A Nightmare Reborn
Chapter 3 Part 1
In the end, the grisly reality was that none of this was to truly happen. Alice’s intentions were gray and scarlet in color, her motives running in blissful chaos. Was she to replace what was missing in her, running to my dwelling place only to find a hapless lovestruck assistant fit to do her bidding? I am not that favored, as she was merely selecting me as a loyal servant who could handle her inseverities with the common approach. I, am hers, and, she, is what has fed my insanity all along. The possession that runs through me is orchestrated now by her, which means Althia, the old God, is now at my control. Whether its true form is of a man or a woman, I do not care. If she is one then she must be the other. I cannot bother myself with trivial notions. Nothing until now has mattered, intentional or not. My life seeks to seize the folds of time that has swallowed my dignity. Conscience must surrender now. Let bygones be rid, as my enemies that manifest as the past beasts are nothing as they seemed before. Spiders, wolves, goats, cur, be rid. Be rid, my foul profaners of the mind’s nether regions. You've done nothing but curse my admonishments, the ones that cover me and veil the stinging light from my eyes. Be rid, be rid!
My progressive trek had led me to another abandoned campsite. This one had bodies of beasts impaled upon wooden pikes. From them hung flesh that had not attracted flies, much to my curious mind. The amazement that can beheld by the inquisitive mind is a patient thrall’s delight. There is something that jests me, however. The beasts here are dead. Who may have slew them, if only beasts dare tread here? Suddenly, I became hyper-vigililant. My attunement increased with the perceived threat that lurks around me. I heard the whispers that hissed in my mind, ones telling me to reach for my gun. As I gripped my black Saturday Night Special, my clammy hand glued its trigger to my finger, and I pointed instinctively at the impaled beast. Much to my expectations, one twitched, and then fell to the ground. It gained its feet, and moved slowly towards me, still impaled. Its gait was absolutely inhuman, it moving cautiously towards me. It's face and fur hid any distinct features, and its horns curved sharply behind its head. It resembled an upright sheep or ram, which one, I could not tell. It enchanted me with each inhuman movement towards me, its abnormality passing barely for even a deranged beast. Its eyes finally became visible when it was a few mere yards away, their color being lavender. What sort of beast sports such a strange color for irises? Surrounding those large eyes was a patch of flesh that hung from its face, it more than likely being injured in the fight with whatever or whoever was its hunter. As I squeezed the trigger twice, finally, the shots screaming on the silent plane, each bullet piercing its bizarre right eye, blood flying from its rotting face. As it let out a blood curdling roar that could only indicate its agony, I watched as it died and reverted to its normal form.
Crouching at the former beasts body, I realized that it had turned into a nearly naked human, its gender only a bit distinguishable. It appeared to be my instructor from the college I had attended for a brief while before entering the police force. His muscles had turned into starved tendons, and his expression was one of mourning. We had gotten along well at the university, and I questioned why he was here. Did someone bring him here only to be slaughtered? Is that why he did not attack in his beastial form? Did he somehow recall my appearance, even after all these years, as I had identified him? His now blue flesh was a grim reminder of even his mortality, for I had idolized this man, at least in the past. Now he is hardly worth envying. His blood-stained graying hair hid what former crown of glory he may have possessed. Now, I am his final murderer, my pride evaporated from every bit of my fiber. This is something I did not want to do, yea, my intentions wavering back to the side that constructed my own life. He was someone who did not taunt me, someone who tried to support me. His weathered coat lay in shreds on top of him, his pants in tatters. What was most disturbing about Benjamin’s dead body was that he bore a smile. His right eye was no more, yet his left one had that accusing glare to it, one that said,
“You! You!”
I can't believe the pain that I'm now feeling. I shouldn't, but I care that he is dead. Should I have let him take my own life instead? The thoughts shot through my mind, each one telling of a past that had haunted me, ever so slightly, for years. Only now may I face it, a gift given to me, the hapless receiver, by my dark mistress. She has brought me to my mind’s edge, pushing me over, so gently, so casually. My conscience was on overload. It led me to do only one thing. Burn his body, with a match, with a spark, with a flame, with a fire. Goodbye, Ben, may your sorrow haunt me ever so pleasantly. Your death will not be in vain. You have taught me that that my past life was not devoid of good. You were a harbor in a storm that was my torturous past. As the smell of your burning flesh invaded my nostrils, I welcomed it.
As the fire crackled, Benjamin still bore his smile, this being represented in only his grinning jaw. I sat down, drawing warmth from the dying fire. I had lost my incentive to go on further. I will sit here and do what has been commanded of me, to feel grief. How blind I was. My life was the same as the others, good, bad. No one leads a truly perfect life, not even close. The more I delve into the madness, the more I realize that wisdom has a cost. Repentance is not a choice now. It's a necessity that has been calling me for years. What a horrible harness that has secured me to my pillaged hope. As I laid down, I closed my eyes, a grin forming on my face. We share this emotion now, Ben. We share a bond. You are the one who taught me how to fire that gun, my bullet taking your life, once and for all. Oh, the irony, my fallen friend. We are two feathered wings to this bird that is called life. You were my opposite, keeping me in the sky. What a curse. Now I must join the other beast.
Chapter 3 Part 1
In the end, the grisly reality was that none of this was to truly happen. Alice’s intentions were gray and scarlet in color, her motives running in blissful chaos. Was she to replace what was missing in her, running to my dwelling place only to find a hapless lovestruck assistant fit to do her bidding? I am not that favored, as she was merely selecting me as a loyal servant who could handle her inseverities with the common approach. I, am hers, and, she, is what has fed my insanity all along. The possession that runs through me is orchestrated now by her, which means Althia, the old God, is now at my control. Whether its true form is of a man or a woman, I do not care. If she is one then she must be the other. I cannot bother myself with trivial notions. Nothing until now has mattered, intentional or not. My life seeks to seize the folds of time that has swallowed my dignity. Conscience must surrender now. Let bygones be rid, as my enemies that manifest as the past beasts are nothing as they seemed before. Spiders, wolves, goats, cur, be rid. Be rid, my foul profaners of the mind’s nether regions. You've done nothing but curse my admonishments, the ones that cover me and veil the stinging light from my eyes. Be rid, be rid!
My progressive trek had led me to another abandoned campsite. This one had bodies of beasts impaled upon wooden pikes. From them hung flesh that had not attracted flies, much to my curious mind. The amazement that can beheld by the inquisitive mind is a patient thrall’s delight. There is something that jests me, however. The beasts here are dead. Who may have slew them, if only beasts dare tread here? Suddenly, I became hyper-vigililant. My attunement increased with the perceived threat that lurks around me. I heard the whispers that hissed in my mind, ones telling me to reach for my gun. As I gripped my black Saturday Night Special, my clammy hand glued its trigger to my finger, and I pointed instinctively at the impaled beast. Much to my expectations, one twitched, and then fell to the ground. It gained its feet, and moved slowly towards me, still impaled. Its gait was absolutely inhuman, it moving cautiously towards me. It's face and fur hid any distinct features, and its horns curved sharply behind its head. It resembled an upright sheep or ram, which one, I could not tell. It enchanted me with each inhuman movement towards me, its abnormality passing barely for even a deranged beast. Its eyes finally became visible when it was a few mere yards away, their color being lavender. What sort of beast sports such a strange color for irises? Surrounding those large eyes was a patch of flesh that hung from its face, it more than likely being injured in the fight with whatever or whoever was its hunter. As I squeezed the trigger twice, finally, the shots screaming on the silent plane, each bullet piercing its bizarre right eye, blood flying from its rotting face. As it let out a blood curdling roar that could only indicate its agony, I watched as it died and reverted to its normal form.
Crouching at the former beasts body, I realized that it had turned into a nearly naked human, its gender only a bit distinguishable. It appeared to be my instructor from the college I had attended for a brief while before entering the police force. His muscles had turned into starved tendons, and his expression was one of mourning. We had gotten along well at the university, and I questioned why he was here. Did someone bring him here only to be slaughtered? Is that why he did not attack in his beastial form? Did he somehow recall my appearance, even after all these years, as I had identified him? His now blue flesh was a grim reminder of even his mortality, for I had idolized this man, at least in the past. Now he is hardly worth envying. His blood-stained graying hair hid what former crown of glory he may have possessed. Now, I am his final murderer, my pride evaporated from every bit of my fiber. This is something I did not want to do, yea, my intentions wavering back to the side that constructed my own life. He was someone who did not taunt me, someone who tried to support me. His weathered coat lay in shreds on top of him, his pants in tatters. What was most disturbing about Benjamin’s dead body was that he bore a smile. His right eye was no more, yet his left one had that accusing glare to it, one that said,
“You! You!”
I can't believe the pain that I'm now feeling. I shouldn't, but I care that he is dead. Should I have let him take my own life instead? The thoughts shot through my mind, each one telling of a past that had haunted me, ever so slightly, for years. Only now may I face it, a gift given to me, the hapless receiver, by my dark mistress. She has brought me to my mind’s edge, pushing me over, so gently, so casually. My conscience was on overload. It led me to do only one thing. Burn his body, with a match, with a spark, with a flame, with a fire. Goodbye, Ben, may your sorrow haunt me ever so pleasantly. Your death will not be in vain. You have taught me that that my past life was not devoid of good. You were a harbor in a storm that was my torturous past. As the smell of your burning flesh invaded my nostrils, I welcomed it.
As the fire crackled, Benjamin still bore his smile, this being represented in only his grinning jaw. I sat down, drawing warmth from the dying fire. I had lost my incentive to go on further. I will sit here and do what has been commanded of me, to feel grief. How blind I was. My life was the same as the others, good, bad. No one leads a truly perfect life, not even close. The more I delve into the madness, the more I realize that wisdom has a cost. Repentance is not a choice now. It's a necessity that has been calling me for years. What a horrible harness that has secured me to my pillaged hope. As I laid down, I closed my eyes, a grin forming on my face. We share this emotion now, Ben. We share a bond. You are the one who taught me how to fire that gun, my bullet taking your life, once and for all. Oh, the irony, my fallen friend. We are two feathered wings to this bird that is called life. You were my opposite, keeping me in the sky. What a curse. Now I must join the other beast.
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