| ...and
the tormented took the pain silently, never harboring animosity or
hatred, no. For he knew, with every lash dealt, every scar visible to
all who can sense without sight, perceive to the inner depths of the
void of crimson red and know exactly how superficial that void is, he
knew that it would make him better. For he knew, with every bruise in
the bone or break in the skin his body would heal. And, for he also
knew, he shall spring forth from his body anew and crawl out of
himself, reborn, rejuvenated, relinquished from the fires of hell....
...and in his hand he held a knife. With that knife he slit his own
wrists and watched the blood surge forth. He felt the agony of his
death approaching, yet he welcomed it. With a broad smile he looked at
death. He hid behind his smile. His smile. The only weapon left to
fight off a death he welcomed like his own child. And as death
approached, it took upon the form of a woman. With a figure so tempting
she approached, armed with a smile of her own. She knew he could not
resist. As she approached he slowly drew away, shuffling towards the
cliff behind, the darkness below, the emptiness within. He felt her
drain away his energy. He felt her steal his vigor until he was little
more than wasted away. With her face a mere inch away, her intoxicating
scent ever so present in the air, eyes piercing through his eyes and
straight through the heart, she reached out to capture her prey. It was
then he fell. He leaned back and fell to the blackness, disappearing
from her sight, out of range from her piercing scream. He watched as
the blood from his wrist trailed behind and glow. It first glowed a
crimson red but then became lighter and lighter in shade and weight
until it merely floated alongside. He watched with amazement at his
wrist, no longer pouring blood but light. Powerful streams of light
shot forth from his wrist and illuminated the black until he could see.
As he closed his eyes he felt wings sprout from the blades of his
shoulder. He imagined himself taking flight, gliding on air currents in
the sky. As his eyes opened, he saw. What a sight he saw. And the first
sight he saw was of her, outraged at her loss...
...He finally saw the path he must walk. And with a smile, the tormented knows of his future... |
