Their bodies are devoured in a faint crimson aura. I can hardly look at them without feeling alone and used. It reaches out to me, like little strings sewing themselves into my skin. Infecting my body. Dismembering my mind, instituting insanity.
"What is this bullshit!?" her voice cracked as her knees gave out and before further notice, Sina was on the ground.
She is still alive, I can hardly believe it though. Our first encounter with a being truly consumed by the whim of Epidemic Temperance. To think they were capable of capturing strong enough dreamers to create such monstrosities. Wrecked souls, ruined by the will of another mind. Puppets thrown out into the field of battle, dearly, truly, horrid.
"This, my dear girl...this is the will of God." My voice was calm. I moved my hands and as my fingers were grabbing her arms to lift her up she shook away from me, pushing off like I was the enemy itself. Her darkness worried me. It seemed what Temperance was pursuing wasn't a skilled tamer, no, they were looking for a beginner to the art. Someone they could still create in the image of their name. Yes, they were here for Sina.
"THIS IS NOT THE WILL OF ANY GOD I KNOW!" her voice was tearing apart, her screams indefinite compared to the pain she was about to receive.
She must have begged for it.It happened so quickly, I couldn't even blink. She has tamed a Chimera of her own. Her own desires have formed and created an image for themselves. I can see the faint yellow glow of a newborn, a creation she was never supposed to invent because now she will never be able to control another. Oh, what a dumb girl indeed.
"Because the God you've been taught, is not the God that truly exists."
It speaks, finally.
The young man, Albert Delphine, we once knew before quivered in his skin; his bones appeared to be moving haphazardly underneath.
"Oh no girl..." His voice was mangled, like his vocal chords had been torn from his throat then forced back into place again.
"...he is truly just the Devil himself, writing plagiarized tales of holiness from behind the name God the Almighty and or Gods to whom previous humans were devout to."
He stumbled forward a foot, skin rippling off his frame as the power of Saligia coursed through his life force. Soon enough, he would break. The body he had been gifted upon birth will be torn from him and all that will remain will be his Chimera and an evil soul locked tight in a box.
"You...haha, you really thought...that someone...existed. That someone...existed! To please...everyone!? AHA!AHA-HA!"his laughter continued, garbled by the extreme pain of being torn asunder.
Mind and body removed from one another to leave only what little you managed to possess in 22 years. Poor Albert. A kind gentleman with a wife and two daughters. Their hair all as red as his. Their hearts all as big. I wonder what could have taken him so far from where he was...? Soon enough, we will see.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
P1
A room full of mazes. I remember puzzle pieces etched into the wall, peeling then slipping out of place; slowly wafting through the air till they touched ground. But what does it mean?
"It's morning now, Fletcher, wake up!" hummed a delightful voice. Sweet like thick honey on dry crackers.
Darkness. Slight prosthetic lighting beamed down on the walls, highlighting the gray splotches of random shape. My head is heavy. My body can merely swing from side to side as I push my feet forward. What does this place do to me? I feel drugged. My vision about as messed up as my head. Everything's too unclear.
"WILL YOU JUST-" the voice grew more irritated. Her fingers took hold and ripped open the curtains. Right as she turned to drastically wake up the sleeping man a pillow smacked her straight in the face, abruptly stopping her mid sentence.
"I'm awake. Leave me alone!"
If only I could...remember.
"Haaaa-YOU JACKASS! How many more times are you going to do this to me, HUH!? I go through so much trouble to make breakfast for YOU-and I even wake YOU up! You got some real nerve Fletch, some real shitty nerve!"
There's a woman in the room, who's voice strongly resembles that of a tea pot hissing. That would be Marya, a student from the school I let stay here. She's kind and does a lot of great things for me. For example she cooks and cleans and even folds my laundry! And like she said, I'm a real jackass.
"It's morning now, Fletcher, wake up!" hummed a delightful voice. Sweet like thick honey on dry crackers.
Darkness. Slight prosthetic lighting beamed down on the walls, highlighting the gray splotches of random shape. My head is heavy. My body can merely swing from side to side as I push my feet forward. What does this place do to me? I feel drugged. My vision about as messed up as my head. Everything's too unclear.
"WILL YOU JUST-" the voice grew more irritated. Her fingers took hold and ripped open the curtains. Right as she turned to drastically wake up the sleeping man a pillow smacked her straight in the face, abruptly stopping her mid sentence.
"I'm awake. Leave me alone!"
If only I could...remember.
"Haaaa-YOU JACKASS! How many more times are you going to do this to me, HUH!? I go through so much trouble to make breakfast for YOU-and I even wake YOU up! You got some real nerve Fletch, some real shitty nerve!"
There's a woman in the room, who's voice strongly resembles that of a tea pot hissing. That would be Marya, a student from the school I let stay here. She's kind and does a lot of great things for me. For example she cooks and cleans and even folds my laundry! And like she said, I'm a real jackass.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
You didn't know this could happen to you.
Dysphoria.
Enthrallment.
Normopathy.
Abjection.
Sublimation.
Repitition Compulsion.
Repressive Desublimation.
Aporia.
Group Feelings.
Enthrallment.
Normopathy.
Abjection.
Sublimation.
Repitition Compulsion.
Repressive Desublimation.
Aporia.
Group Feelings.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Tiled Sinner's Ceiling.
The color I would have to recall would be that of maple cream, the kind my mother would make when the leaves changed. She put it in everything, from coffee to cake. Pale, but dark at the same time. Pale darkness. To think when you dust the face of that golden, paint the eyes are deep cherry oak color to contrast the ever gleaming demeanor of 'nothing truly exists here'.
O
Small excerpts of life are much better than no recorded history at all. Fictional or as real as day. From the fingertips of a real person, or a mere personality. Consider the role of the story teller. Now, consider the role of the teller's audience. It's all important in the end. And if it isn't, well, I suppose it truly does end there.
O
The burn. A suck of smoke misted with gasoline mint. Train of thought coasting on a bridge over water. Steel and solemn, sworn to hold your path steady and steer you straightforward on your journey. Impending doom is bestowed upon every person during their first breath. To think you can escape that through living a certain way, well, props to your capabilities.
A strong drink over ice, in a short glass with a thick bottom. Liquid gold in a cup, sip it at your leisure. The things we give ourselves aren't nearly as nice as the things we give others. And if you don't give nice things to others, you should put that glass down.
Will you suffocate or drown?
O
A flickering ember in the center of what used to be a burning fire. A ghost flame consuming the flesh of excitable matter. Sparking a light with each kiss upon its skin. Delicate. Disastrous. Lustful, it drinks in every inch of what will succumb to the power. Touching fragile things with rough hands. Being harsh to the gentle. Consuming. Forever.
O
Small excerpts of life are much better than no recorded history at all. Fictional or as real as day. From the fingertips of a real person, or a mere personality. Consider the role of the story teller. Now, consider the role of the teller's audience. It's all important in the end. And if it isn't, well, I suppose it truly does end there.
The burn. A suck of smoke misted with gasoline mint. Train of thought coasting on a bridge over water. Steel and solemn, sworn to hold your path steady and steer you straightforward on your journey. Impending doom is bestowed upon every person during their first breath. To think you can escape that through living a certain way, well, props to your capabilities.
A strong drink over ice, in a short glass with a thick bottom. Liquid gold in a cup, sip it at your leisure. The things we give ourselves aren't nearly as nice as the things we give others. And if you don't give nice things to others, you should put that glass down.
Will you suffocate or drown?
A flickering ember in the center of what used to be a burning fire. A ghost flame consuming the flesh of excitable matter. Sparking a light with each kiss upon its skin. Delicate. Disastrous. Lustful, it drinks in every inch of what will succumb to the power. Touching fragile things with rough hands. Being harsh to the gentle. Consuming. Forever.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Impending Jesus
Ticking.
Clicking.
Tapping.
The world is filled with noises made simply to distract me.
Yes, it seems God has provoked my poor soul with the mutinous sound of existing. No one else seems as terribly troubled by it, when I mention it I receive strange cold stares. They're more troubled by me being troubled than by the trouble itself! Terrible people. Awful, terrible musicians of death. Perilously ruining my day with their pitiful screeching, sobbing and panting. The wails and foreign words spilling from their throats. While the click and tap everything with their fingertips, listening to the tick of their impending doom.
The end of the day.
The bell rings.
The children eat supper,
the men shall bring.
The woman is tidy.
The dog is fed.
Now it's time to sleep,
then work again.
We are tucked away gems of our society. Dolls, kept polished, kind faces on a shelf. That is what we are fed as infant minds. As if solitary confinement wouldn't be enough to start some movement in a comatose thought process, let alone be enough time to think without being trifled with lies. Even the man I share a bed with is fed it. The mush, slanderous pig slop keeping us all in check. They crush mind control agents in the food I have to buy at the markets they provide. I know it. My children get sleepy after every meal. My husband does not kiss me goodnight anymore. It is settling, the dust of a new life. It has become old and ambiguous. We are just another family in this city of families being the perfect image of what a family should be. That is all. That is it.
Stop.
The lights must be dimmed.
Before those who can see,
are at it again.
Clicking.
Tapping.
The world is filled with noises made simply to distract me.
Yes, it seems God has provoked my poor soul with the mutinous sound of existing. No one else seems as terribly troubled by it, when I mention it I receive strange cold stares. They're more troubled by me being troubled than by the trouble itself! Terrible people. Awful, terrible musicians of death. Perilously ruining my day with their pitiful screeching, sobbing and panting. The wails and foreign words spilling from their throats. While the click and tap everything with their fingertips, listening to the tick of their impending doom.
The end of the day.
The bell rings.
The children eat supper,
the men shall bring.
The woman is tidy.
The dog is fed.
Now it's time to sleep,
then work again.
We are tucked away gems of our society. Dolls, kept polished, kind faces on a shelf. That is what we are fed as infant minds. As if solitary confinement wouldn't be enough to start some movement in a comatose thought process, let alone be enough time to think without being trifled with lies. Even the man I share a bed with is fed it. The mush, slanderous pig slop keeping us all in check. They crush mind control agents in the food I have to buy at the markets they provide. I know it. My children get sleepy after every meal. My husband does not kiss me goodnight anymore. It is settling, the dust of a new life. It has become old and ambiguous. We are just another family in this city of families being the perfect image of what a family should be. That is all. That is it.
Stop.
The lights must be dimmed.
Before those who can see,
are at it again.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Dream Sequence.
The lights were flicking on and off. The room was filled with an ominous presence, somehow I knew it bore nothing but pure evil within. Running through the narrow hallways as quickly as my feet could carry me, I stumbled and fell flat on my face. The impact of the old wooden floor against my frame sent a jolt of shock and pain through my soul. This could be it. Suddenly, I was on my feet again and running faster than before. Taking random turns, just trying to get away from this feeling of impurity. Uncertain of how it could end if I let it get too close. Uncertain of weather I'd be capable of getting out of this experience alive.
There had been other's with me, although their whereabouts were unknown to me now. We had separated the seconds the lights went dark. Screaming and torment had filled my ears for only a brief moment before my feet had managed to bring me elsewhere. The silence made me uneasy. There were no longer other footsteps, or pants of horror. Just the faintness of my own breathing keeping me company.
Hours had passed. I'd found refuge in a small materials closet on whatever floor I'd managed to get to while frantically escaping. There was no way I'd find the entrance in such blackness. Hope seemed like a silly thing to keep near me. I thought momentarily of abandoning it, leave hiding and get taken by whatever out there desired us so badly. for only a moment, then the doorknob shook quite violently. I heard a palm rest hard on the other side of the door. I no longer had time to think of my impending doom. No, it had already found me.
The grass I woke up in was soft and warm with sun. I vaguely remembered my escape with the help of a strange person. He was frantic but warm, lifting me and hastily moving me through the darkness. A warm liquid had been slowing seeping into my garb as he grasped me closely. I felt sick and eventually, I believe I passed out. Not before I heard the screams. Not before I saw the spill of blood.
My gown was soaked red when I finally came to lift myself from the warm earth. I prodded myself gently in the places it soaked deepest only to find I bore no sore spots, indicating I had not been injured. I stood to see I was in the middle of nowhere. A large valley with no visible road in sight.
...
There had been other's with me, although their whereabouts were unknown to me now. We had separated the seconds the lights went dark. Screaming and torment had filled my ears for only a brief moment before my feet had managed to bring me elsewhere. The silence made me uneasy. There were no longer other footsteps, or pants of horror. Just the faintness of my own breathing keeping me company.
Hours had passed. I'd found refuge in a small materials closet on whatever floor I'd managed to get to while frantically escaping. There was no way I'd find the entrance in such blackness. Hope seemed like a silly thing to keep near me. I thought momentarily of abandoning it, leave hiding and get taken by whatever out there desired us so badly. for only a moment, then the doorknob shook quite violently. I heard a palm rest hard on the other side of the door. I no longer had time to think of my impending doom. No, it had already found me.
The grass I woke up in was soft and warm with sun. I vaguely remembered my escape with the help of a strange person. He was frantic but warm, lifting me and hastily moving me through the darkness. A warm liquid had been slowing seeping into my garb as he grasped me closely. I felt sick and eventually, I believe I passed out. Not before I heard the screams. Not before I saw the spill of blood.
My gown was soaked red when I finally came to lift myself from the warm earth. I prodded myself gently in the places it soaked deepest only to find I bore no sore spots, indicating I had not been injured. I stood to see I was in the middle of nowhere. A large valley with no visible road in sight.
...
Monday, January 7, 2013
Dream Sequence
It was an effervescent being, coming in and out of appearance. Never staying too often. Somehow it always interesting to come across, but terrifying to be near. It wasn't always such an evil presence, no, she could recall times where it had soothed her in her greatest discomforts. It was so loving, as all benevolent beings can feign, it was capable of taking things sentimentally. But when you trifle with this ultimate gods of fate, as a mortal, you will find nothing but despair at the end of the dance. Figures and voices visited where she dreamt, lulling her fears at first then gripping her in furious hands.
She'd be awoken, frozen stiff in fear. Late nights would grow on her, leaving her eyes sunken and dark. Yes, it truly was a terrible thing, but it wasn't there to cause her any trouble. As all things go, it was only there to help her the whole time.
Her sanity would not allow such treason to her bloodline, because her family held the secrets of humanity, the truth of everything humans had ever known. To allow something so preciously tucked away to be slandered by a demon and tossed into the streets for the pigeons to pluck away, was not formidable. But could such a thing even occur to the daft daughter of the King himself? She was lost in the haze of her adolescents! Consumed by the ripe fruits of the forest, endowed with the whispers of life and goodness. She was a divine natural wonder, although she was empty of thought. Her true strength rested in how well she loved other people,and as our story will tell, how that became a part of her most ugly downfall.
But fear not the ending of the brown eyed daughter. No, fear for how others react when they hear the truth for the first time.
...
She'd be awoken, frozen stiff in fear. Late nights would grow on her, leaving her eyes sunken and dark. Yes, it truly was a terrible thing, but it wasn't there to cause her any trouble. As all things go, it was only there to help her the whole time.
Her sanity would not allow such treason to her bloodline, because her family held the secrets of humanity, the truth of everything humans had ever known. To allow something so preciously tucked away to be slandered by a demon and tossed into the streets for the pigeons to pluck away, was not formidable. But could such a thing even occur to the daft daughter of the King himself? She was lost in the haze of her adolescents! Consumed by the ripe fruits of the forest, endowed with the whispers of life and goodness. She was a divine natural wonder, although she was empty of thought. Her true strength rested in how well she loved other people,and as our story will tell, how that became a part of her most ugly downfall.
But fear not the ending of the brown eyed daughter. No, fear for how others react when they hear the truth for the first time.
...
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