Nothing is Black and White

(I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but the original characters in this novel belong to me.

This fanfic is rated R due to some violence, language, and adult themes

Thanks.)

Nothing is Black and White

The curtains moved like a field of dancing daisies as the crisp autumn air gently slipped into the small bedroom bringing with it the scent of freshly baked bread and wet cement. Each sway of fabric offered the children a momentary glimpse of the world outside: It was made of roof tops, chimneys, and pigeons blanketed under a black sky. Just to the left of the window was a young boy drawing a smiling, stick-figure family on the off-yellow wall.

The boy had shaggy, blackish-brown hair and determined hazel-green eyes. He wore a white shirt with red sleeves and blue jeans that looked as if they had seen better days. Behind him sat a girl barely five years of age wearing a pink and white dress and playing with a stack of lettered blocks. The girl’s hair was a much lighter color of brown and held up by a pair of pink bows. Her eyes were much greener than her brother’s but shared that same sense of resolve.

Music and hushed conversation drifted in through the open door, their mother and father were discussing ‘issues’ again. Neither child fully understood what that meant, but knew well enough to stay in their room.

There was a sudden crash of wood and a startled screams. The little girl immediately ran to her brother’s side, nearly tripping over her blocks as she went. The boy pulled her to him and stared wide-eyed at the open door and listened to the obvious struggle occurring just down the hall. Their mother appeared at the door, her long black hair was matted with something wet and there was a dazed look in her beetle-black eyes.

“The closet,” she hissed to them in Japanese, “now!” The boy quickly obeyed, pulling his little sister with him. The sister attempted to cry, but the boy covered her mouth and held her in place. They watched the shadowy depths of the closet as their mother moved towards the window only to stop as a man clad complete in black slipped in.

“You should not have run away,” said a deep voice in Japanese.

Their mother turned to face the door where unseen man stood. “You would have killed him!” She cried out, “I could not allow it!”

The man stepped through and peered down at the shaking woman. He was a fearsome looking man made completely of metal and spikes. “He would have died either way.” He replied, “And now… you will too.”

“No!” The boy screamed out, bursting forth from the closet and ran straight for his mother. “No! No! N-…” A silvery metal fist collided with the side of the boy’s face, knocking him to the wall. He groaned and slumped to the ground.

“Please…” The mother whispered as she stood there staring at her son with tear-filled eyes, “Do not do this…”

“You should not have run.” The man in metal repeated, and pushed his sword through her stomach. The woman breathed in, stared up at her killer, and slid off of his blade and to her death.

“Master…” said one of the men in black, “The boy?”

“I want no witnesses,” he replied and stepped out of the room. The man in black obediently grabbed the child, hoisting the boy over his shoulder and followed his master out of the room.

It was several hours before the police found the little girl hiding in the closet.

Wow. You write beautifully. I can't wait to read the next chapter!

(Thanks! this is technically connected to the first chapter, so I thought I'd get it up quick!)

It was foolish for him to attempt to reach the Realm of Dreams without the help of a guide. Now that he was finally there, he didn’t know how to get back! Feeling hopelessly lost, he stood in the middle of the vast desert and stared at the dark vortex that swirled above him. In the distance, he saw a massive rock floating several hundred feet above the ground and just beyond it was something that he could only describe as a ‘flying river of stars’.

The river sparkled, giving off a light purely its own. He would have found it beautiful, if the wanderer had not been worried about his children. Below the river and at ground level he spotted something else: the silhouette of another person. Relief spread over him like water, he was not alone; and then, he heard the crying.

It took him only a few minutes to reach her, but it felt like hours. He was shocked to see it was merely a child: a girl just a little younger than his own sons. She wore pig tails held up by pink bows with a matching pink and white dress. The little girl continued to cry, holding something to her chest.

The wanderer could sense the power seeping from the child, it was frightening. This was no ordinary spirit. Common sense told him turn and walk away, but the father in him urged him forward. “Why do you cry, child?” He finally asked.

The little girl let out a gasp and stared up at him with wide, green eyes. “A rat!” she exclaimed.

Much to his surprise, she spoke in Japanese. “Yes, I am a rat and I am here to help.” he quickly replied, and repeated his question. “Why do you cry, child?” The girl sniffed and sobbed, holding out her hands to reveal a round, leathery egg. She then pointed to a hole in the ground surrounded by tracks.

“A doggie ate them! I tried to stop it, but...” The child began to cry again. He gently pulled her into a hug, letting her sit in his lap and rest her little head against his shoulder. “Okaasan is gone…” She said between tears, still clutching the egg to her chest, “I am all alone.”

The rat could not begin to fathom what could have happened to the girl’s mother, but he did not dare to ask. Instead he focused on the egg within her hands. He supposed he should not have been surprised to find that the egg was nothing more than an extension of the child. It was a little piece of her that had yet to be born. In the Realm of Dreams, things happened differently. “And yet, you are not alone.” The child sniffed, staring up at the rat with a quizzical look. “You have the egg,” He went on, “And someday, it will hatch: if you let it. You are not alone.”

She stared down at the egg, clutching it to her chest. “When will it hatch?”

“I do not know. There are many things I do not yet know.” He admitted, feeling foolish. “I do not know how to get home.”

This seemed to confuse the girl, “How can you be lost, do you not see?”

“I do not understand. What is it I do not see?” She slid out of the rat’s lap and pointed behind him. He turned to see a long, thin string of mist coming from somewhere behind him and disappearing over the horizon.

“It will lead you home.”

“How can you know this?” asked the rat as he stood up.

“I do not know,” replied she, “there are many things I do not yet know.”

Amazed, amused, and grateful he bowed to her, “Thank you, Child.”

She smiled, still holding the egg close to her heart, “Thank you, Rat. Bye-bye!” It took the rat but a few steps to make it home…

The familiar sounds and scents filled his senses along with the sound of familiar crying. The rat opened his eyes to see his sons sitting about him in tears. “Why do you cry, children?”

The four young turtles raised their heads, joy filling their faces: “Father!”

Wow! Just, wow!

I would love more reviews, if anyone else has any opinions?

Wow...the way you describe things...it´s like I´m actually there... This is great. Excellent work!

I can imagine the events so clearly in my head, it's like I'm really there! YOu, my friend, are a writing GENIUS!!!

Lieutenant Sterns of the New York City Police moved quickly down the sterile white hallway, side stepping only once to avoid colliding with a wandering child. After six months of no leads, it looked as if the police were finally catching a break: little Miranda Tezlov, the sole witness to the brutal murders of her family, had finally broken out of her shell. The doctors were absolutely flabbergasted: after months of simply staring off into space, the girl suddenly began to play with a set of blocks!

There were a few setbacks, however, and the main one was standing directly in front of the girl's door. Her name was Esmeralda Dearheart and she was a tall, exceedingly slender social worker who always wore her hair up into a tight bun. She offered Sterns an icy glare that could have stopped the fires of Pompeii. He couldn't help but think that there was nothing endearing about Miss Esme's heart. "Sergeant Sterns." She stated stiffly as she reached him, "I see your girth has widened."

Sterns gnashed his teeth together. It was all he could do to keep his rage from exploding forth. "So nice of you to notice," He replied, matching her tone, "How's the kid?"

The woman harrumphed, tilting her head upwards to peer down her at him. "Do you truly care, or do you simply wish to question her? Anything she says wouldn't stand in court, and you know it."

"Believe it or not Miss Dearheart, but there is a lot of evidence that never reaches the jurors' eyes. Now, are you goin' to let me in, or am I goin' to have to show you the warrant?" Oh yes, Sterns had come prepared. He had fully expected for Esmeralda Dearheart to try and deny him access to Miranda Tezlov, and he could see in her eyes that the woman had not expected this card. "You see, Miss Dearheart, there are some very strong allegations goin' around and that little girl is perhaps the only one that can really debunk them. Even if I can't get anything valid for the court, it will progress this investigation further than you realize." Because: ninjas didn't really exist; at least, they didn't exist in the way those cartoons and movies would have you to believe. The entertainment industry had glorified them into heroes fighting for honor when they were nothing more than obedient assassins. They did the same thing with pirates.

The woman stared at the man for a long moment and then smiled, "Very well then, if you really think it will assist in your investigation." She stepped to the side, allowing him entry into the room. Unsure how to react to her sudden change in attitude, Sergeant Sterns opened the door and walked in. It looked like a psychologist's office, complete with its own lay-down couch. A man stood at the side window, staring into what appeared to be a playroom. He was a man of average height and short, messy black hair that had been gently frosted with age that wore a grey wool 2-button sport coat over a blue t-shirt and wrinkled black slacks and unpolished black oxfords. Sterns hated him immediately; no one should be able to pull off that look.

The man turned to meet the two with a big smile that only added to his strangely charismatic appearance. "Miss Dearheart, it's good to see you again!" He said cheerfully, and offered his hand to Sterns. "You must be Lieutenant Sterns. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Sure," Sterns replied, shaking the man's hand. "You're Mr. Whitmore, the child psychologist."

"That's right," Mr. Whitmore continued to smile and motioned to the window. Little Miranda Tezlov was sitting alone playing with a pair of dolls. Seeing the little girl playing sent a sense of tingling relief down Stern's shoulders, the girl was going to be all right. "She's been deeply traumatized; it's going to take her a long time to recover."

"What? The girl looks happy! She's playin' with dolls and everythin'!"

"Initial appearances can always be deceiving, Lieutenant Sterns." Whitmore's smile melted into a frown.

"What did she tell you?" Esme asked keeping her stern gaze on the child.

"She didn't tell me anything." He replied, his frown deepening. "But just a few minutes ago, she made a 'Transformer' stab one of the dolls and then threw the boy doll across the room."

Sterns rubbed his forehead, unable to understand what he was hearing. "A 'Transfomer'?"

"More specifically, 'Megatron'." Whitmore furrowed his brows, "We have a bunch of the 'Transformer' toys."

"Never heard of them."

"It's a cartoon." Esme replied with a snort, "The boys love it."

"All my daughter watches is 'My Little Pony'." Sterns, who never understood the appeal of cartoons, muttered. "What makes 'Megatron' different than the other robots?"

"'Transformers'." Whitmore corrected helpfully.

"Whatever."

"He's the leader of the 'Decepticons'; he's that metal one over there." Whitmore pointed to the robot lying near the girl. "Do you think it means anything?"

"Sure. It means the girl watches too much T.V." Sterns replied, but he couldn't write anything off just yet. "You got a video of it?"

"Absolutely."

"Good, I'm going to want a copy…"

Whitmore seemed a little confused, "If you think it can further the investigation…"

"At this point, Mr. Whitmore, I'll accept anythin'." Sterns reached into his pocket and pulled out a brass cigar holder, "If you find anythin' else, let me know."

"Of course," he nodded cooperatively, "If you say so."

"Thanks, now if you will excuse me, I've got a bit more work to do." Sterns pulled out a cigar and nodded to the two before exiting the office.

"Do you think I should have told him she only speaks Japanese?" Whitmore asked, turning to watch the child. She had abandoned the dolls and as now playing with the dinosaurs.

"Perhaps," Esmeralda admitted, "But he'll figure it out soon enough."

This is amazing! I can't wait for more!

Wow...great story! I like it, and you've got a real talent for pulling all the strings in a story together too. It will be interesting to see how the story unfolds

Look whoever u are keep writing or I'll find u and tickle u until u do.....GOT IT? *gives u the evil eye*

Wow your amazing i love your stories they make me fell like i was there in the moment witnessing it all

I'm still working on this, I haven't given up. Thank you for all your support.

there arn't anywords to put togther how great this story no fabulous no terrific no wonderful no excellent no wait what about ferrderllent! yes your story is ferrderllent! i loved it! i can't wait for the next bit. (i like the ending of that last post)

Thanks.

I'm a little stuck rightnow, I can't decide who to write about next: Sterns or Miranda.

oh um well who do you think needs to be explained right now the depths of Miranda's mind or Sterns feelings somtimes its a good filler but it can help with later in the story but i'm only 12 so you don't have to take my advice