Wednesday, 11 October 2017

Revisitation.

It feels strange being back here again. Back here, after so long...

It doesn't feel like I wrote any of this. Like someone else used my hands to write their story, write their pain. It's been too long.

It's kind of like a snapshot, I suppose. Of a different me, with different worries and different hopes and different dreams. He had no idea of what he'd see, what he'd do in the years to come. I wonder what he'd think of all this? Did he expect us to take this path? Or try to veer away?

                                                                                                                                                                   

To me, it looked the same as when I first left it. The house stood there lone and wordless, like a dog waiting for his owner to come home. Lawn overgrown, windows boarded and broken, it doesn't look like my home anymore.

I walk into the ruined house, the door creaking and groaning as I slowly enter. It clatters back closed as I step forward, shaking loose some dust from the ceiling. Dancing, pirouetting in this loose breeze in a house that's only known stillness and quiet. The quiet, it returns too, enveloping the place, as if it had never left to begin with. Tranquility.


I enter the living room. It looks the same as any other, undisturbed, untouched. The couches, the chairs, the shelves, each with their own fine layer of dust - the one uniform aspect of the place. My presence here breaks the fragile tension of the place, each step sending the dust upwards in tangos and swings. Little shining motes dancing in the feeble rays coming in through the window. Everything else is where it was. The frames are still standing, the photos still preserved. Small little time capsules of another life. Another life. Smiling faces. A birthday cake being blown out. A family.

There's a mirror. Wiping the dust from it, and there I am. Weathered by age, worn by experience. The person in the mirror would be unrecognisable to the people that once lived here. Even I can't see myself in him. Is he really the same boy who lived here, who laughed here?

Heading into one of the rooms, I pause. I let the moment pass over me, taking note of that peaceful silence before I creak open the door, entering carefully, delicately. The bed's still tucked in nicely at least. The posters have long since gone. At least the books remained as they were, standing watch, yellowed and mostly legible. I don't recognise any of this.

Everything here has stood still, this one fixed point in time, while all around it has gone forward. I'm too far forward to appreciate this homecoming. It's all the same as before, and yet not - the image in my head doesn't match this tomb. It's too quiet. Too still. 

There's nothing. Nothing but quiet.


Friday, 17 October 2014

The Doctor.

Embedded image permalink
"The end is near..."
In darkness of soul and blackest night
Beauty fails to escape his sight
With wicked scythe and evil grin
Their flesh is his; their screams a din
Lurking among the dead and dying
Beware the Doctor; his lips are lying.



29th August, 12.00pm
I see them.
I hear them all, scurrying and fretting and skittering to the next destination in their schedules, not out of any sense of duty, but of necessity. To feed themselves, and their families.
Me? I am only one drop in an ocean of people. And the ocean won't care if I take one drop, will it?
Just one drop...
As if decreed by fate, I see my victim. She isn't my first, but she is certainly a greater item than the last I had. I see her red hair shimmering in the sunlight, her lithe figure stride across the streets with ease. Truly an item worth having.
She will be mine. Soon.

30th August, 01.37am
I saw her walking home among the lanterns. Safe among the light, but no more as she turned into darkness to head to safety. What she doesn't know is that the darkness is mine.
And I wield it
as a cloak
to keep me hidden.
Slowly, surely, I crept towards her, scythe in hand. My heart thumped in my chest, but I inched closer. Her footsteps tap out a nice rhythm; interrupted by our encounter. She pauses, afraid, indecisive - more than enough time for me to swing my scythe. I looked into her eyes as she died in front of me. I saw dreams, hopes, aspirations and goals that will never be attained or reached. A shame. But she now serves a greater purpose.

30th August, 03.05am
Such exquisite material to work with! She has been as promising as her looks suggest - a bountiful source of flesh and tendons. A shame there aren't more people like her in this swollen city, but I am certain that there are more out there. Their sinews are my rope, and their flesh is my clay to shape and mould into my own beautiful creation.
A frightful mess has been made of the remains - what am I to do with them?

2nd September, 21.27pm
20 tendons
164 fragments of bone for skeletal structure
8 spoonfuls of marrow
1 spines, 6 (single) vertebrae
1 hip
1 skull, still need brain
3.5 liters of blood
Need more sinews

2nd September, 1.57amA beautiful specimen lies silent in the cage - a blonde this time, thankfully muted now that she knows there is no escape. I always wondered by humans do that, why they fight when they know that hope is lost. Baffling.
Unlocking the cage door, I took her by the arm when she tries to charge me, but her blows were faint and her resolve more so. Sighing to myself, I grabbed her head and broke her neck. That snap... goodness, I love that.
She's so fragile. I must remain more calm in the future.

5th September, 11.34am
Rainy day today. Not many people out - they're all indoors, sitting by the fire, laughing, enjoying themselves.
I only wanted her back. Why was she taken from me? What have I done to deserve this?
I do not know - but she will be reunited with me in time. I just need more ingredients.
I need them now.

5th September, 18.05pm
New prey for the harvest.
A sloppy affair - after the first had been dispatched, the second had screamed and screamed. She screamed until I cut her throat, and then she too fell silent. I regret that I was only able to take one of the women before the sirens came and the authorities gathered.
Never mind all though, I guess one is better than none. I was close to being caught; I cannot become so careless.
But she... she is so close to completion. I cannot fail now.

9th September, 20.47pm
The moon is so bright tonight.

She died under its glow. And under its glow will I bring my love back to the realm of the living.
Everything is assembled, and oh how it fits together! She is perfect. A paragon of perfection.
She died too soon. All these deaths, murders, whatever the ignorant will call them, they are all little stepping stones to my ultimate goal. Now, me and my love will be reunited, and no longer will we be torn asunder.

9th September, 00.00am
My God, what have I done?
She is not what I wanted. Her voice is rot, her body a ruined patchwork of skin and red flesh. All of my work, ALL of it, is failure and ash.
I cannot face her. I cannot face anyone anymore.
As I write this, I hear her banging on the walls of the adjacent room. Begging, pleading, screaming - I can't bear to gaze upon her form.

It is time for me to go now.

Source of image: https://twitter.com/LakenAQW/status/505947976385462272/photo/1

Friday, 3 October 2014

Under the Roots.

"An outcast, an outlaw..."



Under the Tree: Nidhogg
Under the roots
Of Yggdrasil mighty
Darkness reigns supreme
No light there shines
No beacon, no sight
Only silence and darkest night.

Yet further still
There lurks a monster
Hungry, awake, and imprisoned
Trapped underneath
The bars of the tree
Where serpents wind and sleep.

An outcast, an outlaw
So great, yet fallen
Evil and vile to the core
No honor, no love
Quiet, yet raging
And living in midnight eternal.

Horrific monster?
or damnable beast?
Chains imprison the wyrm
Though not with fire
And not with guile
Will Malice break free of his jail.

Instead upon the roots
Does the fell beast gnaw 
Feasting on life and fear
The smaller beasts cower
And the gods remain ignorant
Of their fortress crying within.

Though great branches touch the sky
And ancient roots stretch deep
Nidhogg stays his wrath
The beasts are his food
And life is his drink
Down here in the under; he is death from below.

Nidhogg image source: https://tobiasmastgrave.wordpress.com/tag/nidhogg/

Friday, 19 September 2014

Eater of Worlds.

"Scales tough as diamond..."

Eater of Worlds: Jormungand
Under the silence of the deep
There rests a darkness foul and profane
Slumbering tight in endless sleep
All who could oppose it now broken and maimed
One single heart beats slowly through the ages
Eyes of the beast still shut
Though eons may pass and mankind still rages
The hunger of the Beast - for now - remains glut.


Two orbs of fire shine through the abyss
A monster awake and alive
To feast on the world and on mortals' bliss
Even the gods cannot survive
The earth is afraid and men are the prey
Of the ungodly beast fast as an arrow
Rending metal like straw and stone like clay
The beacon of man falls into shadow.

Rippled coils unwind and shake the earth
The mountains broken and cities drowned
Fire and ash beget unholy birth
The beginning of the end - salvation never found
As the people weep at their broken world
A presence makes itself clear
One lost voice will at last be heard
That of Jormungand; bringer of Fear.

Gods will be slain and oceans shall boil
Yet not even they can outlast
The Serpent that holds the world in its coils
And when it lets go, peace shatters like glass
Though thunder and lightning may best the snake
Its venom will fell the last divine
Mjollnir will tumble, the ground will quake
And monsters and legends fall into the brine.


Source of Jormungand image: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Jormungand-182144813

Friday, 5 September 2014

The Ceremony.

"I am Abaddon, but I have many names; seducer, abuser... destroyer."

Where am I?
Now awake, I open my eyes and attempt to survey my surroundings. However, some presence, some influence keeps me in place, preventing me from rising. Fear rises within, and my heart continues to beat faster the more I move about my position. Struggling and straining against the unknown phenomenon, I find that to my horror, I am bound to a small stone altar, and no matter how much I writhe, I find that my efforts are in vain. Looking up, I can see the reddened sky, the sun still shining as it begins to dip. To my left, I look down at an endless chasm, sinister yellow fog rolling and chundering within, sometimes even spilling up the rocky walls. The sight is same to my right, but in both cases I could see the fog shift within certain spots, as if there unknowable things lurking under the evil ocean.

"Enjoying the view?" asked a nearing voice.
"Who are you? What do you want with me?" I replied.

Answering neither of those questions, whomever spoke strode towards me, footsteps getting louder until at last, he stood above me, peering down with a wicked grin. The man was roughly the same height as me, wearing a nondescript blue robe fit for a man of worship, save for the small crimson pentagram upon his chest. He was perhaps forty years old, grey stubble and shallow wrinkles betraying his age, and upon his hands there were burnt small ovals, each glowing dimly with unknown energy. Upon his waist, he had a plain leather belt with various pouches, but what drew my attention the most was a small sleek scabbard, and within, a curved fit for carving... or gouging.

"My name is not important. What I will do and your purpose here, is." said the man.
"Do you know what lies sleeping underneath this valley? Of course you don't - you are young, too young to know of what once walked upon the earth before our race stood for the first time.
I was once like you. Naive, foolish.. and ignorant of the horrors that still stride in the darkest depths and the highest mountains. Perhaps ignorance would be the preferable state of mind - but fate had other plans for me. You see, I heard Him. I heard His voice speak to me when the night was at its peak and the trees were hushed. I heard His plans for the world and how He would carry them out. But to do any of that, He needed help. He needed a human agent, an agent to find someone, anyone, and bring them to this altar for His ascension. Only then would He rise once more into the world of men."
"Is he a god?" I asked.
"Not a god... a demon. And you shall be his first offering."

Struggling once more, I attempted to free myself, as the man withdrew the knife from his scabbard. As I tried to free myself, it seemed that he was almost mocking me, knowing he had all the time in the world as long as I remained bound. Withdrawing his knife, he readied himself to plunge it into my chest, but I had other plans. Lurching suddenly to my left, keeping the altar between me and him, I broke free of my bonds and fell down near the cliff's edge, mere inches away from falling into the depths below. Hearing the knife slam down onto stone, I saw my chance. Charging at him, I jumped onto the altar and tackled him to the ground, causing the knife to skid away from the both of us. Swinging a hard right, my fist impacted flesh, yet he was unfazed. Soon, it was him that was in control, and as he readied a bolt of arcane magic on his right hand, I grabbed him and pushed him against the altar, giving me space to reach for the knife. Leaping towards it, I manage to grab it, but my small triumph does not last long as the hooded figure hurls bolts of fire at me. In one fluid action, I skirt to the side, only just avoiding both fireballs, before attempting to stab the foul sorcerer straight in his chest. Instead of impacting him, the knife hits thin air, and before I could turn, I was impacted by a fireball, knocking next to the altar with the energy taken out of me.

"Any last words?" sneered the sorcerer.

Before he could ready another spell, I tripped him up with my legs, causing him to fall face first onto the altar. As he lay dazed, I managed to pull myself back onto my feet, when he soon began his offense. Throwing a wayward punch, he drove me back a few steps, before I sent him sprawling onto the stone shrine once more. Lying on his back, he gasped in shock as I drove the knife into him, holding on like a madman possessed. After a few seconds passed, I withdrew, the blood spurting out and pooling on the floor. Bleeding out, the sorcerer managed to utter a few last words before he died.

"What - What have you done?"

He would never get an answer to his question, and soon the life faded from him.
Before I could turn to leave, I could feel the ground rumble under my feet. Soon the rumble grew into a tremor - many tremors in fact, and as I struggled to stand, an almighty silhouette rose out of the yellow mist, towering over me as if I were only an ant.
Looking up at it, I was utterly, completely dwarfed by the menace this sorcerer had helped to raise.
A mountain stood in front of me, awakened and angry. Rotting, slender legs supported a heaving, rattling chest; upon its left there was present a foul turquoise heart, shining with a phosphorescence both appalling and alluring. Veins carried ichor from the heart and into the arms, reaching the hands and illuminating small elliptical shapes along the palms - similar to those upon the late sorcerer's hands. Great angelic wings stretched out from the beast's back, both as dull and bleak as the yellow fog of the canyon below. Its fingers were tipped with wicked claws, each one longer than a grown man was tall. Atop its head, two great horns stretched into the heavens, both crooked, twisted instruments of death and destruction. Yellowed teeth clicked and clacked as five red eyes shone through the mist, beaming red light shining upon the now-crimson altar - only for them to shift their gaze to the dead body upon it. Raising one palm, the slit upon it opened, revealing a bulbous eye that shimmered in the manner of a flame. Looking into that eye, I could see many things, horrible things too profane and unholy to describe, yet if only for an instant it was not me that stared into the eye; the eye was the one staring into me. Soon switching focus, the eye turned to the sorcerer.
The body rose into the air, the same turquoise energy that powered the daemon's dead heart now streaming from the dead man into the beast itself, withering the fresh corpse in a matter of seconds. Soon enough, the body was dropped to the floor, withered and desiccated beyond recognition. Those same red eyes now turned towards me.

"At last... I am free." said the daemon.
"I am Abaddon, but I have many names; seducer, abuser... destroyer. You were never the one to be sacrificed - I needed the soul of someone ready to give their life for me. Now I am free, and ready to return to the waking world once more.
Thanks to your efforts, you are the one who has at last freed me from eternal imprisonment - that is no small feat. Just this once, I will allow you to run from the end of the world as you know it.
If you do not... pain will be the absolute least of your worries."
"I am not afraid of you." I said.
"And I will stop you, no matter the cost."
"Hah!" 
"I am older than oceans and greater than mountains. I am the Insurmountable.
I have conquered kings and broken heroes, shattered hopes and swallowed dreams; there is no one, living or dead, that can dare to challenge my might!
Your bravado will prove to be your undoing. For many, many years, I have remained imprisoned, shackled by those too ignorant, too fearful to realize that change is inevitable. Someone has to be the harbinger of a revolution - and I am that, and much, much more. Now, I cannot be stopped. I will not be stopped. And before you know it, all that you know and all that you love will become that which you walk on... dust."

And with that, the daemon's wings unfurled to reveal their full, overwhelming might. Beating downwards with the sound of thunder, it shot up into the sky before setting off, bloodthirsty and vengeful.
Feeling the ground rumble once again, I was knocked back by a sudden, horrifying emergence. I was even more shocked to witness incalculable shapeless shadows flit out from the fog and into the skies, only for me to realize they were not shadows; they were the demon's own wretched spawn, ravenous and ready to scour the earth of life. Though they were small, they were numerous, and their screams blotted out all other sound, to the point where I could not hear myself think.
The onslaught did not stop, and it seemed that with each passing moment, more of these would pour out from hell's mouth and into the waking world.
Father, what have I done?

Source of image: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Demon-Ceremony-Final-377000184

Friday, 22 August 2014

Malady.

"I soon realized that I was not alone."


The month of November is unnaturally bleak. Even though it is the month before festivities begin and the whole world is alight in celebration and goodwill, November has always been associated with cold and melancholy, with death and misery - and this year, misery had come home to roost.
He hadn't seen it coming. No-one foresaw it, and no-one could have seen it anyways, for this was something that seemingly no one had experienced before. It had begun with fever, which could have easily been attributed to a simple infection. But over time, the symptoms had worsened. Dark blotches grew around his eyes, with black tendrils rolling down the face in the manner of tears. Soon, his skin was pallid, a deathly shade of white that was scarily reminiscent of a wraith rather than a human. His hair grew brittle and his mind more so, his personality eroded until he could scarcely head out of his own house unless for essentials. It was merciful when he at last passed away, yet with his peace, none of us could figure out just what had struck him. I kept such thoughts out of my mind for the time being as I approached the open coffin, peering at someone I would never see again. His features were more relaxed this time, the tension in his muscles and the worry in his face all gone, and had he been living I presumed he would have smiled at such an occurrence. Dressed in his best clothes and peaceful at last, save for that unpleasant shade of skin, he was at last ready to depart - but of all people, why him? Why take my closest friend away?
Leaving his side before any tears fell, I took my place at the nearest seat to listen to the eulogies prepared by his family and friends. It was what anyone would expect from commemorative speeches - praises of his success in life, comments on the friendships he built, even a few childhood memories from when he and I were young, but none of those memories could take away from the fact that my friend was gone, and nothing would change that. No matter what I thought at the time, I was in grief, and no eulogy, no matter how moving, could shake me from sadness. There were sobs, tears, whispered condolences and unsaid words, but all throughout, I was silent, listening intently to every word so as to gain some measure of solace, to know that I was not alone in this ordeal. But it was not to be.

The hours passed by faster than expected; the casket was closed, and one by one, people filtered out the grounds and headed home, perhaps eager to move on from this as quickly as possible.
I stayed by the freshly-dug grave, even as the sun above began to wane and dip into the horizon, rushing in the early hours of twilight once it was fully under. It was good to be alone for once - I noticed that without outside eyes to peer, I was relaxed and able to say my goodbyes without fear of judgement.
I soon realized that I was not alone.
Behind me, I could hear muted footsteps - a distinct pattern not belonging to any beast or mongrel dog, but to a human. The sound remained in the distance, yet I still remained unnerved.
What was this sound?
Who else was in here with me?
Acting as if nothing was wrong, I said my goodbyes and turned briskly towards the nearest exit.
Behind me, I heard those footsteps increase in intensity - and they were heading toward me. Soon I broke from restrained walk to a swift sprint, running away as quickly as I could from my would-be pursuer. Even as I gained speed, so did my menace, keeping the same speed but also their distance, almost in the manner of a lion hunting gazelle. Twisting and turning among the gravestones, apologizing in my head to those I had stomped over in my haste, I made for a nearby bough of trees, hoping I would be able to hide from my pursuer there. I would be proved wrong. No matter how far I ran, the presence would always home in on my position, and I would be forced to escape the concealment of the trees and make my way towards the nearest exit. Nearing the gate, I at last would be safe - until it suddenly slammed shut, barring me in with my hunter. Faced with no other option, slowly I turned to meet my pursuer. What I saw was not what I was expecting.

The figure stood two to three inches taller than me, gaunt and lean and wiry. It donned a robe of leadened grey, giving it the appearance of some unhallowed reaper. A wide featureless hood hid its face from prying eyes, leaving only shadow where its face would normally be.
Moving down thin arms, I noticed its hands were not those of the living - they were skeletal and sinister in form, little strands of bleached flesh keeping them together. I could feel an aura of menace and anger, of misery and melancholy around whatever stood before me; not even the normally boisterous birds dared to chirp out their song - as was fitting for a place of mourning, all was silent.
I was unnerved by the being before me, and before I could properly think, the figure slowly strode towards me. Rushing forward, I charged at the white wraith, hoping to take it down to the ground. Though I was successful, it was able to react accordingly, and soon threw me back against the gates with unnatural force, knocking the vigor out of me and preventing me from taking immediate action. Slumped against the bars of the gate, I could do nothing in my current state, only remain slumped against the gate as the hooded thing drew closer towards me. With the breath knocked out of me, I could only watch in horror as it extended out a hand not towards me, but my throat, clenching tightly and lifting me from the floor with ease.
Holding me in mid-air, I at last glimpsed the face of the being; and never had I been more shocked.
"No... this cannot be. What have you done?" I asked.
"He is no more, and I have taken his place." said the figure, before its eyes shone with a sickening red. All at once, I could feel the life being quite literally drained from me; in an instant, I was wasting away before my own eyes. As decades passed by in seconds, I could only let out a small gasp as I was dropped on the ground, this time never to get up at all. Looking up, I looked back into the face of this malevolent creature; a face that was a warped reflection of my dead friend.

Source of image: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Reaper-416759404

Friday, 8 August 2014

Physeter.

"A geyser of blood spraying out..."
Why do you persist?
Why do you and your ilk insist on hunting me as if I were some prize to be gained?
It does not matter how far I swim, for I tire and your wooden beasts are able to make the distance. Nor does it matter how deep I swim, though I can reach depths far beyond you or any of your kin, in time I must return to the surface for a gulp of air; and that's when you strike.
Your fleet encircles me as sharks would, the vessels' paths converging towards one position; mine.
Some of them possess a bulk as great as mine, with great masts stretching upwards into the sky, armed to the greatest extent, whereas beside them, the most foolish of men row straight towards me, even though they are dwarfed by my size.

Weakened from fatigue, I cannot prevent the onslaught about to occur.
Gunshots fill the air, bullets thudding into the sea and into me, leaving little pockmarks where they embedded themselves. The loud roar of a cannon overshadows all for a moment, before its deliverance falls wayward, striking the water several feet to my side.
Positioning yourself to my side, your men stand upon the railings; some in awe at what they chase, others growing wary and hesitant. Even so, you let out a cry, and the men attack. Teeth of steel bite into my flesh, and though they may be little wounds, blood still sprays and I still scream in agony. Lashing out, my tail smacks straight into the side of your ship, sending splinters of wood flying in all directions, crippling your vessel.
Your men panic, but still they shout, still they dig their steel into my back, and still they cut my blubber.
Writhing, I dislodge few, but the damage is already done - somehow, I wriggle out, only to be stopped by a painful sensation in my back. Looking back with dim vision, I can only make out several tendrils buried in me and leading straight back to your ship.

Clever; you've kept me in place and prevented me from leaving - or so you think.
Once more, my fluke is a hammer, smacking upon your vessel, cracking and splintering wood, letting the ocean pour in and drown you and all those by your side. Again
and again
and again
I continue.
Until, at last, your vessel is no more than dead weight by my side, the pieces crumbling as they sink into the depths. The ropes fray and one by one, they break, freeing me from your vice.
I feel your ship sinking down, slowly but surely swallowed by the hungry ocean
Swimming free, I turn. I cannot dive, I am too weak, too tired, too drained to move as quickly as I would want.
Cannot think
Mind muddled - and then it was too late.
I am surrounded - I try to dive down, but the pain is too much. From within, my organs bleed, and the effect that has is very noticeable. Slowing to a crawl, I breathe out, a geyser of blood spraying out onto the water, spreading further out as the seconds pass by.

And now my eyes close. Before I sleep, I can feel the blades once more cutting into my flesh, cutting out chunks of meat and blubber. My oil you burn; even as it slicks the floors of your ships, your fire consumes the last drops, and that which is not burnt, you take for your people.
My vision dims. My jaw hangs without vigour. I choke on the blood that once flew through my veins.
Pumping out blood by the gallons, my heart falters and sputters for the last few seconds of my life, until at last it gives up the fight, and I am no more.

Watching from the depths, a lone whale watches its mother drift listlessly on the waves, torn into by small silhouettes distorted by the light.
Falling back into the darkness, the watcher looks once more before turning away, now alone in the midnight ocean.

Source of whale image: http://www.antiquemapsandprints.com/books/WHALING-BULLEN-1899.htm