Q1 and JB series: The Sight

(Version I)
To see you, anywhere, is a sight. The glory of your eyes, shining behind the hair never dark enough to shed the night of its grave silence, but never loud enough to wake the sun, only like the dusk sky, with your eyes glittering like the stars of twilight. And, he saw you there, right there, through his memory and through his eyes. Right there, with your hair falling across your eyes, twinkling the starlight, twinkling here and there. You are beautiful, too beautiful a sight to see for his eyes, and he bowed in adoration and took your form. You, the man of one world, and he of another, and he came to this world bearing your form, only lighter. Lighter, like the land which he fell from, the land of light and beauty. For you, he cast away his original glory, cast away to fit yours. He took your form like a mirror takes your reflection, almost perfect, but too perfect to be enough. His hair lighter in the shade, his skin more fair, his eye glittering with joy and laughter, and his smile twice as big. Yet, he took your form instead, took that wildness, that rawness, that insanity and that sanity. He took the stars of your eyes to his own, he took the stoutness of your body for his own, he took your instrument of communication for his own, and he took your expressions for your own. Then he fell, fast and faster, and he fell among your world, and there he, with the sight in his memory, there he landed in a country with weird tongues.

He came from the land of the light, and to this land of romance he ended himself. Unexpectedly, as he had originally planned on falling in that brave land where you rose from. Perhaps it is the romance in his head that misguided him, perhaps not. He took your form and fell on this land of romance and forgot who he was or what he was here for. The sight burried itself into his depth and he only remembered vaguely what he is now. He is now MAN, like you, like me, like everyone who sees this.

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(Version II)
He was curious about this mirror in which he could see a difficult reflection of himself. He was curious because this difficult reflection seemed very much like a very taste fruit, but he could not obtain it, being blocked away by the mirror, so he looked on, with a stone in his hand. Now, he remember a dream he had long long ago, some thousands of years before he had pieced it out, a dream of a world filled with these seemingly tasty fruits, fruits which danced, laughed, fought, thought that the fruit is the only civilized creature of the world and spend hours discussing and fussing over very untasty pieces of weird green leave they called money and even more untasty silver pieces they called coins. He didn't entirely understand these fruits, fruits are to be eaten, not to be understood. However, the dream, he recalled upon seeing this particularly lovely fruit in the mirror's reflection, drummed against his skull. Dreams, however intimidating, are not supposed to dream against skulls. He shook his head in attempt to drive away the drumming. The reflection shook its head. The fruit was responding in glee. Shaking and jumping, the fruit copies every action he made, and seemed to enjoy it, despite the horrible anger the drumming has started to cause him. He banged his stone hard on the edge of the mirror, trying to quiet the fruit down, believing that the fruit is the cause of all this drumming, and instead heard a loud bang in his own head and felt the rising of... a note. It drove up, threatening to tear apart his brain, just as it was about to explode, it popped down again, ripping against the waves of nature, ripping into his head. Unwillingly, he started banging his head to the beat, just as the fruit is doing in the mirror. The tasty fruit gone crazy, the crazy fruit possessed him. He felt his soul lifted beyond any sensation he had ever felt before, he felt himself lifted to the stars.

The fruit quieted down, sweating with excitement, stared straight back into the mirror, right into his eyes. He felt the power glorying through the cooling surface of the mirror, he felt himself drawn to the fruit, the tasty tasty fruit. The desire grew, and he wished to take a bite. Just... one bite. He felt the music rising again, and he saw the reflection drawaway, and bang, the rage starts ripping apart his world again, and bang he felt as if he was being taken to another place, so he shook and he danced and he shook and he danced until he shook away all his hair (not all, but enough) all except his head, which is still covered with hair, and he shook until he shook away his color, and took that color of the sun behind his back, so now he is golden, and brown like the setting sun. He shook more and danced more, and shook more and more and more. So much that he started to transform.

We know there'a always a cross-over stage to transformation, right? Okay, for some reason the cross-over stage in this particular situation didn't work out, well, quite exactly as expected. He shook so much and danced so much, he started to flame on (:P), he blazed with fire and passion, then with the falling of the night, he cooled like the ice of the caps. He cooled and blackened, leaving only his chest reflecting the fairness he so momentarily begotten. He took on the night cover's coolness, the feather of the leaves, and... he became a penguin (okay, I know this part is too far fetched, but anyways)...

STOP... that's the wrong story... (Version three) continuing the above excluding the penguin paragraph)

He shook and danced and shook... and he transformed. He took on the reflection from the mirror, his desire for the fruit turned him closer to the fruit than he had ever expected. He picked up the twinkle from the reflection of the mirror, not quite, but enough of a twinkle to cause effects. He picked up the stoutness of the fruit, not quite, but enough to be a handful. He picked up the wild look from the fruit, not quite, but enough to be thought insane for awhile. He picked up the instrument from the fruit, not quite, but enough to make more than a sound. Then, he picked up the mirror from the hand of the fruit, and crashed it into himself. The mirror shattered and he disappeared.

The monkey became MAN and named himself Q1.

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Which version would you vote for?