Archive for the 'Story' Category

The stench of flesh and the disgusting stone That is all that is left for me.

Objects that are lost are sometimes meant to be lost, and some things that are found should have never been found. Such was the case of the artifact I am holding in my very hand, which along with its unknown origins has brought nothing but misery to my human existence. I still remember the first of those accursedly stale afternoons. It was cold and the dead leaves marched outside the porch of the main house, and all that was unknown to the scenery was the uniformed man and the screams of my father. I was never very fond of my older brother and his unfathomable taste for adventure… He was always daddy’s boy: The handsome one, the strong and intelligent, the one who won everything, and the one who got everything. He was not the one who spent his nights reading in the dark, but maybe if he had been… then maybe the both of us would be elsewhere with our boring lives in our hands. Our lives, however, are no-where to be found. While my brother lies eternally exploring some dark pit of the wild world in the East, I shall remain hidden in a dark space below the main house — along with the things that now lie beside me, and the many more that are sure to come.

It must have been ten or twenty iterations after my brother departed from the realm of the living. My studies had begun to flourish and life was going to become much more colourful as I prepared to leave the house I was born into and the house I grew in for all eternity. My deep hours of study had granted me the tools needed to leave for better places filled with life and devoid of what was left of my mother and my father. Some say a parent should never bury a child, but I sure know that it is better for a parent to have something to bury than nothing at all, and since my brother was also a champion of hide-and-seek as a child, there was not much to be found when he was confirmed missing and certainly gone. All that he left behind was two brothers and their breeders, a wife who was quick to find a new husband, and his trophy room that forever shadowed my collection of encyclopaedias and tomes of the modern developments of mankind. It was in a moment of desperation and utter anxiety that I decided to curse that place for one last occasion and to see if there was something of interest among what was left of my brother.

In the times before emotion there was a collective of lands that came to be in the realm of the existent. In the realm of the existent they awaited for the time when emotion came to be, and the time when they could writhe with feeling. In the plane of the existent there is a simple law that binds lands into a eternal stupor when emotion is missing from their chasms and fields.

In the times before time, in a place where emotion was appointed to be, a land came to the conclusion that there was no need to wait for emotion to come to it, and instead came to the conclusion that it could create emotions of its own. In the voidful space within the verse that came to be the home for many an emotion, a land decided to have what no other land dared have on its own before, and something no other land would consider getting on its own ever after that. Before there were ideas or notions with which the universe could be identified, a land on its own decided to be more than a space waiting to be filled with feeling…