October 31st, 1993.
A teen walks the streets of their town. They occasionally join up with groups of other kids their age, even if they’re strangers. Their voluminous orange hair lends itself well to their costume, an overall-clad good guy doll. Their phone buzzes, a call from their mom. It’s urgent. She calls them by a name nobody will remember, her voice vibrating with a frenzied excitement. After 15 years, their brother has returned home.
November 3rd, 1993.
They’ve planned this day for over a year, the day they reinvent themselves. Fully clothed, they stand in the shower, bleaching their hair. The bleach runs over their overalls, which have become a regular accessory, draining the denim of its blue color. With more considerable care than the bleach, they run the royal purple dye through their hair. Vash feels angry that their brother knew them before this moment.
By the time their parents wake, Vash has already run far enough away that they won’t ever catch up. Sometimes having friends scattered all about the country has its bonuses, mainly being able to find a place to stay free of charge wherever you go.
December 23rd, 1993.
Vash’s birthday, their brother’s too, apparently. Identical twins, though not so identical anymore. What is meant to be a shared party quickly turns into just the brother’s birthday. When they dream that night, Vash feels a great pressure, they know it is their brother’s fault.
No matter where they end up sleeping, be it a couch or an air mattress or a guest room, their dreams always feature a great eye watching them from
the sky; no matter the events that transpire, its pressure is always there.
October 31, 1996.
A friend from their hometown links Vash to a news story. The house they grew up in, decrepit and rotting. A dark ooze flows from the second floor bedroom, their mother’s room. The son of this family disappeared shortly before this incident occurred, whatever the incident might have been. The police have no leads as to his whereabouts. Vash always knew there was something wrong with that boy. This was an inevitability, a consequence of his existence.
5/1/96
when I went to sleep, I realized how tired I was of that fucking eye. I hate the way it makes me go through my dreams however it wants, so I decided to finally kill it or something similar. I went to sleep, I looked up at it and started walking towards it, through the sky. I reached it, but kept walking, right past it and out of where it could see, into this massive empty plane. without its supervision, I could do whatever I wanted here, no consequences whatsoever. a similar change happens in the waking world, but not to the same extent.
12/31/96
I moved into my dorm recently, getting into a university was tough since I didn’t finish high school and have no personal records, but I’m good with figuring things like that out. I’ve got the whole dorm to myself. Two friends of mine that live nearby are coming over for a small new-years party. I'm wearing my acid wash overalls for old times sake. I would say that wearing them makes me feel like a kid again but in all reality I feel freer than I ever was as a kid. my name is Sacha Vash, I’m 19, and I can do whatever the hell I want.