Saturday, August 22, 2020

Cosmic Pariah

The one doomed to drift

    the realms of Sh'Ect

Will always repeat

    the cycle of life

    in circles of death.

 

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Train

I was telling her something.
But then I turned my head to look at her, and I realized, I wasn't. I just imagined I did.
I then went to open my mouth to tell her what I wanted, but I couldn't remember what it was.
How did I get here? Is this even real? Is she sitting right beside me, or is her bewitching perfume the longing of a distant memory?
I am now alone, in the middle of the rails.
Waiting to catch the last train.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
There is just more tunnel.

Monday, April 6, 2020

Queendom Come

A clock begun to tick.
And I charged into the battlefield.
Leaping feet, sword in hand and a silent battle cry filling my mind with blasting rage.
I saw her coming from the other side. Shinning white armor, determined stride, face painted death.
Overtaken by a terrible ecstasy, my eyes blazed with glorious hatred, my arms transformed into weapons of justice. The command had been given. The enemy was in sight. First blood was about to be drawn.
But then, she stopped. Right in the middle of the battlefield, she stopped. Idly staring at me, staring at her own demise.
All the better for me, I thought, and tightened the grip on my sword. Adrenaline pumping in my veins and I kept running, but the more I did, it felt more like her unmoving image floated towards me, like I didn't move at all. Or maybe I was stuck on the ground and something else was what pushed me forward. Someone else. I could feel the friction, the resistance, dragging me down more and more as I closed in.
So, the moment I reached in front of her I stopped too. Like some godlike force outside of my realm of comprehension abandoned me to the inevitable pull of gravity, back in my earth-bound fate and the stillness of it all.
I stood there staring at her, accompanied only by the constant ticking of clocks. Starting and stopping, dictating the war's pace.
I was looking at a mirror. That's what it felt like. Her arms touching my things, her hand holding my weapon, her unmoving silhouette matching my own form in every single manner. All but one. Her color was all wrong. She seemed like a negative image of me. Compelled by the invisible wall in front of me, I couldn't take a step further. Frozen in place, I only raised my eyes, until they met hers. And when I peered inside of them, the reflection I saw was of my true self. So different, and yet all the same. It was our role which defined us, not the colors of our banners. We were alike because we shared the purpose our rank and place commanded. That of the foot soldier and the first line of attack. While looking into each others eyes, the realization I knew we both experienced, was the reason why no one would attack. For raising an arm against the other was to threaten oneself.
We stayed like this for what felt so long, that the rage and hate all now seemed like a distant memory of a warlike game. Lost in introspection about the vanity of violence and the real purpose of existence.
But the battle was not over, and the clocks were ticking still.
The sound of horse hooves returned me to the battlefield. The rider galloped closer and stopped right next to me. I didn't turn my gaze from her, but I saw his horse hitting the ground and neighing in the reflection of her narrowing eyes.
And we were one no more.
Like my reflection in the mirror acting on its own, I was taken by surprise, as she raised her sword and cut down the horse's head. I heard the thud. I knew one of my own was down. Ignoring my presence, she moved out from my sight and stood beside me, above the rider's corpse. I knew she was, but all I could see now, now that the distraction of her was gone, was a vast battlefield stretching away in front of me.
A new sense of purpose burned inside of me. Lying in the distance behind the enemy lines, trough a series of unoccupied spaces, a new path led to what was now the sole reason of my existence. There was no other way for me now. Reroute. Reroute to remain relevant.
The battle raged on and on, and I kept being pushed forward towards a holy grail most of my kind will never live enough to realize. The crowning achievement. Where I would be exalted among my people. My chance to become something superior.
The clocks kept ticking. The slaughter and the pain was fading all around me and I forgot about her, and her fabricated self reflecting illusion, which had enchanted me so. My goal was coming closer and closer by the stride, shedding its white light all around, until it became a radiant platform. The final space.
I stepped inside. I was there. Its burning embrace engulfed me and weightless, I was lifted up. I reveled at the glorious moment, as my body stretched and transformed and a black crown was set upon my head. In my new imposing form, I stared down at the battlefield. It was not over yet, but the board had changed.
A new queen had come.
Far in the distance, I saw her again. She had seen it too. Her own holy grail. I couldn't let that happen. I dashed through the battlefield among towers and knights, bishops and pawns. She could not be granted the same blessing I received. She was the enemy once again and I was set to atone for my missed chance to show that to her. To prove to myself, that she was mislead and stranded from the righteous path. In an instant, I was behind her. She was almost there. Too bad. I sliced her throat. Sorry, we are not the same any more. Maybe, we never were.
A hedonic chill crept up my spine as I felt the surge of raw power flooding my veins. The taste of blood. The superiority of my being, dominating and awe-inspiring. With maddened eyes and drooling rage I raised my head, looking for my next target.
Check.” A voice from beyond this world, commanded.
So I turned, and I checked.
Neither his regal white garments, nor his oversized crown could conceal the crippling fear reflected in his eyes.
And I knew, I was the reason.
Your move, King.” I said.
And a clock begun to tick.


Monday, April 8, 2019

Pagan

There was a time not long ago, when man believed.
When morals were held in hand alongside faith, and people were content to surrender to powers beyond their mortal capability, for a divine favor.
And life is always harsh.
The people of the village of Onslo knew it well.
Stuck like a limpet on a sea rock, the village rooted against a steep slope, close to the highest peaks of Mount Vunio.
On its feet, the thick cloud blanket kept the village away from an old, forgotten world beneath. The Cloud Gods were not remembered fondly, or hatefully there. In such a place their names were nothing more than a distant memory.
Someone else's tale.
But for the people of Onslo, the giants carried a relentless winter on their backs. And spring, was something that had to be earned, by blood and sweat and sacrifice.
So the people of Onslo believed.