Short Stories/Poems

[Sekot]

Peace etches through. Heraldy singing blasphemy. Run swift, run quick, never turn back.

Over the hills, through the trees. Sing the silent soliloquy.

I am the masquerade. Set the stage, cast the lights. Hear the choir shout of a requiem for the flame.

Flicker, flit, fly, flash. Sit, stand, stay, stop.

Black stands before white. See the crackle, the snap. Clouds melt, sky falls. Daylight dies, nightfall cries. Sweep it away into the gray.

The path was chosen, the path was broken. We are set free.

Feel the flame, feel the air. The breeze is cool, a gentle touch.

Set the frame. Darken the flare. Call forth, call loud.

Over the mountains, through the seas. Travel to the land of desperate disease.

Shatter, clash, break, snap, tear, rend, rip.

Annihilate, obliterate. Pariah, outcast, abomination. Anger, hate, spite, and malice.

Be at peace. Let it all fall away. Benediction brought forth with power untold. Reclaim the lost soul, the lonely child. Harbor anew, let it grow. Become whole once more.

[Sekot]

With a flourish, the blade was produced. It was long and wicked and glittered amongst the flashing rainbow of lights and lasers. It twirled through the air and left a glowing path as it sliced the air in two. And then it stopped, hilt raised high into the air, blade pointed down. It caught the eyes of all in attendance, so captivated that all was forgotten.

The blade was thrust into the stage and flame erupted from the point of puncture. A wave exploded outwards, like a powerful gust of wind it ran through the crowd tossing many into the air. At once the lights flashed on, illuminating the dark warehouse and casting macabre shadows upon all upturned faces.

Like ragdolls, performers tumbled from the ceiling. Spinning, twirling, contorting they fell until they landed with a hard thud on the stage without rising. Out of side doors poured men and women wearing nothing but body paint, their faces like clowns with grins wider than humanly possible. They clapped their hands and the lights flashed, fire leaped, and the bass thumped and shook.

In the center of this spectacle stood the ringleader, the commander. Dressed in a mauve suit, he was nearly impossible to pick out against the black backdrop without the intermittent flash of lights. His thin hands rested on the hilt of the blade with which he had pierced the stage. His foot clad in expensive shoes tapped in time with the beat and the shouts, the cheers and the tears.

But his face, his face was shrouded. Hidden behind a death's head mask, the devilish grin glittered like stars as white lights embedded in the teeth went off one by one. "People of Darkness!" he cried, lifting his arms up with hands open and fingers splayed wide. "Denizens of Debauchery! Tonight! Tonight we partake once again in the cup of Sin! Drink your fill!"

Cheers erupted, fists pumped. Through the darkened eye holes, the announcer looked upon the crowd. What he saw aroused him, delighted him. He saw the hollow eyes of the heroin user, the shallow cheeks of the tweeked out partier. He witnessed the public fornication and the bleeding of self mutilators. He saw the smiles and the jeers. He saw the sorrow and lost looks. A smile appeared behind the mask.

"An army that cannot be stopped. An army that is enslaved to the scene. Dance, dance until you collapse. Power the dream of eternal misery."

The doors to the warehouse opened. The cool night air spilled into the throng but no one noticed. Outside the sky glowed orange. The air smelled of ash. "Let yourselves loose upon the city! Let free your inner selves and revel in the beat of the night! Take upon the mantle of chaos and deliver to the naive and innocent the gift of life!"

The crowd cheered once more and then ran out in one hurried mass. Alcohol was taken from the shelves and poured on the ground. Matches were tossed, alighting the flammable liquid. The inferno consumed the walls, consumed the minds. The chaos of the dance floor ran out into the order of the city. They danced to a tune they heard in their ears like a whisper in the wind.

[Sekot]

"It.....hurts..."

Young man knelt on the floor, arms clutching at his shoulders with muscles tightened. With brown eyes wide and trembling, he mumbles, "It hurts....it hurts...."

The cold swelled within his chest. His heart pounded against the penetrating freeze. Soon it fell quiet, soon his shaking ceased and he was frozen. His eyes looked on with a bewildered, crazed stare. His teeth were bared and jaw locked tight.

"Let me go," he cried within his mind. "Let me go, let me free."

"Nothing in this world is free."

The voice was as cold as the air that froze the man. It was strong and deep, that of a man's. It came from behind, so the man did not see who it was that had found him so helpless. He strained to look but to no avail.

"Do you truly wish to be free?" the voice said, now at his hear.

It was like a warming effect on the other. His body melted, and he was able to crane his head only to see that no one was there. Slowly he lowered his arms and steadied himself by placing his hands on the frigid ground. "Yes," he croaked, his voice hoarse.

Silence.

The boy placed a hand against his chest and felt the spot of emptiness, the freezing void. "Yes!" he shouted.

"I need to let go," he whispered.

The scenery changed and soon the man found himself in front of a small cottage. The grass flowed for miles in every direction, covering the rolling hills. The sky above was clear and blue with but a smattering of fluffy clouds.

The yellow door opened and in the threshold of the little house stood a figure the man did not recognize. But from it he felt warmth and comfort, a feeling he had forgotten. The breeze that brushed his cheek called out to him, spoke his name. "Nathaniel....."

The figure opened its arms in a welcoming gesture. Nathaniel took one step forward and suddenly the figure became visible. It was an elderly woman with grayed, sparse hair. Her flower print dress fluttered in the wind. She smiled, her perfect teeth shining from under ruby lips. "Come to me!" she called, her voice warm. "Come home!"

The man felt tears well up in his eyes, saw the image go fuzzy, but he ignored it. Despite the anger that boiled within him, he smiled. The last few steps into the woman's arms were the easiest steps he had ever taken. And they would be the last.

The scenery faded, the warmth and love disappeared, and the woman was replaced with a man. Nathaniel looked up, unable to see the face of the man staring back at him. The man who held him smiled down at the captive soul in his arms. "Free at last."

* * * *

A young man in tattered, dirty clothing rose from his huddled position in the corner of the abandoned building. His chin was pressed against his chest and he staggered as he stood at full height. Slowly his head raised and then went from side to side, a loud pop issuing from his neck. The thin lips parted to reveal yellowed teeth in a malicious grin. His brown eyes were wide but steady. "Free at last," he mouthed, the sound coming on the last word.

Outside the murky windows, fires raged. The night sky glowed orange and was filled with the shouts of people down in the streets. Nathaniel stepped up to the window and looked out. Below, on the streets, he witnessed several people running in every direction. Some carried weapons while others cowered in fear.

Slowly he lifted a hand and placed his palm upon the cold glass. Within himself, he felt the change that had just occurred. It was familiar, welcoming, embracing. It was warm. The cold had disappeared, the loneliness with it. He focused on the warmth, on the power. The glass shattered and fell to the ground below in millions of shards.

Without thinking, he stepped through the window and out into the air itself. He felt the hot air as it whipped him about. His smile never left as he tumbled end over end.

The explosion of his collision with the ground shattered the concrete in several feet in every direction. Smoke and dust rose in clouds about him, obscuring him from view. A woman screamed, those who held weapons stopped their brutal beatings to stare at the rising cloud.

The earth then shook. A shockwave rippled from the epicenter, scattering the clouds of dust and knocking everyone down. Another shockwave, a ripple in the air. Then another. Suddenly the crater erupted in flame and the fingers of the fire rose to the heavens.

Out of this inferno appeared Nathaniel, his clothes consumed by the fire but his flesh unharmed. He laughed and clapped his hands together once. The building he came from rumbled and then collapsed. Thunder sounded and all in attendance who survived the falling building were struck blind and deaf.

********

[Sekot]

Smoke, ash, and dust rose to the heavens, mixing with the cloud cover far above the streets below. The sound of falling concrete, steel, and brick died. There were shouts, screams of agony, there were cries of lost ones and words of anger. Lightning snapped above the wreckage, thunder cracked like a whip. Within the thunder, the deep tremble, a voice shouted. "Get up!"

Amongst the wreckage, amongst the clouds of obscuring debris, two eyes slowly fluttered open. The brown iris was gone, replaced by solid white. They glowed with a fiery intensity, casting the immediate area in a pale glow. Nathaniel craned his neck to look around himself, and only saw impenetrable walls of dust. Once more he dug into himself, felt the warmth that churned with hurricane force in his chest.

The dust fell away, pushed by some unseen pressure. The rubble above his head began to glow a deep red as it liquefied. "You are mine to do with as I wish, so get up."

The voice echoed in his skull, he winced at the pain. With arms spread wide, he shut his eyes tight and opened the gates he knew to be there. The wind began to churn and twist, four twisters fell like fingers over his concrete tomb and lifted away chunks of wreckage. The sky was revealed to him and he felt its warmth. He grinned, eyes now open and shining brightly. Fire issued from his feet, wrapping itself around his legs. It lifted him out of his hole and on a stair of flame he stepped onto the torn street.

Far above, another pair of eyes watched him. He was invisible to all, even the boy below. ""Does he know what he has gotten himself into?" Mikhail asked, his voice flat and emotionless as his expression.

A smoky body appeared to his right, but did not fully coalesce to a tangible form. Mikhail felt the smile though he did not see it. "Of course not. I promised, didn't I?"

"You're breaking the rules."

"What rules?"

The smoke faded leaving Mikhail alone on his perch. He watched as the boy walked aimlessly down the street. The poor child was past the point of no return. His soul was lost to the call. For the first time, Mikhail held doubt within his heart. There were many such individuals. Many who would fall sway to the enticing proposition his counterpart offered.

With a quick flash, Mikhail faded.

Nathaniel raised his head, confused for but a moment. But soon his attention was quickly diverted. The city burned. He wanted a piece of it.

[Lilam]

((I really, really like the last two posts! I want to read moar about Nathaniel! Even though, regrettably, there's not a whole lot, I've already fallen in love with the story. Thanks for my daily dose of Sekot awesomeness! =^_^=))

[Sekot]

His open palm glowed as tendrils of brilliant energy flowed between the splayed fingers. He felt the warmth like a gentle caress across his hand. Shadows were tossed about the room and across his body as the lights made their rounds. Twisting, turning, captivating every last bit of his attention.

His eyes had lost their white shine and were now back to their simple brown. There was a certain sadness to his stare, his mind lost in thought. His chest did not rise nor did it fall. He found that he did not need the air to breathe. What was this, what had changed him? "What have I done?" he whispered.

"You've taken the only option left open to you. You made a wish, and that wish was granted."

Nathaniel looked up from the spinning lights and into the eyes of a dark haired man who stood with arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were impenetrable, hidden under a mysterious shroud that Nathaniel could not penetrate. "Who are you?" Nathaniel asked quietly.

"My name is Andrew," the other answered, a half smile appearing for a brief moment. "I am your savior."

Nathaniel looked down at the lights once more. "I don't need a savior."

"I beg to differ. I heard your call, I felt your pain. And now I have given you the opportunity to act on the bottled hatred and anger in your soul."

Nathaniel made a fist, crushing the lights in his palm. The dusty room was plunged into darkness. Though Nathaniel could not see Andrew, he knew the other do be there. "So this power I have, you gave it to me?"

"It is yours to use."

Nathaniel pushed himself up and out of the corner he had been sitting in. "This is a trick."

Andrew did not answer. Nathaniel knew that he hadn't left. "I am no longer myself."

"No you are not."

The answer was matter of fact. Nathaniel felt his heart drop but he had expected nothing less. "Any rules?"

"You will find them as you go along. For now, no."

Nathaniel nodded and then walked out of the room and into what had used to be the hallway. What it was now was open to the air and street, half the apartment complex sheered away. The sun was just beginning to crawl over the horizon, the clouds of ash and smoke still clung low however. They threatened to cast the light away and hide the city in darkness for eternity.

"Find yourself some clothes, and then make your way to the abandoned warehouse near the wharf. Others, like you, will be there."

Nathaniel nodded, but the presence had already drifted away. With a heavy sigh, he picked his way over the rubble and disappeared into the alleys.

[Sekot]

All this pointless rage. Let it consume me.

Let it eat me.

Watch as it destroys me. As it burns through me. Just stand there. Watch.

You won't be disappointed.

I clench my fists, gnash my teeth, and harden my heart.

Eat my heart, eat my brain. I have no use for either.

Left to rot by God, left to rot by so many others. Blasphemous self pity.

What scars were left? What am I now? Who am I?

Who am I?

Anxiety claws at me. I've been left. Abandoned. Alone.

I have no faith in humanity. No faith in friendship.

Every friend I've had has turned on me. Open the doors, let it all crash down.

I take comfort in my lack of sanity. I take comfort in my anger. I take comfort in this mental agony.

Because I am trapped. My mind is tearing itself in two. Three. Four.

Where can I lose myself except in the music, in the dance? What can so strongly take hold of my mind and wrestle it back to whole?

Move your body. Move your soul. Your body is out control. Your body is on the floor.

What do I want?

I want to be whole.

I am the Undead, the mindlessly warped. I am gone, no longer here.

I died years ago. What's left is the empty shell. Dance, dance to the tune of my irrational anger.

Consume it all through flame. Set the world ablaze. The Nightmare take me.

Such a sad, pathetic little thing. With the help of others, your grave has been dug.

Now lie in it.

[Sekot]

Kneeling upon the floor, hands placed on his knees, a man meditated with eyes shut. Darkness permeated the room except for a red orb that glowed with a powerful aura and floated in mid air before the man. From it came whispers, promises of power. The man heard these and took delight in them, took warmth from them.

He heard their footsteps, the heavy marching beats. He heard the metal against metal of armor grating against armor. He smelled their apprehension, their fear. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, his eyelids fluttered but did not open.

The door to his room snapped open and harsh light spilled in, separating the darkness from the man. Men and women dressed in missmatched clothing marched in, weapons held ready. They hesitated at the sight of the kneeling man who made no sign of acknowledgment towards them.

The last intruder marched into the room, the rest spreading around the outskirts of the room, keeping their distance from their target. Tension was thick, their breaths were ragged and quick. He could hear their pulses beating, hear their blood rushing. This time, he smiled.

The door snapped shut, bringing darkness back to the man and soliciting shouts from the others. The orb fell silent and dropped to the floor with a harsh sound. Complete and utter darkness. The man was at home.

He rose from his position on the floor, his cloak spilling about him and shrouding him further in the darkness. If those intruders looked close, they would be able to spot a darkness darker than the void. A denser dark that spoke of evil. The man opened his eyes, only to be met with the same opacity the others were in. "Surrender now!" a voice shouted from the darkness.

"No," was the man's response.

The air began to crackle and snap. The intruders tensed and lowered their weapons, unsteady and unwilling to fire blindly unless they had to. Suddenly, lights came on, harsh white lights that bathed the room in a pallid glow. The mercenaries watched their target now standing, hood covering his features but without any sign of fear or willingness to fight.

It was quick, effortless, and surprising. The man waved two fingers. A woman crumpled to the floor, head turned completely around on her thin neck. They shouted, alarmed. They fired their weapons, red bolts made to intercept the sole figure in the center of the room.

Snap-hiss

The blade was a silver blur as it hummed about the man, intercepting each and every bolt of energy that was targeted at him. The beams ricocheted without making any contact on any other. Everyone took pause, their breaths held. Their eyes never left the man in the center of the room with the mercury blade of pure energy.

It was a blur, the blink of an eye. The man was gone. The lights went out. The blade was extinguished. Red lights, snapping, screams, crackling, death. One by one they plummeted to the metal floor, clanging loudly against the surface. The lights returned. One man stood facing the cloaked monster who held his weapon limply at his side.

The mercenary fired his gun, the lightsaber deflected it back into the rifle. The mercenary shouted in fear and dropped the smoking junk. He backed into the wall, eyes wide with fear.

The cloaked figure stepped forward, ever closer to his paralyzed prey. The cowering man looked under the cloak and saw a pale, haggard face that held no mirth. The cheeks were sunken, the eyes were deeply set and ringed with dark circles. But the eyes, the eyes were smoldering orbs of hatred. The mercenary shuddered from feet to head as he stared into the steel blue eyes.

The cloaked man cocked his head to the side and then stabbed his prey through the heart. Blade extinguished, the man took a step back and watched the last intruder fall dead. He looked at the hilt of his lightsaber and furrowed his brow. More, he wanted more. Not enough, never enough.

He turned, his cloak billowing about him. He stepped out of the room and into the world beyond.

[Sekot]

Like a dark cloud he descended. His outline shimmered, bled in a smoke like aura. The shadows themselves surrounded him, clothed him. From his back appeared four wing like constructs. Long and wide, they too curled with smoke. Unfurled from tip to tip they presented a mighty monster come to terrify and ravage.

His eyes glowed gold.

Armored feet touched upon the cold soil, the dark dirt. The smoke fell from him like water, pooling about his feet and curling outward. He raised his head, staring at the wide eyes of the witnesses present. They looked upon his pale flesh that barely covered pale bone.

They gazed upon his full battle armor that swallowed the light about him, distorted his presence. In the moonlight he was but a wraith come from the deepest depths of Hell.

"You who stand before my might..." he wheezed, voice scratchy and airy as it escaped a parched throat. "The word has come. We who come before the storm, we bring the word of Death."

It was smooth, effortless, fast. One moment his hands were empty, and the next two gleaming long swords were held in glistening, bony fingers. Those who witnessed him fled in terror, one word on their lips. "Harbinger" they whispered.

The armored figure flashed, shimmered in space and then disappeared. One woman who had fled first suddenly found herself face to face with rotting flesh. She stopped dead, her mouth agape. She screamed, an ear splitting shriek quickly silenced when one of the man's long blades found its way into her skull.

Fire erupted from the nearby buildings. The blade was removed and the woman crumpled onto the ground. The undead man watched her and then diverted his attention. Shouts and cries were erupting from the many homes and inns and taverns. Alarms were ringing.

He stood in the center of the street, shadows playing randomly across his face. He smiled. "Run, flee all ye who stood before the might of the Forsaken Army! Run before those who bring ill tidings. We are the Harbingers! The forerunners of the Forgotten Shadow! Flee, but take solace in the fact that soon, you shall all be one of us."

"We are endless. We are eternity. We are the Nightmares. Hear what we speak and know that doom lays before you."

The words were chanted, whispered and spoken in one great teeming voice. Power rippled through each syllable, creating a wave that shocked all into submission, halted their steps and forced them to shake in fear. The village burned and out of the shadows these fires created stepped more figures clad in armor black as the void.

They descended, a cloud of insects, a swarm of locusts. They devoured the village, devoured the souls. They burned and ravaged until all were left dead. And then, it was done.

He watched the village burned, watched as the Harbingers picked through the rubble and gathered every last corpse. They dragged them before the first and dropped them unceremoniously onto the ground. From behind the undead man stood an army of val'kyr. They went to work, chanting and waving their fingers in intricate designs.

Then took pause, stepped away, and watched.

The corpses rose from the ground, wounds gaping wide. They looked out through hollow eyes, empty as their graves. "We bow down before Sekot, High Warlord of the Forsaken, Captain of the Harbingers. We bow before She who he represents. Sylvanas Windrunner, Dark Lady of the Mighty Forsaken, we pledge our allegiance to thee.

"What is your bidding?"

[Sekot]

What he witnessed was The Other.

Other world. Other person. Other soul.

Eyes that burned. Cheshire smile.

"I shall crack your bones, rend your flesh, and devour your heart."

The Other spoke and the air trembled, the earth shook. He was weighed down by the words as if carrying a heavy load upon his back.

The Other stepped down one step and the sound rung out through the great hall of the Church. Fire leaped from the sole of its black heel. This man knew this Other, knew what it was before.

"What has come to be, forever more beholden unto me."

Another step. And another. The marble cracked underneath its feet, melted. The Other raised its arms and between them opened the void. The endless abyss, its heart.

Empty. Cold.

He took a step forward, entranced. "Save me," he whispered.

Butterfly wings unfolded from the back of The Other. And on these wings fire bloomed and swirled. The Church collapsed, fell away. Visible was the land of The Other. Visible was the landscape of tortured earth and open graves.

The man broke his gaze with the void and stared skyward. The clouds broiled and churned a heavy ashy darkness. The sky rained bodies. Corpses that fluttered and collapsed like dolls into those graves meant for them.

The wind picked up, churned, and like fingers twisters reached from the clouds. The Other laughed, his voice flute like, shrill. Deafening.

The man clapped his ears to his head, but he felt it in his chest. It pounded through his head like a shockwave.

And then it was gone. The man was back on the street between abandoned buildings. No light shone, no person walked the streets. All was silent except for the young man who stood before him with a Cheshire smile and eyes that glowed in the darkness.

The man fell to his knees and prayed.

The young man bent forward and lifted up the other's head. He stared deeply into the eyes of the weaker man and breathed in deep. The young man turned away from the lifeless doll and disappeared into the night.

[Lilam]

((The things you do with adjectives shouldn't be legal. Your writing is like Juicy Fruit: It's a contradiction! It's fiery and passionate yet it always gives me chills. ))

[Sekot]

I am ruthless, endless, unbridled ambition.

I seek it all, everything. I want it all. I hunger, I need. Give it to me, let me have it.

My eyes are filled with greed. My teeth are bared in a grin from ear to ear. I will have you.

Nightmare demon. Tortured abomination. I bleed anger and hatred. I was abandoned. And now I want it back. I will destroy everything to get what I want.

I will leave a wake of annihilation. I will open oblivion.

Stop me. Stop this rampage.

Impossible. Unendable. Eternal.

His hands gripped the rails, the metal bending underneath the grasp. Before him stretched miles of city, lights gleaming under the starless sky. The moon hung low, burning red. The wind tore at him, whipped his hair into a fury.

He grinned, his eyes glittered with the reflection of the lights. He sought it, he wanted it. Their minds, their emotions. All should belong to him. They pushed him out, left him to rot on the streets. The fire in his chest had finally consumed him whole. He was lost to his own insanity.

The city burned.

It too was consumed by the endless flames. Red, gold, black.

I want revenge. Pure hatred towards that which pushed me out. Consumed by my own self. Lost and aimless.

The true me, the true self, is ambition. Hate.

The true me knows love. It loved too much. It died.

Take me away. Let me free. There is nothing more for me here. I am alone, outside. I belong nowhere. I belong with noone. Therefore I shall give myself up to oblivion.

Bound and tied, nowhere to go. I want but I will never have.

[Lilam]

((That was just like a bullet train of emotions! Very strong, emotive words, which always work very well with your style of writing. The switch from first person to third person and back to first was a little abrupt, but I can't really complain because I liked this little tidbit regardless. Keep up the good work! ^_^

Edit: Oh! And I really liked the ending. It really brought the whole piece together nicely. ))

[Sekot]

((Aww Lilam thank you! I always love your critiques. =) ))

[Sekot]

I was told lies. I was told untruths.

I walk these halls a shambling mess. My jaw hangs loose, my eyes are glazed.

So they struck once more. Struck deep and hard at my chest, at my head.

Groans whisper past cracked and torn lips. A gaping hole in my breast, in my skull.

Taken. Taken from me. All of it. Everything.

I am Unlife.


I sit here, in this chair. One glass in my hand filled with the essence of pure emotion. Do I take it? Do I devour it all? Give me life. I lift it to my lips, take a sip and feel it slide down my throat. Cool, calm. Ice.

Look at me smile the smile of a madman. What holds here but hope lost? Give in, give out. Release. I am...Other.

Other I stand and acknowledge. I am that which defies you, defines you. I am outside, and in so doing I create your existence. You fear me in your creation of me. I do not fear you. I accept you. I embrace you. I am you.

I reject you.

Hear this groan? This nightmare rasp? I call my brethren, I call the horde. The undead horde. That which is so reviled because we mimic you but remain as enemy. We will devour you, consume you. I will indulge in your flesh, in your intestinal tract. Hunger, I hunger.

Once we finish, we will turn away, our work done. You have but two choices.

And two choices only.

Join us.

Or die.