Sho, I had another idea for a short fanfiction (surprisingly it's FMA; I say "surprisingly" because I hardly read any FMA fanfiction, but whatever), and I've written the beginning of it. The problem? I dunno if it's any good.

My solution? Post it here to see what others think in order to get it critiqued. Plus I need to know if there are any inconsistencies with the manga. I would check it out myself, but that particular series happens to be at the bottom of a five-foot-high stack of manga in my room. If I try to take them out, there's a VERY good chance that I will be bludgeoned to death by manga. And as amusing as it would be to read the obituaries and see my cause of death being "bludgeoning by manga," I'm not too keen on dying just yet.

So, anyway. This is just the beginning of a fanfic that will eventually attempt to explain Al's obsession with kittens. (It's quite awkward, actually; in my files, it's saved under the title "Kittens~", but the actual beginning of it is rather dark... ) As a warning, it has a pretty gruesome description in its second half (no kittens to see yet, but it's building up to the reason why), and it's also the first draft. If you note any grammar mistakes, please inform me~ (Unless they're sentence fragments. I have a few in there on purpose for effect.)

Rawr. I must focus. ><

Without further ado:

When I first woke up after that day, I realised that something had changed before I had seen the armour, noticed the lack of nerve endings, or noted the strange, echoing quality of the surrounding noises.

My sight was not as it was before. Just focusing on an object allowed me to feel its texture, its colour…

But even this change was not the first I noticed. Laying in what could only be a bed, I was immediately drowned in unexplainable feelings of sorrow, depression, guilt… But they did not originate from me. Behind this waterfall of dark thoughts came fainter feelings of worry, emanating from a lower level of the house.

Movement proved to be more difficult than I had thought. I wanted to look over to find the owner of the bleak thoughts, but my head did not want to move. I told my muscles to flex, almost squinting in concentration… And my concentration seemed to slip, as if it reached a puddle. Instead of straining, I seemed to be pushing against a smooth, concave, unyielding surface. Almost instantly, my head moved as it was supposed to, and I barely restrained a gasp.

But before I could clearly see the owner of the intruding thoughts, I was sucked into what could only be deemed the subject’s memories…

What have I done?

The thought echoed through my head as images rushed past me.

A darkened room lit with swaying candlelight. A barely-visible transmutation circle glowing ominously from the unmarred floor.

What have I created?

A pool of an unidentifiable dark liquid slowly spreading from within the circle. A fork of lightening illuminates the scene, the horrible scene…

A mangled, throbbing knot of flesh thrashes weakly in a claret puddle of its own blood. Bones protrude out of the muscle like white monuments, the bases stained pink. The sound of choked, gurgling respiration reaches my (his?) ears as the thing (Mom?) tries to breathe with its punctured, malformed lungs. Organs glisten wetly in and out of sight as its muscles contract, trying to move the deformed body forward. Blindly-groping arms scratch the floor in a further attempt, jutting out of the mass at unnatural angles. Staring out of that dark, almost human face are tormented, pain-ridden eyes of some cognizant being, knowing that it is an abomination, knowing it is about to die…

One last, shuddering breath racks the tumor of flesh as its warped body gives out, those horrible, all-knowing eyes finally closing without pain.

Yeah, it's kinda cut off in the middle of the flashback-thing... But anyway...

Any suggestions, comments, and/or corrections are welcomed!