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Post by Kaez on Nov 6, 2010 0:03:24 GMT -5
(( "The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead. And the dead keep it."
That's what I kept thinking of throughout -- the undead mountain king. Traditionally Sekotish; not as psychological or philosophical as I might have expected, but the bluntness is almost necessary. ))
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Post by athelstan on Nov 6, 2010 20:47:00 GMT -5
Overall from your work I get an impression that is the same world wearing many faces. Like a dream of terror and decay, reeling through its masks. It's horrific to me (and I mean this positively, as being "of the horror genre") not so much from the specific details, but from the overall, overpowering sense of wrongness that permeates it. What it really reminds me of is how some people have hypnogogia. As they fall asleep, they remain cognizant as their minds transition to the dream state. And sometimes during hypnogogic transition, people feel the appearance of "presence" around them. In this case, your work seems to have strong connotations of that presence, which is extremely negative. It's... a doppelganger. It is the cracked mirror, grinning madly through a rime of dust. It is given a face and a goal as the undead, but really its horror lies not so much in those details, but in how it reflects us as we least desire to think of ourselves.
Was that cogent? I'm not sure if it was.
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Post by Sekot on Nov 6, 2010 20:58:19 GMT -5
In a mad state. In a frenzied state. Devourer. Consumer. Enveloper.
There is nothing here. Nothing but the angry emptiness. Confront this. Face this.
Fight this. Try it. TRY IT I FUCKING DARE YOU.
You thought you could stand here. You thought you could face me.
YOU FUCKING FOOL. You incapable moronic twat.
I will tear you limb from limb.
I will consume your flesh and rip out your heart. This a promise, a declaration for the ages. Flee to your gods. Flee to whatever you pray to. I am everything. I am everywhere. I will overtake you.
Run.
I will only beat you.
Plead.
I will only smash you.
Beg.
I will only eviscerate you.
Such pure unadulterated rage. Such avaricious malice.
Hear the world shake. Feel the air breathe my flames. I am the Harbinger. I am the forebearer, the vanguard of your eternal suffering. You are incapable, unable, of facing me.
You stood before me. You had the gall to attack me. You had the balls to thwart me. I am you, you fucking goddamn cocksucking son of a motherfucking whore. I am everything about you.
This the treatise of your soul that enslaved you before and will enslave you again. You are chained to me, brutalized by me. I will drag you down, down down down to the depths of the lowest hell.
Believe, for one moment, that you were free. Indulge in the sweet scent of love and kindness.
Watch your world in the palm of my hand. Watch it spin and dance and move and bend and twist. Observe as you sought an exit, an end to this torment.
Do you hear that?
Its me.
I'm laughing at you.
I'm mocking you.
You will never ever escape me.
I am eternal. I am neverending. I am Harbinger. I am Forever. You tried. Oh how you tried.
Welcome back.
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Post by Sekot on Nov 6, 2010 20:59:03 GMT -5
Overall from your work I get an impression that is the same world wearing many faces. Like a dream of terror and decay, reeling through its masks. It's horrific to me (and I mean this positively, as being "of the horror genre") not so much from the specific details, but from the overall, overpowering sense of wrongness that permeates it. What it really reminds me of is how some people have hypnogogia. As they fall asleep, they remain cognizant as their minds transition to the dream state. And sometimes during hypnogogic transition, people feel the appearance of "presence" around them. In this case, your work seems to have strong connotations of that presence, which is extremely negative. It's... a doppelganger. It is the cracked mirror, grinning madly through a rime of dust. It is given a face and a goal as the undead, but really its horror lies not so much in those details, but in how it reflects us as we least desire to think of ourselves. Was that cogent? I'm not sure if it was. ((I'm surprised to see reviews here. o.0 Yes, it was cogent and very much appreciated. Thank you. =) )) |
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Post by athelstan on Nov 6, 2010 21:03:23 GMT -5
Overall from your work I get an impression that is the same world wearing many faces. Like a dream of terror and decay, reeling through its masks. It's horrific to me (and I mean this positively, as being "of the horror genre") not so much from the specific details, but from the overall, overpowering sense of wrongness that permeates it. What it really reminds me of is how some people have hypnogogia. As they fall asleep, they remain cognizant as their minds transition to the dream state. And sometimes during hypnogogic transition, people feel the appearance of "presence" around them. In this case, your work seems to have strong connotations of that presence, which is extremely negative. It's... a doppelganger. It is the cracked mirror, grinning madly through a rime of dust. It is given a face and a goal as the undead, but really its horror lies not so much in those details, but in how it reflects us as we least desire to think of ourselves. Was that cogent? I'm not sure if it was. ((I'm surprised to see reviews here. o.0 Yes, it was cogent and very much appreciated. Thank you. =) )) ((You're quite welcome, comrade. :] )) |
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Post by Sekot on Nov 9, 2010 22:03:55 GMT -5
He felt it breathe.
He felt it breathe and he knew fear.
Quiet. Still.
Crash down.
Out of the wall burst thrashing arms. Through fist sized holes they twisted and moved, spasmed and flailed. Then came the rest of the body. Through what manner he did not know, but it came. Dust rose in a cloud, spreading out slowly across the floor.
It stood, hunched over. Its shoulders rose and fell with every gasping breath. The head that sat upon a long, slender neck looked up. The four eyes stared deeply into his own and he looked back.
He looked back and knew sheer terror.
The beast, the creation of unholy power rose to its full height. It towered above him, stood nearly to the ceiling. The four eyes were like bottomless pits, empty of everything. A vacuum. They sucked him in, took in his soul. He was in a trance.
It took a step forward. Then another. One slender arm was raised, one thin hand extended its fingers. Slowly they wrapped themselves around his neck. He felt their cold flesh, the iron grip that clamped around his neck. His chest began to tighten. Air was becoming scarce.
There was a loud pop that broke the silence within the small room. It released its grip and the body slumped to the floor like a doll. The beast looked upon the corpse through the four eyes and its lower face split to reveal a mouth that almost completely wrapped around its head.
It bent down and lifted the corpse closer, closer. And then it fed. Greedily. Blood and gore flew in all directions as the ravenous monster consumed the still warm body.
It was a sweet taste.
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Post by Sekot on Nov 12, 2010 20:55:52 GMT -5
Again and again all i see is endless pain there is nothing left but endless hate endless eternal forever more.
so i will end it. it is my duty that which i was born for. tear it down break it shatter it reveal the nightmare
reveal the dream reveal that which lies at the heart
and then murder it tear it out and destroy it.
for years i stood at the wall i stood watching the horde i was supposed to fight. i was meant to protect and i lost it. they came fast quick over the wall over myself over us all until naught but ruin remained. ruin fire bleeding life like whispering wind of endless bloody dreams.
tear it down shape it anew shape a world anew. again and again and again until my face is bloody against the bricks. bloody blood red as fiery flames that tear apart life. tear torn rip snap break. separate and engulf in torrential rains that swallow the world whole. swallow
me
whole.
tumbling falling never ending the abyss grabs me swallows me takes me. grabs me envelopes me cold. stony icy claws that grip my heart and tear it to pieces pieces that i try so hard to reassemble. try so hard to keep in my hands. try and try and try but treading water that suffocates.
sanity lost to never be regained. this is the mind of a lonely demon. no one nothing no one ever ever never ever. spinning turning twisting falling falling falling.
i fall
and
i fear
fear that I will never get up. Never return. I look down on the mask in my hand and recognize its face. I recognize and I return. I return to my throne in an empty hall.
I take my seat and lean against the high back. There is little light, the shades drawn across the massive windows. Dust layers the floor, the walls, even my own seat. I run my fingers across the icy granite.
I close my eyes. and disappear
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Post by Kaez on Nov 12, 2010 21:04:48 GMT -5
this is the mind of a lonely demon. I can't really explain why, but I -really- like this line. |
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Post by Sekot on Nov 24, 2010 16:40:28 GMT -5
I have come
to recognize that
I am at war.
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Post by Sekot on Nov 27, 2010 21:43:57 GMT -5
What I have come to know is despair. The darkest, deepest depths of the human soul. I have witnessed the end of eternity and here I have transcribed my own personal hell, that existence which defines me. What I have intended here is to create the reality that is mine. What was here detailed is the end to existence.
He stood upon the threshold, black suit impeccable. Behind him was darkness. Before him was emptiness. Taking in a deep breath, he pulled on the hem of his jacket and took one solitary step over the invisible barrier.
And he entered the void.
What he saw was a vast expanse. It was a field that stretched for miles in every direction, mountains hemming them in. On the opposite end were hills and soldiers covered them. It was a black, twisting mass of bodies all combined into one great body. They held a banner unfamiliar, but he knew deep within his heart just what they stood for. Blood dripped from their weapons, their stares were blank but their smiles were toothy and malicious. They hungered for pain, for misery.
Hearing a sound behind him, he turned and looked upon a different mass. They stretched for miles upon miles, faces turned forward. They were thin, weak, and nearly lifeless. Many had glazed eyes and sunken cheeks. Their weapons were dull, their armor without gleam.
A deep sorrow captured his heart, grabbed him and shook him hard. They turned their gaze upon him, and he knew hopelessness. He stared back into their sorrowful eyes and knew despair.
This was their last stand.
Turning swiftly on his heel, he witnessed the sudden appearance of an obsidian throne. Before he knew it, his legs were moving and he advanced upon the seat of power. Slowly he sat himself into it and he felt its power flow into his body. His fingertips tightened on the edge of the rests, his knuckles whitening.
There was a deepening in his chest, the bottom fell out and suddenly all was made clear. His mind knew clarity and before him was laid out all of the history of this tragic people and the future.
This was their last stand.
But they all knew it.
And they were here anyway.
He looked to his side and saw a glass of red wine sitting upon a tray. Gingerly he reached over to it and grabbed it. The liquid was radiant in the meager light that peeked through the black clouds that had gathered.
He raised the glass to them and bowed his head in a silent prayer. Without any more hesitation he took his glass to his lips and downed the liquid in a matter of seconds. He threw it to the side, the glass shattering on the ground.
Swiftly he pushed himself out the chair and onto his feet. The earth trembled and fire leaped from his spine to form great wings. His eyes glowed a soft orange, his soul alight with the plight of those before him.
He heard their cheers.
They were full of sorrow.
Slowly he turned to face the field, and he felt terror. Not his terror, but that of the enemy.
The ground shook, a great clamor speared the air. Lightning snapped and the sky was alight. Rain began to fall in great sheets but that hardly deterred this ragtag army from descending upon the field of battle.
BOOM BOOM BOOM
Artillery.
Great plumes of earth rose to grasp the sky. Bodies flew in every direction.
He watched as his army fell to their inevitable doom.
Fire wrapped around him, burning through his flesh until he had become a storm. The wind swirled about him, fed him. He hungered, deeply and darkly. More than those he faced, he knew hatred and anger. Every last person who had had any emotion fed it to him and he was consumed utterly.
A hole opened in the world, rocks and shrapnel flying into the air. The pressure was so great that many fell with bleeding ears on the spot. He clenched his fingers, gnashed his teeth, and lost himself.
The explosion was great, it reached out silently. Siphoning everything, a great vacuum was created.
And with a snap it all ended.
No breath was left, no air entered. It was quiet. Empty. A hole had formed, a capsule over the field where none would travel.
Driven to this, none had a choice. This battle left nothing, noone.
But necessary, these soldiers found themselves ready to give their lives. One mass one body one mind.
I know war
of the mind.
I have no choice
but to fight to
a bitter end.
An end that
will decide the fate
of the future.
I who has known hatred
at its purest
shall bring it bear.
And the world will tremble.
A call has been made.
A call to arms.
Those who hear
shall take up
and bear their weapons
against the horde that
challenges our existence.
We will cast blood
into the streets
and all the children
will know our cry.
They will know of us
where their parents
kept us hidden.
Nothing shall keep
the call
in silence.
I bring an end
to eternity.
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Post by Sekot on Dec 1, 2010 22:22:36 GMT -5
He rose out of the ash, a wicked madman's smile painted across his face. His grey eyes were alight with a gleaming fire. The fire that leaped about him was hot and passionate. His presence was great and foreboding, and I was but lost to its grace.
I found myself before him, head bowed. I could not look up at the nightmare beast before me. I could not stare into those large, wrathful eyes. The clammy warmth of his breath passed over my neck like a soft touch.
I could feel his being enter me, through me, past me. I was gone, empty and lifeless. Floating in the void I could only feel him as an anchor to reality. Such images floated past my mind's eye that I knew I was no longer amongst the sane. No rational individual could see what I had seen. I saw the ends of the earth, the ends of eternity. I saw the beginning of death and the end of birth.
I was a monster, shaped by this new being, no longer human. What I had seen was never forgotten, would never forget, can never forget. Challenge me, they would will forever cry. He who came from the ash whose pale flesh burned like a star brought me life.
Life that was never brought had have will ever know. I know reality. I know rationality. I know it to be false, I know existence to be perception. I am the beast that arose from the ash of the yesterday. I am that which came from past and will disappear in future.
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Post by Sekot on Dec 11, 2010 15:19:29 GMT -5
The old man sat quiet and still against the dark brick wall of the alley. Little light poured in from the surrounding streets, only a meager bit laid against his ragged, pale face. Weathered and broken, he sat sullenly, eyes staring into empty space.
The night sky was shrouded in darkness, no stars or moon shown upon the scarred earth. The city itself was quiet, abandoned and reeling from years of constant warfare. Sirens screamed as they passed his little alley, his little home. More likely to cause crime than to stop it. The old man listened, waited, and the sirens faded. He lowered his head, his chest rising and falling with a deep sigh.
A crow perched upon the building far above him called out. The man slowly turned his head upward to look upon the bird. The shadows that played across it made it appear large and terrifying. The man watched as it fluttered its wings and he imagined a demon, a devil born with black feathers and a hot, meaty breath. The bird took flight, spinning upwards into the sky to search for human prey.
A flash illuminated the world's ceiling. Thunder clapped in the distance, a low rumble that rolled through the earth like a marching army. The old man sighed once more and bowed his head, his lips moving in silent prayer. The first drop smashed itself against the pavement right before his crossed legs. Another flash lit the sky, he winced against the sudden intrusion. For a brief moment, out of the corner of his eye, he had seen a person standing next to him.
His heart began to beat. Faster. Faster. Thunder exploded once more, this time much closer. The wind picked up, roaring through the alley like a pack of wolves. It bit at his exposed flesh and tore at his ragged clothes. Rain began to fall in greater amounts until it fell like a sheet. Again flash, and again the person appeared for that solitary moment.
Slowly the old man rose from his spot, unfolding with joints creaking. Cowed, he shambled out of the alley and onto the sidewalk before the street. Now he felt it, that heavy presence, the shadow that followed him. He dared not turn around, for he knew what was there. It was not a figment of his imagination, it had come for him once more.
He felt cold, though whether that was from the rain or the thing that tormented him he did not know. Air became thin, even as the wind still blew around him. Lifting his chin, he closed his eyes and spoke another silent prayer.
Lowering his head, he opened his eyes and stared into the abyss. That which stared back at him was haunting in its intensity. It sucked the air from him, the warmth. He felt his bones creak in pain, his muscles tighten. Then it was gone. Nothing. Emptiness.
The old man stood gasping for air, clutching his chest with a skeletal hand. He grimaced and bared his teeth. He heard footsteps, voices, but did not move back into his alley. It would be no use. They knew him, knew where he was. He could disappear into oblivion and still they would find him.
They came like wraiths out of the mist. They too were drenched from head to foot by the torrential rains. They were young, in their teens possibly. Four of them, two on each side. The streetlamp shuddered and died, casting the immediate area in even deeper darkness.
He could hear their voices as they spoke to one another. He could not make out their features, their eyes were shrouded under heavy brows. But their teeth shown through, wide smiles of beastly nature. They spoke no words he could understand, a tongue unknowable. Lightning flashed and he knew them to not be human.
Wings of black feathers. Strong, unearthly, meaty breath. A stench of rot. Voices that scratched and cawed.
The old man bowed his head and said a prayer.
And they attacked.
With weapons of steel hot as stars they converged upon him, but he was no longer present. Evaporated into the nothingness only to reappear in the street. They four stopped and stared, grinning like madmen. They laughed a hyena's cackle and converged upon him once more.
And once again he evaded them. It was a dance, a twisting movement of arms and legs and presences. Three more times this happened, the four becoming progressively more irritated until the air was hot with their anger. The old man patiently waited, once again in the street.
And they revealed their true forms. With a crack like the thunder from above they disappeared. Clouds of smoke and ash replaced them, twisting as if a fire was underneath them.
The old man obliged, releasing his tangible form for one more ethereal. Such power existed within such small places that realities merged and diverged. Universes collapsed and coalesced in the blink of an eye. The earth opened like a gaping maw, swallowing the sky above it until space was revealed.
Those five came together in one cacophonous tumult.
And then it was over. The old man still stood as if nothing had happened. The rain continued to fall, but it fell on nothing. There did not exist a street or structure. It had collapsed into nothing. All that was there was the old man and a bloodstain.
Once again lightning flashed and the old man was met with that heavy presence. He felt its gaze but he did not meet it. He could sense the displeasure, but could only laugh. A croaky, airy laugh.
He had cheated death once more. It would come again, as it had many times before. He was not alone in this, for the world was torn asunder between a war with death and those who evaded him. Life had no meaning any longer. Such was the price they paid to exist just a moment more. It had become a game, a game that had torn the world asunder. To exist was to wage this war.
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Post by Sekot on Dec 11, 2010 22:46:45 GMT -5
For he so loved the world
that tore him apart.
He would hide
forever more
behind the mask.
Forever loved
Now ever hate.
Tear it apart
so that no others
shall know this.
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Post by Sekot on Dec 12, 2010 20:35:23 GMT -5
So we dance, we dance and dance to this new tune. To look upon this new world, this place of all those things lost and forgotten and denied. Forsaken: to be left behind, forgotten. This tired misery drains the soul of warmth and thought. This soul has imprisoned me, caged me.
What sweet dreams embrace this lie, this ghoul that was conjured by reality? Sought for the end, the last road to nowhere, and found naught but blood. Taken, swept up by the storm we pirouette through the air like dolls. Strings attached to my body keep me bound to the will.
Before is the wall of masks, all shapes sizes colors textures. It is a lie to take part in, an act of betrayal and friendship. One mask changes the tune, calls out to the musicians of the depraved.
Taken, denied, stole. Sapped of will and breath.
This. Is. A. Lie. A LIE. A falsehood, a laugh. I exist in a world of insanity. I do not own this body, I am owned by the world. Destroy is the mantra, break it and leave it, such is the calling. Again, insanity. There is nothing to build, nothing left. in. sanity.
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Post by Sekot on Dec 13, 2010 19:47:16 GMT -5
I felt it
as it passed
between my fingers.
Through them
Around them
Against them
Surrounded.
What was it
What is it
this feeling?
I want to grasp it
hold it
tear it apart.
I want to keep it
safe.
Warm, tender
but
intangible.
It speaks of kindness
where there is none.
It speaks of humanity
to the dead.
This feeling
I know it
from before.
So long ago.
A smile foreign
at memory's return
of childhood
life.
Life that fleeting
monster that chains
binds me.
Mortality that restrains
from this touch
this feeling in my hand.
What what what
what is this?
I was told...
I had heard...
Emptiness.
Hollow.
That which is between
my fingers
is dirt.
Cold frigid earth.
Hard smothering
unwelcoming.
Where is my heart
that should beat
faster and faster?
I cannot breathe
there is no air
nothingness
I cannot see.
Where am I?
Why was I put here?
Laughter of a child
Fleeting above me
muffled and distant.
I hear it
I feel it all around me.
But still I see nothing.
I must flee move twitch
spasm as I want.
I want need.
Need. Such familiarity
breeds...
what?
What is this?
No let me out
let me free.
let me out of here.
I can feel it
against me.
My mind is lost
frantic
can't
comprehend
must
dig.
Is that what this is?
Cold lifeless
dirt.
Such greed
Such wrath
within me boils
tries to set me free.
Free me
from my bonds.
Light out of
nothing. Darkness
gone replaced with
pain.
I can smell such
power such sweet
scents.
Cannot
will not
ever
stop.
Rise from
that which held me.
Rise from the
grave.
Have you ever awakened from nothing? Knew what it was like to know emptiness? Such pressure, such feeling. And now free. Free to roam to walk to be. From the grave I rose, from nothing I came.
I remember
the lies
that held me.
I remember the hands
that buried me.
They say not
to fear
the Reaper.
I say the
Reaper
is dead.
There are
worse things to fear
than death.
For this is the
transcendant
of that binding
power.
I am
scion
of the end of
life.
Legion has come.
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