 Posted:
Sat Jun 03, 2006 7:54 am |
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A wisp of inspiration floats dreamily on the currents of the southern winds, basking in the warmth of the summer sun and yet knowing its time was coming to an end. It was a strange thought for a being that knew nothing of life....
What is life?
Is it the end that concerns life?
The birth that is the meaning?
Another thought crossed the wisp's consciousness...
Does it matter what one does in life?
Yes....yes it does.
As is the practice of muses and wisps the little one broke out into song and verse drifting ever closer to its destination, and the wind was kind enough to lend the being some small notes of music as it whistled along their journey.
Of all the qualms of existence, remember this:
It not the end one should fear, not even when it is most near.
Tis not the birth that one finds most happiness, only rest.
Oh that it would be better that one did not exist,
Than to leave behind no memories, or to live in regret.
The meaning is the balance, to love that which is good and evil.
The reward is happiness, to live and die with all people.
The last bit of summer's warmth collided with the cold winds of autumn, and the wisp spiralled up into the atmosphere. It was a beautiful thing to behold it thought, and the storm that was brewing beneath him began to rumble to life with thunder and lightning.
"Ahhh..." moaned a young man in disgust as fat rain droplets of autumn's first storm ravaged his family's farm. It was tough work being an orphan, to have no one to rely on, to take care of an entire farm mostly on your own and having to spend a good portion of your profits paying wandering travellers to help during the harvest and planting seasons.
"Looks like winter comes to rob my pockets once again." the orphan said with a sigh of acceptance. His dull silver eyes reflected back the pain of death and many hardships while his unkempt, platinum hair mirrored the apathy of youth. He looked out over the few acres that remained fertile and spotted a spade sticking out of the dirt. "I don't think I can afford another, so I better go get it before it rusts in this damnable rain." he mumbled to no one in particular and sprinted towards the tool.
The wisp reached the apex on its journey upwards and was suddenly made aware of a seperate consciousness beneath it. Summoning the strength of its epiphany, the little one shot downwards.
As the orphan reached out to grab the spade, his unkempt hair stood on end and he could briefly smell the unforgettable stench of ozone.
BOOM
The bolt of lightning sent him flying backwards, knocking him unconscious and splintering the spade.
For a while, the orphan slept. He dreamt of his father, his mother, his siblings and the terrible disease that ravaged them, but somehow managed to spare him. The agony they went through....
He screamed in pain and terror in the nothingness of slumber.
" I had no choice, it was but mercy..." the orphan muttered in imagined tears as he reflected on the mercy he had given them all. What could a poor family do? Should they be made to suffer until they drew their last breaths?
" I would not let the rest of them suffer in the way father did..." he cried in a whisper as he envisioned his father's last days. Coughing up blood, spoiling himself with his own waste, the horrible boils that were even on his eyes, the unbearable pain....oh that terrible, horrible pain; and when the sickness had drawn all it could from him his father, he somehow managed to stand in defiance of life, in defiance of death and tried to take his intolerable hate out upon his son.
" To be undead is to be nothing..." he stated in a firm voice strengthened by the many times he had repeated it to himself in the past. He had struck his father a blow that knocked him to ground. The cursed undead remnant of his father moaned and stood again, ready to remove the flesh from his son's body and consume it. Without hesitation, he grabbed the closest thing to him and swung it with all his might at his father's head. The spade sunk deeply past its mark and continued through instantly removing his father's hateful gaze. There was nothing left of the monster's head, but still it lie there groping about with its hands; somehow managing to gurgle a moan out of its throat. The orphan locked the door to the room and was somberly aware of what must be done....
" I must burn this place, the curse that has overtaken father will soon overtake the rest. This place is unholy..." a sudden rage overtook the young man and he screamed in defiance, " I WILL BURN THIS PLACE TO THE GROUND! MY FAMILY WILL FIND PEACE IN THE FLAMES OF DEATH!"
The memory faded, and the self-made orphan awoke in a blackened circle in the middle of the field in a fetal position weeping uncontrollably.
" Etiphus..." a voice whispered in his mind. " I've a gift for you..." The wisp began its song once again, and the wind whistled through the field accompanied by the distant sounds of thunder.
Of all the qualms of existence, remember this:
It not the end one should fear, not even when it is most near.
"Wh....wh...what?" he wimpered weakly.
Tis not the birth that one finds most happiness, only rest.
Oh that it would be better that one did not exist,
Than to leave behind no memories, or to live in regret.
The meaning is the balance, to love that which is good and evil.
The reward is happiness, to live and die with all people.
The song somehow comforted him, and he stood up with renewed strength. He looked at his blackened palms while heading back to his barn to rinse off for the night and was ready to welcome the shelter that was his home. The song echoed in his mind and a new thought began to creep up in the recesses of his mind.
" Perhaps its time for me to leave this place...." he shrugged it off noncommitally and started washing his hands in the rain that had collected in the wooden barrell just outside the barn.
' Etiphus! The Hardened Soul! One who has known much grief and little happiness!' a voiced boomed forth from the water, and Etiphus stood there in disbelief, mouth agape. ' You must travel to Kelrath! I am the servant of Osiris, Tygona and you are chosen by me to fulfill the duties of a special type of Paladin. You will be the bearer of the balance, for it is finally time the forces of light and dark are in harmony.'
The water, grey with the soot from his hands, sprung upwards from the barrel and consumed him. The water and soot swirled around Etiphus and fell to the floor, but the only thing left to suggest Etiphus Hardenedsoul had been there was a small silver medallion with his family's crest engraved lying upon the dirt floor with muddy water swirling about it:
To live is to die |
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Anonymous
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Posts: -19
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| Posted:
Sat Jun 03, 2006 8:10 am |
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It tried to write this one different, but I'm not so sure it is so far removed in style from my other stuff.
I was told that it would be nice if I wrote something with feeling, something that women would enjoy reading. So I thought to myself :
What always gets women?
I realized I had no idea  , and just decided to try and write something around a poem.
How very EMO of me 
God I need a shower...
In my defense, there ARE zombies in it and a decapitation!  |
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Anonymous
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Posts: -19
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| Posted:
Sat Mar 01, 2008 2:18 pm |
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I really enjoyed it. I also think the poem is good as well. Ironically I was listening to metallica - To live is to Die when I spotted your post. There are only a few lyrics to the song, otherwise it's an instrumental.
When a Man Lies He Murders
Some Part of the World
These Are the Pale Deaths Which
Men Miscall Their Lives
All this I Cannot Bear
to Witness Any Longer
Cannot the Kingdom of Salvation
Take Me Home
I really liked the way your character first had to experience the joy of family and life, and the pain of loss and death. Then move on to emptiness and despair before he could finally be brought to balance, a new life, and truly understand his calling as a Grey Paladin. |
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Anonymous
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Posts: -19
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