Whispering Hope is a drama story that tells the tale of three young cats.
Content warning: lots of philosophical thinking about death and pain
Chapter 1 Edit
Wind. It rustles through the forest. It tears through the leaves. And it freezes everything. It froze my heart.
My name is Dusklight. I am a cripple.
There was a storm. There was no rain. There was no thunder. There was no lightening. There was only wind. There was a battle. There was no winner. There was no end. And there was no hope.
My littermates are dead. All of them apart from one.
My mother is prejudiced. She never sees past what hurt her before.
My father doesn't exist. Not to me.
And on the night of the battle I was useless.
My mother fought for the kits she lost. For the mate she had for one day. And for the death of my sister. For me.
I watched. I saw my father, fighting beside her. He looked like me. He looked like her. But most of all he looked like my sister.
No one knew she had left. Not until the battle. Not until the battle after the gathering.
No one missed her. Instead they rejoice. They rejoice for the ridding of a murderer. Yes. My sister is a murderer to them. To them she murdered our littermates. To them she killed three cats. To them, she crippled me.
I don't know her name anymore. I can't remember. I can't remember anything now. The memories are all gone with the wind.
My name is Dusklight. I am a cripple. And I should have taken her place.
Chapter 2 Edit
It's all I feel now. It's all I have felt. it's all I will feel. And it is my world.
My name is Darkstream. I should be dead.
I should have been killed that night.
No one knew I was watching. No one knew I was gone. They didn't care. They hated me. Especially my mother.
Her name is Suncloud. She is prejudiced. She believes what is wrong. She believes everything that is wrong about me.
My sister is a cripple. They say it's because of me. She is one of the reasons my mother hates me. She is one of the reasons I have so many scars.
My littermates are dead. Gone. They say it's because of me. They say I murdered them. They say I murdered them as a kit.
My father is dead. he doesn't exist. They say I murdered him too.
They say I'm a murderer. That I killed seven cats.
They don't have proof. neither do I. But they chose to believe them instead.
No one believed that I was innocent. Nobody believes it. And nobody will believe it.
I never told them the truth. Mapleshade told me to keep it a secret. That suffering like this would make me stronger. And she was right. Now I am scarred for life.
And on the night of the battle I saw her. My mother. She was fighting for my littermates. She was fighting for my father. She was fighting for my sister. But most of all she was fighting for my death.
I saw my father, fighting beside her. Starlight shimmered at his paws. He looked like my mother. He looked like my sister. But most of all he looked like me.
I have scars. Scars I have never healed from. Scars on my heart. Scars that would remain there for life.
And I went in. No one noticed. Not even her. Not even my mother, until I slit her throat.
My name is Darkstream. I am a murderer. I should be dead.
Chapter 3 Edit
My name is Flower. I hate my name.
Where I am, prettiness gets you nowhere.
Only the strong survive. I am one of them.
Swift says that some day I won't be known for prettiness. That I was stronger than my sister. I agreed with her. But I didn't tell her that I still loved her. That I still love my sister.
Her name was Moon. And she was beautiful. It's why she left. She was too soft, Swift says. She wasn't strong like me.
I never knew my father. Only his name. He was called Oak. And he fell illegally in love.
I don't have a mother. I had Fern, and Silver before that. They both said her name was Nightwillow. That she was a clan cat. A beautiful clan cat.
We were a mistake. Moon, and me. We shouldn't have been born.
Swift said she was a mistake too. She was once hopeful and ambitious. A young cat with a great future. And then she fell in love- her greatest mistake, she said. she never told me anything else about her. Only that she was dead, but she came back for revenge. And that I would be part of it.
No one knows she's alive. Just us. She trains me, in secret. And I do my best to hide the wounds from training.
We don't have Healers in the syndicate. Not under Yew's rule. Only the strong survive. Only they pull through. One of them happened to be me.
I didn't know how it happened.
All I remember was eating that rabbit. It hurt inside, and when Swift came to train, I was clumsy. I stumbled. I failed. But she didn't mind. She said I was strong enough to train. That afterwards she would train me especially hard. And that's when she cut me open.
It was too large to hide. The cramping, it was inside. No one could see, however painful. But this, this too long. And so I became a perisher.
I hated those days.
I hated feeling like that.
I hated the thought of being weak and dependent on others.
But most of all I hated how they laughed- how they told me that I could never be a guard. How she-cats - pretty ones especially- would never survive.
And I tried- I did. But I'm still here. Still a perisher. Still one of those likely to die. Still useless.
And I can here them. Their laughter. It rings in my head, over and over.
I claw myself each time I hear it. It reminds it of how I would survive this. It reminds me that I wasn't just pretty. But it still doesn't convince me.
My name is Flower. I hate my name. I hate everything. But most of all I hate myself.
Chapter 4 Edit
They’re gone. Memories. All gone.
I can’t remember anything.
I can’t remember my sister
I can’t remember her name
I can’t remember who she is
I can’t, because I can’t remember who I am
I can’t remember how she left
I can’t remember what she did
I can’t remember anything- anything about her.
All I can is a look.
One look she gave me. she’s blurred, but I see her. But I can’t see her. I can only feel her. But I remember her eyes. her eyes, like the grass in newleaf.
I wish I could see them again. I wish I could see those eyes. I wish I could see her. I wish she could come back. But even if she comes back, I can’t see her.
I’m blind to the world.
Chapter 5 Edit
(Darkstream) my world is dark. My world is cold. My world is nothing. There is nothing to be remembered.
My life is in a hole.
I try everything to forget it.
I try everything to lose myself
I try everything.
I try everything to die.
I ran through thorns. My blood cries, my fur snags.
I ran into a fox’s nest. He breaks me. He tears at me.
I ran up a tree. I close my eyes. I turn. I fall.
I ran. I ran from life. And I’m still running.
but I never die.
I hear them whispering. I hear them whispering, whispering secrets that I will never hear. I hear them whispering thoughts.
It drives me mad. It drives me to kill again. It drives me to run. To run from life.
And I am glad. I am glad, because when I die, I will be rid of the pain.
Chapter 6 Edit
I don’t know why.
I don’t know why I’m alive.
I don’t know why I’m alive, but not living.
I don’t know where that yearning to live has gone.
I don’t know why I can’t feel anything
I don’t know why anything happens.
I don’t know why Swift never comes.
I don’t know why I’m still here.
I don’t know why.
I don’t know. I don’t know who I am now.
But I know that I will live. I will live on.
If I want to die, I can never die. if I don’t want to die, I always do.
I can’t change it.
Where did the clumsiness escape to?
where did all that failure go?
How did I come to this?
I should be proud.
I should be proud that I beat her.
I should be proud that she thinks I’m finished.
But I think I killed her.
Now I’m a murderer.
Now I’ve killed two cats, my mother and my mentor.
Now I’m nothing.
But I always was nothing.
I will be nothing.
And I remain nothing. I remain what I was.
And I am still nothing.
Chapter 7 Edit
She is here. She is here, in my dreams. Dreams are the only time and place I am normal. When I know who I am. When I can remember.
I can see her. Her dark gray fur, every marking heart-achingly familiar. Her single white paw. Her tail, slightly off center after Suncloud wrenched it.
And her eyes. I saw her eyes again.
That night, I saw her eyes again.
She doesn't say anything.
I didn't know if she even saw me
I didn't know if she knew I was there.
But I didn't care. All that mattered was that I saw her again.
The wind must have read my thoughts.
It took her away.
She is only a shadow
She is a pile of ash.
And the instant she left, I remembered her name.
Chapter 8 Edit
I used to think dying meant all the pain left you.
Now I know that pain is eternal.
For some, dying is sorrow. It means pain. It means nevermore.
But I thought I knew what it is.
It must be so peaceful.
It must be so free.
It must be a hundred times better than where I am now.
Only I know what it is now
It is nothing.
You might change
You might be a different form.
You depend on memories.
And I have none.
Which is why I must die.
Because if I die, I will turn into oblivion.
If I die, no one will remember me.
If I die, I don't have to stay.
If I die, I'd be free.
Chapter 9 Edit
I am still here.
If I was nothing, I'd be dead.
So why am I here?
What am I doing?
If I was nothing in death, then why am I still alive?
If I was alive, then why am I not living?
I didn't think about it anymore.
If I wasn't dead, I would be soon
The pain was taking over.
Only one sunrise ago I had forced myself to choke down the rat.
If I was to suffer, what better way would there be than to die in pain?
I'd get what I'd want.
Isn't it funny how your wish and your worst nightmare can exist together?
I waited for the darkness to envelope me.
The rat seemed like it was still alive, gnawing hard at my belly.
It seemed like it wanted to escape.
It seemed like it wanted to die too.
And it would get its wish.
Chapter 10 Edit
My name is Dusklight. I am a cripple. I can no longer remember. I am blind to the world
My name is Darkstream. I am a murderer. I run from life. I should be dead.
My name is Flower. I hate my name. I seek death. I hate myself.
We are different
yet we are the same.
We view death as peace.
And so we wish to die.
We have nothing to live for.
There is no hope.
This isn't a tale for kits.
No one is remembered.
Nothing can be replaced.
Nowhere has warmth.
And there is never hope.
Whispers come and go.
They tell of stories.
They tell secrets.
They tell tales.
They tell of hope.
But only whispers.