they treated you
>The names they called you
>Always looking after you like you were some kind of…
>… Burden
>Even Anon didn't like you
>Especially at first
>But… He saved you from this life
>He looked out for you
>He put his lips on yours and kissed you like he meant it
>From the rotten crevices of your brain — where all the abuse lives — comes a voice, one that's not entirely your own
>'People don't change.'
>'He'll take what he wants from you, and then leave.'
>A cold wind rushes past you, and all you can do is gawk into the darkness, staring at that bend like the condemned stares down the gallows
>Soon death would come charging around that corner
>Unless…
“I-I'll go h-h-home w-w-with you… I'll n-never ta-talk to anyone ag-agin. I'll d-d-do wh-whatever you wa-want. J-Ju-Just let go-" your pleading voice is swallowed up by another, closer train whistle
>Dad braces his broad back against the wind
>"Don't you get it? You're not going home. And you're not dodging this train — not that you could in the first place. I told you: I'm going to put an end to this bloodline. Right here. On these tracks."
>Your body goes cold, and then slackens into his rough grip, like you were throwing yourself into a big bed that you'd never climb out of
>So that's how it's gonna be?
>You feel his own hold on you loosen as he steps back
>And then
>The hollowed tip of the gun at the back of your head
>"Now get down on your knees," he commands. “Right here, on these tracks. Where you robbed me."
>You obediently drop to your knees
>"You miss your brother?" He says. You can tell by the strain in his voice — he does too
>"You'll see him again soon."
>The train tears around the bend, its forward-facing lights throwing yours and Dad's shadows down the strip of tracks
>The conductor rips on the horn
>And everything goes quiet
>The familiar squeal of the brakes
>The train as it rolls down the ties
>The blast of the horn
>Even the blustering wind
>All gone
>And soon, you will be too
>It ends how it began, you guess
>Unwanted
>"WHAT WOULD SAMURAI OUTLAW DO!?"
>Like a brick through a window, Anon's voice reaches your ears, scattering shards of quiet all over your addled mind
>Things register in your blunted senses:
>The train barreling down the tracks
>The wind
>Your father's momentary distraction
>And Anon
>His voice so scared for you, so desperate, scarring his own throat so that he can be heard against the roar of the train and the cut of the wind
>What would Samurai Outlaw do?
>Samurai Outlaw would rise to her feet despite the wind blasting back her hood, her piercing amber eyes fixed dead ahead, catching the glow like a bowl
>Samurai outlaw pours light on everything
>Samurai Outlaw would — quick as a whip — spin to face her nemesis, drawing her signature baseball bat as she moves
>In one single motion, she'd swing her bat
>And she'd swing with years of pent up rage, with the rawness of life singing through her adrenaline-clogged veins
>She'd swing as if her very life depended on it, as if her bat could rip galaxies apart and separate light from dark
>She'd swing like she was blasting through a thrown beer bottle out in front of a church, surrounded by friends
>That swing would connect with hurricane force against her foe's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip
>There'd be tremendous flash of light as the gun went off, barking at the tip with a spray of fire
>But the bullet would fly past her right ear, damaging her hearing
>That's exactly what Samurai Outlaw did, that night
>And you are Samurai Outlaw
>You are Sam again
>Your Dad, having just had his gun knocked from his hand, leaps upon you as the ground starts to quake with the approach of the train, like water might shake during an earthquake
>The back of your head knocks against one of the wooden ties on the tracks, dazing you
>From the corners of your vision you can see your friends rushing down the hill towards you, shouting, waving their arms to try and get the train to stop
>But it won't stop
>It can't stop
>And Dad knows this
>"IT'LL BE BOTH OF US!" He roars at you, his coarse voice barely above the train's own clattering
>"BURDEN!" His hands find your throat
>"THIEF" He squeezes tight, wrapping around you like a noose
>Your eyes shoot open as you feel your last breath trapped in your chest screaming to get out
>Your tiny hands shoot towards his wrists to pry them away
>His grip is too formidable, too practiced and too full of hatred
>There'll be no dodge this time, not from either of you
>"COWARD!"
>That's what Jacob used to call you
>Coward
>What else did Jacob say?
>Your mind blurs back as your vision starts to collapse, cold, dark stars clouding the corners of your eyes — oblivion creeping into your sight
>Your whole body is shaking, tossed about from the rumble of the train, the adrenaline, and the fear
>Spittle starts boiling out of your mouth as your eyes roll upwards
>Even with the train bearing down, something quiet — yet sharp — returns to you
>Jacob's voice comes back to you like a distant and fading echo emanating in the back of your skull
>Some memory from when you were a child
>Filling a sock with gravel
>Your brother standing over you with his bat, saying:
>>"Even if you're a girl, you just gotta hit a wolf in the nose, and they're down. Humans, aim for the shins. That's all you have to worry about. Rabbits? Right in the chest."
>You pull your formidable legs underneath you as dad presses furious rings into your neckline
>You aim your feet upwards…
>The train blasts its horn, deafening your other ear
>…And rocket your kick upwards, as if you were punting the moon itself
>Your blow connects directly with Dad's ribcage
>His grip on you goes slack as his body registers the pain
>You pull in gulps of cold air, rejuvenating your body and lungs, feeling as if you'd been drowning inside your own skin
>Dad's lungs suck inward and his face twists up with shock
>Then his eyes squeeze shut as his arms bend and shoot towards his chest
>Like a giant building collapsing, he drops forward, not unconscious, but stunned enough to give that impression
>Still coughing, you roll off the tracks
>A final dodge
>At the perfect moment
>You raise your head — covered in burrs and scrub grass — and look towards the tracks
>Dad is propping himself up on his palms, coughing
>He turns his head towards you as the full brunt of the train's headlights hit him, outlining his ragged shape in black and gold
>He opens his mouth to speak one final cruelty
>And then in a blur of steel and the clanging of horns, he's gone
>As the train rolls on
>You hear muffled sounds all around you, feel the cold of the wind against your fur, ripping through you like you were full of holes
>All you can do is stare and listen to the sharp ringing that pierces the wall of nothing clouding your senses…
>…And stare at the train, winding by in the night, like a great metal snake bound on tracks of dirty steel
>He tried to kill you
>Your own dad
>Strangely enough, you don't feel like crying
>Why don't you want to cry?
>Wasn't that your own flesh and blood now smeared across the tracks?
>Or, at the very least, the man who acted as your flesh and blood
>Well, no, you can't say that either
>That devil drunk was no father
>You have nobody
>Except the gentle hands pulling you to your feet
>The concerned, shouting faces of all your friends, the relief so clear in all of them that your throat starts tightening up
>They're hugging you and grabbing at you and speaking to you, but you can't hear a word of what they're saying
>The world is still ringing
>And spinning, too
>The world is spinning faster than you could have ever imagined
>The stars and the swollen moon become a lighted smear across the sky as your legs tremble and give way
>Your eyes glaze over
>The darkness takes hold of you
>The last thing you see is Anon's face as he takes you by the shoulders, his face soft as patted butter
>And when you shut your eyes and surrender to that darkness, you feel your feet swept out from under you, pulled by the gentle current of the unconscious
The Leaves of Fall Act 3: Something That Matters (Part 14)
You've never really 'fit in' with the heavily divided Ranchview High School crowd. Jock, Goth, Prep, Cheerleader, Nerd... you were never any of these. But as Halloween approaches, strange things start happening, and a dark ritual begins with the finding of a curious red book. It's a race against time for you and your friends to stop a group of students from ushering in an age of darkness, and to also figure out just what the hell is wrong with that rabbit.
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About this version: originally, The Leaves of Fall was split into two pastebins to compensate for the length of the story. Given that pastebin has chosen to censor this story for ambiguous reasons, it will forever be stored here and on AO3. This new version contains spelling, grammar and content fixes. Please understand that the content is all the same as the earlier versions minus some sentences being changed and fixed up. I cannot stress this enough: no new content has been added. It's my hope that this is a cleaner, easier-to-read version of the story.
Cover: https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q
Sam (drawn by Akella of /hmofa/) https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT
Fan art collection: https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv
Accompanying playlist (WIP): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J
Alternative link: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078
Total word count: 147,552 words
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
About this version: originally, The Leaves of Fall was split into two pastebins to compensate for the length of the story. Given that pastebin has chosen to censor this story for ambiguous reasons, it will forever be stored here and on AO3. This new version contains spelling, grammar and content fixes. Please understand that the content is all the same as the earlier versions minus some sentences being changed and fixed up. I cannot stress this enough: no new content has been added. It's my hope that this is a cleaner, easier-to-read version of the story.
Cover: https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q
Sam (drawn by Akella of /hmofa/) https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT
Fan art collection: https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv
Accompanying playlist (WIP): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J
Alternative link: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078
Total word count: 147,552 words
4 years ago
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Estimated reading time
11 Minutes
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