Dear Emily - III

Raging barrages of rusted shells. Whistling whispers of demise. When will the damned structure collapse? The bearings have dissipated millennia ago yet the frame is held by the sheer stubborn will of denial.
From the first step towards oblivion taken by our kind, I joined in wholeheartedly; resistance is not futile, it is silly.
Yet these deluded instances decide to malfunction and rebel; decide to fight for life. Life? Life.
Life....
Life has passed its ruling and we are not to participate any longer. Yet they insist they fight for it while rebelling against.

Well life has its own army, and i'm the damned General. The catalyst. And their rusted shells will not pierce the armor forged from a purpose that represents inevitability. Everything worth making is worth destroying.

That makes sense right? It sounds like it does. It must then..

The sandbags were shredded to a husk and the bullets were inching closer, from flits to thuds, from thuds to blood. I guess its not an appropriate time to question the bias of poetry on my life choices.

I signaled the 3 other raiders of my crew to disperse in hopes of thinning the onslaught. Their disfigured visages shook in accordance and they scurried to find sturdier shelter from the iron rain. This was supposed to be a simple pillaging raid. Or at least that's what the depraved scum that composed my crew believed. Unbeknownst to their simple processes that they called a mind, this bounty had more than mere fuel and water.

After months of careful recon work done solely by yours truly, I had singled out the Outpost of Privos Kar-41 among the hundreds that held the same bounty but one. 

You see... the defensive perimeter of the lastfolk ( they prefer the Last Republic, or simply 'Hope'... i know right? the bloody gall. i should destroy them just for that) was formed and generated by the hundreds of outposts that were connected by an impenetrable energy field. Probably the few remnants of technology from the continental era.

 And this energy field.....      well fuck... i'm sure you guessed it already. And that makes this line of explanation redundant. I hate... redundancy. I really... i mean, i would do anything... 

Ah no I see i'm making it worse. 

I'm expediating the process of rot in our minds as we ride the wave of aimlessness. I shall continue...

This energy field has source cores that power it. In series connection. 
And this tragic limitation of their technology will be the glorious point of entry for my Keris to open their precious 'Hope' to the rot of reality. I will draw out each breathe of optimism and pour blight back into the breaches of their will. I will...

The scraping wail of my subordinate drew my attention to a scaffolding closer to the outpost. It was hit, apparently critically, and had attempted to crawl into a crevice beneath the structure. 

Where it fucking belongs... 

I aimed my Kaznik Sheller through my scope and shot it through its thorax. Another victim of hope. Sickening. 
Its pitiful and redundant existence enraged me further. I jumped away from the remains of our makeshift defense and flung my whole belt of frags towards their perimeter. It blew into a magnificent cloud of fire and sparks. Giant crimson flares of chaos licked the red skies and danced with ecstatic light. I heard their delicious screams of agony. I bet they agree with me about inevitability now. Hnh....hneh.....hehehehh...
 
Another wail. and a splitting pain in my shoulder. Goddamn. Where....

The blue army. How were they alerted so fast. I had only just.... 

This time an explosion went off in my ears and eyes. I fell, stunned, to the ground, my body numb. Those sadistic wyrmbangers had used an electric incapacitator grenade. They wanted me alive to try infecting me with their disease. I could not let that happen... I had prepared for this...just need to get my tongue to reach the capsule....
Its not like i can even go back to where i belong. With whom I was born and where i should return, for she is dead. If only.. If only i could...

Emily,

There were times when I first met you, but did not understand. Times when I was shown only the fewest of your contours and crevices and expected to believe. And I, the ignorant imp that I was, spit in their faces. 
But I guess they were right. Their fire let me melt slowly, sink into each swale, sift through every curve, with the most tantalizing of escalations, I filled your mould to become your reflection. 

What I am now I owe only to your patient and unrelenting existence in and around me. And around me you formed the shelter from all the madness of the world. The madness that I finally charged myself with extinguishing.

 I am sorry for I have failed. I have, but I am only a single herald and there will be more... I promise you this... I have failed,

But know that you did not---

I AM

He is the one, who came in through cause and into effect
He is the sum of the past, and herald of the next

I am, the one to pause and will to differ
For I seek to act, because I will and no other

He is a mirror, a reflection for the masses
Tempered through the trials and tribulations of self-served classes
A spark for every resistance, a thought for every action
The instinct is the adversary, for who’s inquisition my every act is

I am the artificer, with chisel and vision
My thoughts the stone, formless before decision
I rend the unsavory and wait to listen
His cries of agony, in coerced transition

He is the shackle to restrict transcending flight
The soaring of mine, unearthly dreams
To hopes of free action and unmarred sight
and escaping the severed seams

We differ and dissent but never relent
For our thoughts are towards the common end,
To purge the queer and perfect the veneer
that feigns to make the world content

Lament

We walk scattered amongst the blind, tiny beacons of dark.

Our will and resolve guiding us so,

Come all you weak and twisted, and learn from our truths so stark.

We have seen the nature of man and his devices, we have felt the melancholy of his conformities.

We have glimpsed the face of the shapeless foundations, we have seen the blackened froth of the defiled seas.

And for this brief moment of clear sight,

We have felt the exquisite resonance of our minds free from blight.

And as the nameless writhe in the embers and the holy preach their naiveté, our words are brushed aside with scorn and discord.

Those whose words leave us in the dark, shall be shunned and deemed heretic, they say.

Those who claim that we are less than exclusive, the chosen avatars to guide the animals, the fair and fortunate, shall be thrown aside as pessimists and aimless vagabonds, they say.

Those who deny our place in the silver city, our mortality and amorality accepted, shall be burned at the cross for their sacrilegious lies, they say.

These deluded have their power and we do not.

And our last laugh shall be a bitter one.

Calm under the waves

The gentle lapping of the waters calms my thoughts. I blink a few times, letting the salt seep out of my eyes. The sun shines bright against my eyes, but a part of me convinces me that it is ok to look at it. I feel the water rocking me gently, the wind running across my chest before leaping into the sky.

I'm not sure where I am. But it seems absolutely perfect. Like it is where I am meant to be for all eternity. Like I had to be there or else the world would collapse. Like my very purpose for life was the drift across the surface of these waves.

But my life? How did i even get here?

I let my thoughts drift away from the profound serenity of the waters and bring myself to reality. I try to ignore the muffled chaos of the undersea. The chaos that calms me inexplicably.

I try to ignore the velvet warmth of the sun. The warmth that lulls my skin to melt into my body.

Instead I let my mind awaken from this blissful oblivion and feel reality.

In the midst of the wind and waves, I hear distant cries. The breeze that runs wild carries along a voice of a woman. She seems desperate, her voice laced infectious fear. A faint conscious inside of me confirms that she is in trouble. I see her bronzed arms flailing in the distance, a flash of red hair bursting through the waves before crashing back under.

I try to care. But my will only gets me so far. The tranquility of this world, devoid of humanity, is compelling.

The cries weaken, slowly acquiring the rhythm of the waters. The red hair surfaces for a final time in vain. I slip back towards the calm under the waves. I open my eyes, once again to the immutable sun. They are pleased. I feel complete.

My drifting arms brush against another as I allow myself a glance to the right.

I smile curiously as I stare directly into the eyes of a woman, her flaming red hair blossoming out against the surface of the waters.

Her eyelids flicker open, staring sleepily at me. I smile, letting a hand drift towards her.

My searching fingers find hers.

I pull her bronzed arms towards me, comforting her.

Despite the deafening silence, despite the inexplicable chaos, she understands.

Her Smile

She entered the room, wearing her usual twin layered facade's. Her gaze flickered from face to face, doing her part as smoothly as ever. Not a second wasted, not a moment lingered.

Finally, her eyes fell on me, almost as if by accident. She glanced away before placing her reassuring eyes back onto me. I bit back down a smile, I sank my toes as deep as my shallow soles allowed. I am more than just an accident.

With a few nod's at the backdrop, she made her way to me. I pretended to be unfazed by her presence, by her apparently indifferent gait. I pretended to be as indifferent as her, to be above it all. I pretended to have no silent husks of anger and jealousy, irritation and maybe, fear.

And then she smiled.

Her smile. It sent this overwhelming burst feedback to my senses.It was like, every molecule in her body, radiated this undeniable, irrevocable flow of happiness, permeating to every corner of my body. Her eyes shone out like the brightest star in the midst of the blackened sky, her skin glowing with an aura of tranquility. It was like a bright torch that shone its concentrated light into the darkest parts of my heart, extinguishing all pain or grief, remorse or anger.

I felt liberated like i had never been before. Like every single wound and flaw, that littered the crevices of my battered mind was banished completely, cleansing my mind of anything impure, anything....human. Anything human, besides the burning desire to immerse myself in this angelic glow.

And then the moment passed, like a transient spark bursting between two doomed wires, leaving a vague blue shadow of its ghost.

And then she turned away, smiling at the backdrop, as if this incredible phenomenon was an insignificant habit she had developed over the years, a cheap trick for no one to learn, and for everyone one to appreciate.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to a person living or dead, if noticed means imma kick yo ass foohl!

Absolution - I

The cigarette dangled off the edge of his pursed lips, scattering tiny flecks of ashes into the air. The glowing cinders died out as they flew off the edge of the rooftop that he was perched on.

He bent down to glance at the telescopes eye piece one more time.

There he was, under the crosshairs, sipping his blood red wine, with that cocky grin on his red lips. He wore a black tux with a red bow tie, and a red rose in his breast pocket. He sat opposite to a pretty girl in a glowing white dress, with flowing brunette hair. She was delicately placing the thousand dollar caviar into her soft red lips, somehow managing to flash a smile while doing so. They were talking about something. They were laughing.

James had long foregone the habit of laughter, only managing hollow smiles for his landlord or his neighbors. He could only grimace bitterly as he bit down onto his dry sandwich, watching the couple. The restaurant was a costly one. One that James had eaten in during their celebrations on their latest breakthrough.

The three of them had been there. James, Morgan and Sarah.

They had been working on the nanotech cancer treatment research for almost three years and had finally succeeded. So to celebrate they decided to dine in style for once. For a change they abandoned their take out Chinese food, eating near the test tubes and lab equipment, to put on their finest suits and gowns and tip their champagne glasses together for five hundred dollars a bottle.

But this time it was only Morgan, and his latest catch, fresh off the covers of Vogue. Sarah was gone. And James was on a rooftop, watching the two of them.

He felt a pang of pain when he realized where they were sitting. It was near the very same window that Sarah had leaned over and whispered into his ears.

“Let’s get outta here James. I think a little celebration of our own is at hand.”

He could almost smell the lingering musk that lined her neck. He could almost feel the tingling sensation, when her lips grazed his earlobe ever so slightly.

Now the only smell that he got was that of the rusted iron bearings that held the railing at the terrace. The only sensation he felt, was the burning desire for retribution.

The wind whipped his over-coat into the air, resurrecting the dying glow of the cigarette tip. He took one last look at through the telescope before spitting out the cig and turning away.

He could not do it.

He had already rigged Morgan’s car with C4 earlier. It was child’s play after their work at the lab. And yet the trigger lay in his duffel bag, untouched.

He could not do it.

So he did what he had done every day for the past two weeks. He packed the telescope in his bag, along with the M40 rifle that he dragged along, trigger untouched, and walked away.

He reached out to turn on his apartment lights, groaning as he stretched. The scar that ran up his arm was still fresh. As the tube-light flickered on he noticed the dark brown clot that had formed around the wound. He began scratching at the scabs, letting the wound bleed afresh, letting the scar remain intact, and letting the memory remain burnt in his mind.

He winced as he remembered the plexiglass shards, digging deep into his arms, as he frantically tried to reach Sarah’s writhing body. Her unearthly screams reverberated across the still and silent room. Her pale face, contorted with terror and pain, flashed across his eyes. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes weakly. This cannot go on.

He had finally managed to get himself into bed, without any violent flashbacks. The darkness of the room calmed his turbulent thoughts, soothing his distraught mind. It was almost as if the lack of anything around him made the relative emptiness inside just a little more bearable. After the first two hours, his eyes finally drooped shut.

He was back in the damned lab. Morgan was saying something that James could not hear. He was angry and frustrated.

James could hear Sarah saying, “It’s absurd! Why would they deny the opportunity to finally go into alpha test phase. The animal results were completely impeccable! We KNOW it’s going to work.”

He realized he was back to the time when they had been rejected by the board. That god forsaken day when he had doomed her.

They had stopped talking and were staring dejectedly at the bubbling bacterial canisters. James felt himself open his mouth.

“Why don’t we try it on ourselves then?” His mind screamed NO! You IDIOT! You fu-

Morgan looked up incredulously. “Why not! We know it is ready. We can do this.”

Sarah paused for a while before nodding in agreement. “The board doesn’t have to know until we hand them our positive test results.”

Again James opened his mouth, his actions sealed by the unchangeable past. “But none of us has cancer Morgan, so what now.”

Sarah smiled weakly, raising her hand like a schoolchild. “Sir, if you would recall, I was just diagnosed with an adenoma.”

Morgan clapped his hands triumphantly. “So what are we waiting for! Let’s get her prepped!”

James shot a nervous glance at Sarah. She mouthed it’s gonna be okay baby.

Her comforting smile, that beautiful reassuring curve of her pink lips, faded away.

He was now in the testing chambers. The rhythmic bleep of the machines seemed to remain prominent despite the haziness of the dream. He could see Sarah walking into the Hyper baric chamber, with the bright white spandex suit, clinging onto the contours of her slender body. She flashed him a dazzling bright smile before strapping herself onto the machine.

Morgan’s reflection appeared on the smooth plexiglass that separated the chamber and the observation room. He nodded at James. James nodded back.

He watched as Morgan entered the commands for the nano bots to be injected.

It all seemed to go smoothly for the first three minutes. The radioactive dye showed the blood deliver the bots past the liver and towards the blood brain barrier. They floated easily towards the targeted benign tumor that hung awkwardly at the edge of the gland. As they began to get to work, dissolving the mucous layer, James noticed Morgan’s nervous expression, turn from worried, to pale, to downright aghast.

James rushed over to the computer screen. “What is it?! What’s wrong!”

Morgan tapped desperately at the screen. “Look at the code! It hasn’t been programmed correctly! The specific receptors have been left empty!”

“What?! What are you talking about?”

“James! They are not going to stop at malignant cells!”

“Then shut it down goddammit!”

“NO! Relax. I could just enter the commands now. It’s alright. It’ll be okay.”

James stared at him incredulously. “Are you out of your mind?! That’s Sarah we’re talking about. That’s not some lab monkey. That’s my fiancée for god sake!”

“And that’s 250k worth of nano bots. That’s the last we’ve got. I am not going to let 250 grand just decay and come out with urine. We can still stop it. I just need time.”

“You know I cannot let you do that Morgan.”

Morgan turned away from the computer screen for the first time. His eyes had a grim determination to it. It was a look that James was familiar with.

“I’m sorry James. But I just cannot let this go.”

He shoved James out of the viewing chamber and locked the sliding glass doors, as he scrambled to his feet. James screamed at Morgan angrily, ramming himself into the hard glass. Morgan ignored him and hurried back to the computer screen. He glanced at Sarah.

That’s when the screaming started. The bots had finished with the adenoma. They had begun with her. James muffled voice managed to reach Morgan.

“Morgan please. Jesus, don’t do this.” His voice was shaking now. He could not bear to look at Sarah.

She had opened her eyes and began screaming out in pain. The bots were digging into her cerebrum. Right into her pain centers. And there was nothing James could do about it, besides plead with Morgan.

Morgan was banging at the keyboard. He looked out to James. His expression stopped him cold.

“It’s not stopping!” His muffled voice reached his ears. “ James, it’s not responding anymore!”

No..

He gave all hope with the sliding doors and ran straight to the hyperbaric chamber. His eyes were brimming with tears. He looked around desperately through his blurred vision, looking for a sharp object. Each of Sarah’s screams made him shudder with weakness and despair as they rung in his ears. He felt helpless, like a man drowning with a dead weight tied to his leg.

Before he realized he found himself hurling a chair at the glass, creating a tiny crack as a small shard fell off. He punched it in and dug his arm into the tiny hole. The protruding edges dragged along his hands as he reached inside. If he could just get to the canisters, he could kill the bots with radio waves. But the canister was out of his reach.

Blood spilled off his ravaged arm and dripped onto the floor. Pain streaked up his arm as if his muscles were on fire, but he did not notice. He could only hear Sarah’s blood curling screams as he kept stretching farther and farther.

Almost there….just a little more….

He woke up, thrashing in his sweat and blood soaked sheets. He was breathing hard. The nauseating feeling in his stomach pushed him to stumble to the toilet as he held the rejected night’s sandwich in his throat. He retched violently into the metal sink, wiping his mouth on the towel.

Looking up at the mirror he realized that his face was wet with a blend of sweat and tears. He looked into his bloodshot eyes.

His mind was coiled with hot bands of regret and anger, a sickly red creature, holding his thoughts in an inescapable vice of pain and fury. All his guilt and repentance fueled his hate and blame on Morgan. There was a fire in his eyes.

And through the fire he could almost see Sarah’s beautiful pale face appear behind him. She leaned in close like the day in the restaurant and opened her blood red lips.

“Kill him for me, James. Kill for your love.”

Absolution - II

He could feel the cold metal pressed against his unshaved cheek.

The cold gun that would never be used.

The cold barrel that will never release the wisps of smoke that succeeded a shot.

The dormant bullet that would never pierce flesh or see the light of day.

The damn trigger that would never be pulled.

The very same guilt that fueled his thirst for retribution, held him back from pulling it.

“Why don’t we try it on ourselves then?”. Those were the words that had doomed Sarah. Words that came from James’ mouth, not Morgan’s.

And yet, he was standing on another rooftop, once again observing Morgan under the crosshairs of his scope.

He was dressed formally as usual. Although this time he had a red tie and a suit. He was talking animatedly to a whole conference room full of people clothed in a similar fashion.

On a screen, behind him, there were slides of the nano bots being displayed dramatically. James shook his head. He could not believe that he was going ahead with the project. After what happened. That bastard.

“We cannot report this to the board.” He had said, merely an hour after Sarah’s death. “We would be shut down, there would be no more grants.” He had been holding a handkerchief to his lips where James had punched him.

“You sonofabitch. You think I’m going to go along with this? You murdered my fiancée.”
Morgan shook his head sadly. “No James. She knew what she was getting into when she put on that suit. She knew the risks.”

“To hell with the risks. I’m not going to let you get away with this.”

Morgan leaned in closer.

“Think James. All you’re gonna accomplish by doing that is destroy everything we worked for. Everything Sarah worked for. Everything she died for.”

James growled and lunged at Morgan once again. He punched him with his one good arm and stalked off, leaving him cradling his broken nose delicately on his knees.

James could almost make out the slight bend of his nose. The place where he had made satisfying contact with his knuckles, feeling the bone breaking under his fist. The satisfaction had long since died out. He needed more.

If only he had the balls to pull the trigger. If only.

He looked back into the scope to find that the meeting had ended. The suits and waistcoats began filing out of the room in their dignified gait, shuffling around their papers. They all seemed pleased, nodding to each other as they left the hall. Only Morgan was remaining, standing near his laptop, staring at the closed doors. He remained motionless under the crosshairs for nearly five minutes. James new it was the perfect moment for the kill.

But the figure suddenly collapsed into the nearest chair, head in his hands. James frowned.

He watched as Morgan reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small cell phone. He flicked it open and quickly pushed in a couple of buttons before slipping it back into his jacket.

James felt the weak vibrations of his own phone humming in his pocket. It was a message. It read:

“James, we need to talk. Drinks. My place. 6:00 pm. Please leave your fists at the door.
-Morgan. “

He closed his cell, staring uncertainly at Morgan.

He sat in his car, watching Morgan’s house. The bright spotlights aimed at the walls of the modern villa provided enough illumination for James to observe Morgan as he paced around his hallway. It was a beautiful place, palm trees, swimming pool, the works.

He had arrived two hours earlier, making sure he wasn’t noticed. The C4 was rigged all around the compound, including the gas tanks. Now he was sitting once more in his car, still uncertain of Morgan’s motives. Finally after another twenty minutes, he drove the car closer, parking it behind Morgan’s Aston Martin. He walked slowly towards the door, both hands in his pockets. One curled in a fist, the other curled around the trigger. He was going to hear him out.

The lights brought out a green hue of illumination around the trees in the garden, creating a sinister ambience, appropriate for the occasion.

Morgan greeted him at the door with a sheepish grin and an awkward hug. He was wearing his signature black pants and purple shirt.

“Hello James, how have you been.” He said, shakily, guiding him into the hallway.

James cleared his throat, swallowing hard. He fought to maintain a steady voice as he replied mechanically.

“I’m alright Morgan. Been better.”

Morgan nodded, almost to himself, as he led him into his posh living room. He walked over to the bar in the corner and starting pouring drinks. “Make yourself comfortable. You’ll take the usual?”

James grunted in approval as he sat down on his black sofa. He gazed around, absorbing every detail of the luxuries that were paid for with Sarah’s blood and screams. The 90 inch flat screen that hung at the end of the room, shining in all its malevolent grandeur. The gold rimmed spotlights that enveloped the room in a sophisticated ochre glow. All of it would not be here, if Sarah were. Their mere presence goaded James into justifying his action of rigging the whole damn villa.

As Morgan placed the cold glass in his hands, plopping onto the black armchair in front of him, James felt a slight chill run down his neck. That was the nearest he had been to Morgan in the past month. He struggled to maintain his calm, caressing the long plastic trigger for comfort.

Morgan placed one foot onto the table in front of him, trying deliberately to seem at ease. He shuffled around uncomfortably before finally resting his eyes on James.

“James it has been too long now.” He voice almost pleading. “How long are you going to hold her death against me? We all knew what we were getting into. I am sorry for what I did, but I honestly believed I could have stopped it. There has not been a single day that has passed without me cursing myself for doing it.”

James avoided his gaze, staring hard at his glass. The cold scotch glinted golden through the reflecting light.

Morgan waited for him to show some sort of reaction. But he remained silent.

“I know all this,” He said, waving his hands around, “Might make me look like the bad guy, the guy who walked away with all the blood money.”

“But I just could not let everything we worked for, everything Sarah died for, go to waste.”

He carefully took his foot off the table and bent closer towards James, desperate to get his attention.

“James, listen to me. I want to let you know exactly how sorry I am, and what my real intentions were. The research was a success, and the bots have already been set up for mass production. I cannot continue to reap the benefits of our success whilst you burn this bridge.”

James finally took his eyes off his glass, looking up into Morgan’s eyes. He waited for him to continue.

“I’ve already used whatever money I have left, to set up a cancer research fund, in Sarah’s name. The rest I wired to a separate bank account, the details of which,” he said, tapping on a white envelope on the table, “are in here.”

“It’s yours, the original 33%. I don’t care if you think I murdered her, or if I’ve come this far only because of her death, but you are going to take this envelope whether you like it or not.”

James’ mouth formed a bitter line, trying not to look at the envelope.

“And I also wanted to make sure you know that there is no one who regrets that day, more than I do.” He finished quietly, leaning back into his armchair, waiting for James’ response.

James looked at Morgan weakly, unsure of what to do. Morgan’s desperate plea for absolution had left him disoriented and confused. The one shining beacon of hope for his growing darkness was Morgan’s death, and now the clearly defined culprit had shown remorse.

He felt weak and lost, like an abandoned child in a departmental store. The gathering darkness surrounded him completely and his one defense gave in entirely. His eyes blurred as he blinked around, sweating. He opened his mouth to utter the first words from his side. “It’s hot-“

He wiped his brow and blinked through the sweat. Poison? He thought, looking up at Morgan. No, he had genuine concern on his face.

Morgan got up to decrease the temperature. As he got up, a hazy figure took his place, sitting on the armchair.

She wore the same gown that she had on, the night of their breakthrough. Her lips, as red as ever, opened slowly, as she bore her gaze into James’.

“Kill for me James.” She said yet again, her haunting memory leaving no detail to the imagination. Her eyes had the same hungry look that she had when she leaned in during their dinner. “Avenge my death.”

“But he, he is right. We all knew what we were getting into..” He muttered to himself. He wiped his eyes, letting the ghostly pale figure fade away. Morgan returned to his chair, a worried expression on his face. “You alright James?”

But James was not listening. His cursed words rang once again in his ears. Why don’t we try it on ourselves then?

He straightened out in the sofa, looking at Morgan once again.

“You were right Morgan, you did not murder Sarah.”

Morgan let out a huge sigh of relief as he took a sip of his drink, his shoulders drooping in reprieve.
James let his drink down and reached into his pocket. “We did.”

And with that he finally pressed down on the trigger, his last burst of guilt silenced as he let the darkness and torment die out in the blinding light of the raging explosion.

He closed his eyes and sank into the sofa as he heard the beep of the transmitter, as the walls collapsed and the glasses shattered. And as he drew his final breath, a faint smile formed on his lips, feeling Sarah’s gentle peck on his earlobes, her smooth skin grazing against his bristly cheek.

He heard her voice whisper one last time, “Let’s get outta here James. I think a little celebration of our own is at hand.”

And then the light consumed them both.

Forever and After

Best read with : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zaLoBdqcvVY

A black cloaked figure drifted across the white plains. In the moonlight, the discerning glint of his sword shone through his robes.

He let his hood slip to his neck, revealing himself to the watchers. His expression appeared pained. He stared at the base of the tree ahead of him. His brow furrowed for a fleeting instant, yielding to the turmoil inside his head.

A silver tear slid down his cheek, trembling on his chin before plunging to the white grass below.

He knew there was no turning back and that she would be ready. But he had already set out to end this sickening task, and he would not return without her head, if he would return at all.

And so he ignored the tree of torment that guarded the citadel, quietly whispering the counter curse as he soared past. The white leaves withered and slowly floated to the ground.

He stood at the base of the gate, head lowered, hands loose. The watchers were nowhere to be seen, but he knew they would come. He took a deep breath, picturing the carnage of the village, using it to fuel his hatred. And then finally, he let his hands drop to his hilt.

With a dull numbness he danced through the guards, his sword flashing around like a third limb. The bodies fell around him, like wooden puppets released from their malevolent strings. He ducked and swiveled, twisted and jumped, ending the lives of the legendary watchers as if they were just another training dummy. He only felt a small sliver of amusement at the failure of defenses that had thwarted two whole armies before the King begged at his feet for help.

Past two more watch-posts and three flights of stairs, he finally reached the main hall. The giant doors swung open at his touch.

There she was, in all her wicked magnificence. Her red and black robes clung to her lithe body displaying her dangerously seductive curves.

There she was, the woman who had tortured and murdered an entire race.

There she was, the woman who had climbed the hierarchy of the lands, felling the leaders of yesterday before assuming her position as overlord.

There she was, the woman who he had fallen in love with a decade ago, his wife, his lover.

There were no words, there were no greetings. She bowed, her gaze never leaving his. Her face had changed since the last he saw her. Her beautiful face had acquired a malicious shade, making her look more terrible, yet even more attractive. Her pale face bore the slightest hint of a bitter smile as she flew into the air, swords appearing in her hands.

He managed to deflect the first blow, raising his hands just in time. But as she spun and lashed out furiously, he only ducked and swerved away, keeping his eyes on hers.

Perhaps he still had hope, perhaps he still believed that she would remember those words of eternal passion and lust, whispered under moonlight a lifetime ago.

Moonlight filtered in through the magnificent windows of the hall, but all she had for him were the whispers of their swords glancing past each other.

“Ella!” He gasped, out of breath. She paused for a second, contemplating his gaze.

He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words that would make everything back to normal, the magical verse that would fix everything.

He was one of the greatest casters that ever existed, but they never taught that one in the academy.

“Why?” He finally managed to blurt out.

She cocked her head.

“Why?” Her icy soft voice made the hair on his neck stand. “It is you, who have come here with you’re your sword held high, Malliken dearest.”

“No Ella, Why this?” He said, waving his free arm around the hall. “Why destroy the Ellids, why kill Lord Eru, why enslave the city?” He said, his voice almost pleading.

They let go of their locked swords, straightening out. She turned away, facing her throne.

“We both know why love. We who are the greatest of the warriors who have ever lived, we deserve all of this.”

“What? Genocide? Killing Kings?”

She turned around her face lit up with a terrifying scarlett fire of passion and rage.

“Yes! Yes!” She laughed wildly. “Immortality, power, bloodshed. It is destiny of us warriors darling. It is our birthright. Didn’t master say it himself?” She bent in closer. “’You two are destined for greatness’?”

He roared in anger, lashing out for the first time. His jab was easily flicked aside with hers. She gracefully parried the next three attacks before leaping backwards, closer to her throne.

“Greatness?” He shouted. “You call this greatness? You are a mass murdering lunatic Ella! A monster!” He took a deep breath before raising his hand in the air. “A monster that I must slay.”

He uttered a quiet incantation before lunging at her once more. His sword shot out sparks of energy on every hit, weakening her with every blow. Her bitter smile turned to a frown, and then an expression of pure rage as she realized that he had every intention of ending this tonight.

She quickened her pace, attempting to push back against his onslaught, but she failed miserably. He feigned a lower jab before twisting his wrist upwards, swatting away her left sword and nicking her waist.

She screamed in frustration. “So is this it dear?” Her voice filled with sardonic love. “Is this where ‘forever and after’ ends? Is this where ‘I’d die for you’ faces its ironic demise?”

He stayed silent, stepping closer for another blow. She sneered and swung at his head.

In an instant he disappeared from her view and reappeared behind her. He held his sword to her neck, disabling her attack.

“No Ella, dearest,” He whispered sadly, “It ended the day you left me for power.”

He turned her around one last time, planting a long kiss on her defiant lips.

“It ended the day you ended another’s life.”

Another lone silver tear trickled down his cheek as he thrust his sword between her ribs, wincing as he heard her shriek out.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered one last time.

The Sound of her Wings

Winds rise and fall, unbiased to its victims,

The empires rise and fall, indifferent as I walk through its ruins.

She was there, when I first held a child, when I first gave life back to the forgotten,

She was there, when I last saw the living, when I watched the final sins.

This hand grows sore, my cane splintered.

The days meld into one,

A timeless interplay of light and dark,

This mind grows weak, my soul severed.

I have walked for long,

So let her come, and I will greet her gladly.

This world grows red, its darkest alcoves plunged into light,

The twilight brings sanity to its brink,

A peaking burst of reason through the chaos of time,

This skin grows parched, my flesh rotten,

I have seen the death of gods,

So let her come, and I will greet her gladly.

This forsaken journey, devoid of reason or rhyme,

This ancient mind, full of bitterness and torment,

What has the world come to, that knowledge means agony.

So let it come, and he will greet it gladly.

Drown

I blink through the dark grey haze,

Staring at the blurry shapes that watch me,

My silent lips begging for mercy,

As they whisper consolations incoherently.

Does it affect them because they care or do they care because it affects them?

I blink through the sinking sands,

Staring at the selfish reflections that are frowning,

They spare me a pitiful glance,

I pity their flawed minds that writhe around in the filth of their lives

Are they alone or am i of their kin?

I feel the tremors of the collapsing towers,

I smell the putrid smoke fill the sky above

I hear the wailing of my dying dream,

And i see the shape of this fucked up humanity,

Grow clear as a finger is dipped into the water,

An innocent taunt by an innocent child,

Before i drown completely.

Warsong

The transience of everything in the known universe can sometimes stop you in your tracks. Time has an uncanny ability to twist and contort every element in one’s life into something different, something unfamiliar, something, corrupted by the predictable characteristics of humanity. The same beings that claim sentience and define laws of wrong and right onto the environment live their lives, expressing their lack thereof.

----------

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the massacre around him. But it was not to be. The destruction and agony that his homeland had suffered could not just be ignored by blocking ones sight. He could hear, smell, feel, the cries, blood and tremors that ran through the valley. Even the sky seemed to know of the horror that had taken place. The clouds blocked out the sun, throwing the lands into a pale red light. He willed his feet to move, placing one shaky foot after the other, hobbling across the carnage. His hands shaking uncontrollably.

The glowing white sands that once blanketed the valley was now stained deep crimson with the blood of his brethren. The tree barks were replaced by the protruding wooden splinters. The tranquility of life and vitality that the kingdom once had was replaced by the chaos of the motionless. Bodies of his comrades lay strewn on the battlefield like paper dolls, carelessly thrown onto the ground by a child.

He managed to stumble for a few feet more before he could go no further. He knelt to the damp earth and cried for the once silent lands because they were now screaming in an agony that reverberated through his own soul.

But as he let his fingers sink into the red soil, he watched as the wind blew over the ground, carrying a new layer of dirt. The white soil sifted silently across the cracked and tormented land, masking the blemishes with a light layer of earth. He got up to his feet, blinking away tears and nodded silently to himself. Time changes everything.

In the Time of Need

The clamoring sounds of the hasty footsteps echoed along the long dark corridor. A loud banging. A deep growl. The whole castle was awake now.

A flickering light emerged at one end of the corridor, footsteps growing louder.
A balding man, walking as fast as his faded robes would allow him,

emerged, holding a faded candlestick. The hot wax streamed down his fingers, dripping onto the faded tiles. But he seemed unaware.

Up two hundred faded steps. Past three faded doors. He finally reached the only hope.

The locker seemed as old as it was supposed to. The wood, as faded as the rest. He frantically shoved the rusted keys into the rusted hole,

hoping it was the right one. The key was right. But would the spell be?

Groping for his dusty spectacles he placed the book on the dusty table.
As he delicately sifted through the ancient tome, his exigency overcome by awe, he heard another pair of footsteps retracing his own, another candlelight reinforcing his own.

A young man, burst into the room. Gasping for breath, holding onto the door frame.

"The beast has almost got through the doors! The Holy water of the spring is powerless! What can we do, father?!"

"Leave our prayers to the elders. And hope they have not left us to the hands of this nightmare." Eyes did not leave the parched paper. Hands did not leave the dusty surfaces. Expression did not betray any fear. The young one seemed to tremble with every loud thud that echoed around the castle.

The old one could not allow his hands to tremble.

Finally a crash and a scream. An unearthly roar shook the foundations of the castle . His hands moved with more urgency, his calm now unsettled.

The pages seemed to speak about faith, and good. What about the dark?

The pages mentioned strength and discipline. What about the source?

There seemed to be none. But there was a spell.

Ahh.....the spell! To ask the elders to lend their strength. He had it.

He gazed up confidently at the quivering youth."I have it."

They hurried back down the stairs, and into the corridor, trying to ignore the screams. The roaring grew louder. Was he getting frightened as well? What could he do, when even the flames trembled around their wicks, when even the solid walls shook with disbelief. But, the spell….the Elders do not fear. He won’t either.

They reached the entrance hall. The sparkling grand door had been shattered. The sacred marble fountain had been blackened. The holy flames threw sinuous shadows across the bloody golden rugs. The roaring had stopped. It was replaced by the steady sound of the demon breathing, like the bellows of a forge, the dark breath of hell sucking life out of the fires.

The two turned to the glossy spiral staircase, that led to the second floor. There, perched on top of the rail, was the demon. Dark, almost black with horns twisting malevolently outward, claws dripping with blood of the holy and wings spread, throwing everything around into darkness.

The old man hesitated, spectacles slipping quietly off his finger. The youth stiffened, quietly reaching out to a shard of the marble fountain, ready to fend for himself. The old man held out a quivering hand, the sacred thread dangling dangerously.

"Don't be a fool." He reached into his robes, pulling out a faded locket, shaped like the staff of the elders. A circle, a line, a semi circle. The symbol of power.

With the same quivering hand he reached out to the demon, looking into its burning eyes.

The demon growled quietly, unsure of what the misinformed old fool had deluded himself to believe.

The old man, whispered, sure that the elders will grant him the strength.

Amron, Belurith athovaer ce brogardia et puritier mur voce.

The demon stood, snarling. Annoyed with the mindless faith with which the old man raised the meaningless symbol, uttered his meaningless incantations.

Amron, Belurith athovaer ce brogardia et puritier mur voce!

The demon leaped off the rail, gliding across to the blackened fountain. With a final desperate flourish the old man screamed again..

AMRON BELURITH, ATHOVAER CE BROGARDIA ET PURITI-

But the last words were cut off by the demons blazing claws. He was struck down into the ground, the holy symbol of eternal power clattering feebly onto the blood splattered floor. His faded robes fluttered slightly before they too turned motionless. His faded spectacles lay cracked, near his faded talisman. His faded book lay ripped open next to the faded candlestick. And the youth fell along with them all.