Post by Sekot on Jul 26, 2008 21:40:47 GMT -5
((So yeah. I like to write. I'm pretty damn bad at creating stories and what not, so I'd like to start to formulate some of my ideas into a collection that may, at one point, begin to become a book.
This is where it begins. Each post is essentially created on the spot with only a smattering of thought put in beforehand. I don't expect this to be great, or awesome, or anything. I don't even care if you read it. I just want this to be someplace where I may get some feedback every now and again. Just to inflate my ego and all that =P.
WARNING: I do not write kind. I do not write happy stories. I am graphic. I choose to show you a world of stark realism, or the darker side of the imagination. I choose to show you the horrors, and hope that you can find the good. This story will not be suitable for the young. Nor is it suitable for those who are happy, carefree people who love everything and hug trees on a regular basis and give out carebear stares like candy.
I am a Forsaken at heart after all.))
Pain.
Pain is a teacher. Some refuse to see it as such. They believe it to be a negative thing; a monster best left forgotten in the dark corners. But pain can be overcome. Nevermind the cliche that pain is only a state of mind. It is very real. But it can be used as a driving force, accept your pain and you can use it. Where once you were a student, you now become a teacher. It is an endless cycle. The student is always a teacher, and the teacher is always a student.
But how does one accept their pain? How does one use it to fuel their desires and emotions? How does one master pain and enslave it after once being a thrall to agony?
All these thoughts are contemplated by the single creature in the room.
For he is being taught. He is on his way to becoming a teacher.
Encased in writhing tentacles, he is unaware of his surroundings. Not that there is much to look at. The room is empty except for him and the contraption he is strapped to. Instruments dangle from it, raised just before the man's eyes. Though he is conscious, his thoughts perceive nothing other than the white hot agony. Every nerve fires in response to the intense stimulation. There is searing, there is freezing, there is grating, and there is scratching.
Time. What is time? An eternity, a second, it all means nothing to this man. Freedom? There is no such thing. There is only the machine and the man and their inescapable, unbreakable bond.
A door opens and footsteps echo. Hollow and heavy against the cold, white stone floor. "How are we doing today?" the voice coos, light and airy.
The man looks up, his eyes fluttering against the intense pain this simple act causes him. The figure looks back at him, a blurry mess with undecipherable features. Slowly the man begins to discern a slender, dark purple face. Red eyes glow from deeply seated sockets. A thin, pointed nose and thin cheeks. Long raven black hair and slender, pointed ears. She is beautiful by all standards. The man had found her attractive when he first met her, his lust visibly showing itself to her.
The elven woman had paid him no heed. She had become his teacher, and he quickly discovered how much he hated her. For a time, the man had had enough strength to want to annihilate the woman from where she stood. But the symbiote had not allowed that. Instead, she taught him lessons, and this dulled his strength until he was barely able to lift his head to glare at her.
Today, he only stared dumbly, awaiting the lessons that were sure to come. The elf looked upon him without pity or remorse. Her slender hand ran itself along his cheek and down his neck. She massaged his shoulder and leaned in a little closer. The man suddenly noticed that she smelled differently. His senses were set ablaze by the scent of delicate flowers and spring fields.
Her hand ran down his lean, malnourished chest and his abdomen. The man saw her once again as a beautiful creature. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. He wanted to reach out to her and touch her, caress her as she was caressing him. Had she finally shown kindness? Had she come to free him and love him?
As her hand came to his groin, she leaned in close to his ear. Her lips parted, bearing her gorgeous teeth and deft tongue. "You seek companionship..." she whispered, her voice intoxicating. The man felt pleasure as if it was new and exciting. "You seek....love?"
The man now noticed that the elf wore no clothing. She was as slender and lithe as no creature he had ever seen. He closed his eyes, tasting her scent, wishing for her sweet kiss. "All this...."
The man let out a single moan.
"Is not yours and never will be."
The man's moan swiftly turned into a scream. The tentacles wrapped around his body suddenly pulled in different directions. Where the woman's warm touch had been was now a forest of knives. He felt fire from his groin rise up to his shoulder and across his cheek. His ear blistered and boiled.
The elf stepped back, her gaze cold and evaluating. The man tried to twist, but a sickening pop that signaled the dislocation of his shoulders and legs caused him to stop. He could not scream, he could not move. He hung in the embrace, in the void. The only thing he saw was the woman that had promised so much, and then had taken all away.
She had taken everything. Nothing was his. His body was useless, an empty container. Death was a lie. There was only agony. He could feel his flesh being torn apart, his bones becoming exposed to the open air. The woman, naked as the day she was born, meant nothing to him. She was a betrayer, a liar, a thief, and a teacher.
The man understood.
Death was indeed a lie. Life was enslavement. There was nothing there for anyone or anything. "NO!" she shouted, her words piercing his thoughts.
"Life is everything."
The man looked at her, clearly confused. The elf stepped forward and stared at him straight in the eye. "Give in to life, give in to what created you. What is this thing you've come to live with? What is holding you back?"
The man searched for the answers to her questions. But the pain, it was too great. He felt his appendages being stretched to their limits, he felt his body burn. "What were you before this?" the woman asked.
The man thought. He had been nothing, a creature of basic emotions and searching for simple pleasure. Was not this woman just another one of his lustful endeavors that always ended in pain? Was not his being here a product of his own failure? He had been nothing. Worse than nothing. "That is right," the female said. "You are still nothing. But you can become something. Death is not a lie, for you are dead now. Would you call this life? Where is the joy, the sorrow?"
There was nothing. Was he truly dead?
"Yes, you are dead. Nothing is here but pain."
To live. That was what the man wanted.
The man closed his eyes and took a breath. The scent of the room, of the woman, all of it meant nothing. Even his own pain slipped away into nothingness. And then he felt it, the urge to live. It was a cold stream against the searing pain, a raging torrent of fire against the chilly ice. All the pain that had accumulated in his system, all of it, urged this little thing to grow.
The more he focused on this point, the more he wanted to live, and the more he realized how dead he was. The contraption that had enslaved him was an inconvenience, an obstacle in the path of his wants. Slavery was death.
The man wanted to live.
He opened his eyes wide, the once blue iris was now a fiery red. His anger and hatred at being enslaved, at being betrayed and stolen from, rushed to every corner of his body. He felt power well up from within him, he felt a new pain enter his body. But it was one he controlled, one he used to fuel his power. It held no hold over him, it was powerless to stop him. As was the machine that held him.
There was a tearing that struck the room. The elf took a step back, a small smile creeping upon her face. The man bucked and rolled, the machine struggling to keep a hold on him. The man summoned strength, and soon the world came tumbling.
The tentacles burned away, the flesh caustic to them. The man dropped to the ground, smoke rising in curls from his emaciated body. Slowly his bones began to relocate themselves into their proper locations. The man did not flinch and did not scream. He only raised his head to glare hatred at the elf. Slowly he rose to his full height, his head held high.
The elf was ecstatic. Her hand trembled before her lips as she looked upon her student. The man looked back at her, both clad in nothing. They were free of everything. Alive.
The man sought for the feelings of lust and want that had filled him before. He found nothing. His anger was replaced by that nothing. His fiery glare turned to a cold stare. The woman sensed the change and took a step closer to him, unsure of what to do. The man raised a hand.
With a muffled cry the woman was lifted from the ground and levitated to stand right before the man. "What...what are you doing?" she asked. Her voice was both scared and elated. She had a look of lust in her eyes as she sensed his power.
The man looked at her body, finally resting upon her face once again. "I thought about taking you, whether you were willing or not."
"I would be willing," she whispered.
"Indeed you would. But that thought was fleeting. Now, I wish to be a teacher."
The woman's eyes went wide as she was suddenly flung into a wall. Bones crunched and snapped on impact. She screamed, a sound so loud and piercing. And yet, the man hardly noticed. He lifted his other hand, fingers splayed wide. Blue lightning arced from fingertip to fingertip. Walking up to the woman, he placed his hand on her inner thigh, "Shall I teach you what it means to be betrayed?" he asked.
She smiled. Lightning arced from her lower half to her brain. She screamed and laughed at the same time. Smoke curled from her body as her flesh was seared. "Teach me, for I wish to learn all that you know!" the woman cried.
The lightning stopped, the man dropped her. She crumpled onto the floor, barely conscious. The man looked down upon her, "I will teach you. In time. For now, I will play the part you set out. But soon I will forge another, and what you have created shall expand his teachings to the galaxy."
The woman bowed her head, "Yes, my lord. I shall serve as you teach. But what shall I call you?"
The man smiled, "I have no name. But such things are an inconvenience to those who cannot understand. I shall come to be called many things, but what you may now call me is Deshtalik."
"The Paradox," the woman said softly.
The man nodded, "I will teach and I will learn. Everything I say shall be a lie. This galaxy will find no truth within me. I am dead, and yet more alive than anything you have yet seen."
This is where it begins. Each post is essentially created on the spot with only a smattering of thought put in beforehand. I don't expect this to be great, or awesome, or anything. I don't even care if you read it. I just want this to be someplace where I may get some feedback every now and again. Just to inflate my ego and all that =P.
WARNING: I do not write kind. I do not write happy stories. I am graphic. I choose to show you a world of stark realism, or the darker side of the imagination. I choose to show you the horrors, and hope that you can find the good. This story will not be suitable for the young. Nor is it suitable for those who are happy, carefree people who love everything and hug trees on a regular basis and give out carebear stares like candy.
I am a Forsaken at heart after all.))
Pain.
Pain is a teacher. Some refuse to see it as such. They believe it to be a negative thing; a monster best left forgotten in the dark corners. But pain can be overcome. Nevermind the cliche that pain is only a state of mind. It is very real. But it can be used as a driving force, accept your pain and you can use it. Where once you were a student, you now become a teacher. It is an endless cycle. The student is always a teacher, and the teacher is always a student.
But how does one accept their pain? How does one use it to fuel their desires and emotions? How does one master pain and enslave it after once being a thrall to agony?
All these thoughts are contemplated by the single creature in the room.
For he is being taught. He is on his way to becoming a teacher.
Encased in writhing tentacles, he is unaware of his surroundings. Not that there is much to look at. The room is empty except for him and the contraption he is strapped to. Instruments dangle from it, raised just before the man's eyes. Though he is conscious, his thoughts perceive nothing other than the white hot agony. Every nerve fires in response to the intense stimulation. There is searing, there is freezing, there is grating, and there is scratching.
Time. What is time? An eternity, a second, it all means nothing to this man. Freedom? There is no such thing. There is only the machine and the man and their inescapable, unbreakable bond.
A door opens and footsteps echo. Hollow and heavy against the cold, white stone floor. "How are we doing today?" the voice coos, light and airy.
The man looks up, his eyes fluttering against the intense pain this simple act causes him. The figure looks back at him, a blurry mess with undecipherable features. Slowly the man begins to discern a slender, dark purple face. Red eyes glow from deeply seated sockets. A thin, pointed nose and thin cheeks. Long raven black hair and slender, pointed ears. She is beautiful by all standards. The man had found her attractive when he first met her, his lust visibly showing itself to her.
The elven woman had paid him no heed. She had become his teacher, and he quickly discovered how much he hated her. For a time, the man had had enough strength to want to annihilate the woman from where she stood. But the symbiote had not allowed that. Instead, she taught him lessons, and this dulled his strength until he was barely able to lift his head to glare at her.
Today, he only stared dumbly, awaiting the lessons that were sure to come. The elf looked upon him without pity or remorse. Her slender hand ran itself along his cheek and down his neck. She massaged his shoulder and leaned in a little closer. The man suddenly noticed that she smelled differently. His senses were set ablaze by the scent of delicate flowers and spring fields.
Her hand ran down his lean, malnourished chest and his abdomen. The man saw her once again as a beautiful creature. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. He wanted to reach out to her and touch her, caress her as she was caressing him. Had she finally shown kindness? Had she come to free him and love him?
As her hand came to his groin, she leaned in close to his ear. Her lips parted, bearing her gorgeous teeth and deft tongue. "You seek companionship..." she whispered, her voice intoxicating. The man felt pleasure as if it was new and exciting. "You seek....love?"
The man now noticed that the elf wore no clothing. She was as slender and lithe as no creature he had ever seen. He closed his eyes, tasting her scent, wishing for her sweet kiss. "All this...."
The man let out a single moan.
"Is not yours and never will be."
The man's moan swiftly turned into a scream. The tentacles wrapped around his body suddenly pulled in different directions. Where the woman's warm touch had been was now a forest of knives. He felt fire from his groin rise up to his shoulder and across his cheek. His ear blistered and boiled.
The elf stepped back, her gaze cold and evaluating. The man tried to twist, but a sickening pop that signaled the dislocation of his shoulders and legs caused him to stop. He could not scream, he could not move. He hung in the embrace, in the void. The only thing he saw was the woman that had promised so much, and then had taken all away.
She had taken everything. Nothing was his. His body was useless, an empty container. Death was a lie. There was only agony. He could feel his flesh being torn apart, his bones becoming exposed to the open air. The woman, naked as the day she was born, meant nothing to him. She was a betrayer, a liar, a thief, and a teacher.
The man understood.
Death was indeed a lie. Life was enslavement. There was nothing there for anyone or anything. "NO!" she shouted, her words piercing his thoughts.
"Life is everything."
The man looked at her, clearly confused. The elf stepped forward and stared at him straight in the eye. "Give in to life, give in to what created you. What is this thing you've come to live with? What is holding you back?"
The man searched for the answers to her questions. But the pain, it was too great. He felt his appendages being stretched to their limits, he felt his body burn. "What were you before this?" the woman asked.
The man thought. He had been nothing, a creature of basic emotions and searching for simple pleasure. Was not this woman just another one of his lustful endeavors that always ended in pain? Was not his being here a product of his own failure? He had been nothing. Worse than nothing. "That is right," the female said. "You are still nothing. But you can become something. Death is not a lie, for you are dead now. Would you call this life? Where is the joy, the sorrow?"
There was nothing. Was he truly dead?
"Yes, you are dead. Nothing is here but pain."
To live. That was what the man wanted.
The man closed his eyes and took a breath. The scent of the room, of the woman, all of it meant nothing. Even his own pain slipped away into nothingness. And then he felt it, the urge to live. It was a cold stream against the searing pain, a raging torrent of fire against the chilly ice. All the pain that had accumulated in his system, all of it, urged this little thing to grow.
The more he focused on this point, the more he wanted to live, and the more he realized how dead he was. The contraption that had enslaved him was an inconvenience, an obstacle in the path of his wants. Slavery was death.
The man wanted to live.
He opened his eyes wide, the once blue iris was now a fiery red. His anger and hatred at being enslaved, at being betrayed and stolen from, rushed to every corner of his body. He felt power well up from within him, he felt a new pain enter his body. But it was one he controlled, one he used to fuel his power. It held no hold over him, it was powerless to stop him. As was the machine that held him.
There was a tearing that struck the room. The elf took a step back, a small smile creeping upon her face. The man bucked and rolled, the machine struggling to keep a hold on him. The man summoned strength, and soon the world came tumbling.
The tentacles burned away, the flesh caustic to them. The man dropped to the ground, smoke rising in curls from his emaciated body. Slowly his bones began to relocate themselves into their proper locations. The man did not flinch and did not scream. He only raised his head to glare hatred at the elf. Slowly he rose to his full height, his head held high.
The elf was ecstatic. Her hand trembled before her lips as she looked upon her student. The man looked back at her, both clad in nothing. They were free of everything. Alive.
The man sought for the feelings of lust and want that had filled him before. He found nothing. His anger was replaced by that nothing. His fiery glare turned to a cold stare. The woman sensed the change and took a step closer to him, unsure of what to do. The man raised a hand.
With a muffled cry the woman was lifted from the ground and levitated to stand right before the man. "What...what are you doing?" she asked. Her voice was both scared and elated. She had a look of lust in her eyes as she sensed his power.
The man looked at her body, finally resting upon her face once again. "I thought about taking you, whether you were willing or not."
"I would be willing," she whispered.
"Indeed you would. But that thought was fleeting. Now, I wish to be a teacher."
The woman's eyes went wide as she was suddenly flung into a wall. Bones crunched and snapped on impact. She screamed, a sound so loud and piercing. And yet, the man hardly noticed. He lifted his other hand, fingers splayed wide. Blue lightning arced from fingertip to fingertip. Walking up to the woman, he placed his hand on her inner thigh, "Shall I teach you what it means to be betrayed?" he asked.
She smiled. Lightning arced from her lower half to her brain. She screamed and laughed at the same time. Smoke curled from her body as her flesh was seared. "Teach me, for I wish to learn all that you know!" the woman cried.
The lightning stopped, the man dropped her. She crumpled onto the floor, barely conscious. The man looked down upon her, "I will teach you. In time. For now, I will play the part you set out. But soon I will forge another, and what you have created shall expand his teachings to the galaxy."
The woman bowed her head, "Yes, my lord. I shall serve as you teach. But what shall I call you?"
The man smiled, "I have no name. But such things are an inconvenience to those who cannot understand. I shall come to be called many things, but what you may now call me is Deshtalik."
"The Paradox," the woman said softly.
The man nodded, "I will teach and I will learn. Everything I say shall be a lie. This galaxy will find no truth within me. I am dead, and yet more alive than anything you have yet seen."
An interesting read, to say the least. You have talent, keep it up.
