Parody of Life
To be snatched from the light...
And given to darkness..?
--
I remember the day I died.
Fresh-faced, wet behind the ears, I was a typical youngster: hyperactive to a fault. It was before long that I decided to steal away from boring, dull home and enter the Hunting Ground of Henesys.
Then, I learnt why it was called so.
Screams were followed by proud battle cries, the swish of metal ever-present. Deafened by this maze of noise, I stumbled behind a stack of hay, lost. My pathetic shrieks for help joined the jarring discordance of noise as I called for my mother, my father, just someone to help me. I was left unheard. Resigned to hiding, I shifted a little, and sat down on my fleshy rump.
Golden-brown lines fell across my face, and I leant down to rub the itch. Unbeknownst to me, I had disturbed my shelter, and my world was lost in yellow.
"There, one more of them! I need that orange mushroom cap!"
Quests. Were those the only reasons for their murder? Cruel bastards.
Beating rapidly, my heart sent frenzied blood coursing around my body, and the frightened I stared at the crier of that statement as a mental riot took over my body.
I could not think, could not move, could not avoid that stab.
Drops of blood like shining rubies spurted out of the gaping wound that had just erupted. The spear had pierced through my thin membrane, entering flesh and drawing blood.
My mind remained perfectly functional for a few seconds. I felt the warrior shoving me off his spear disdainfully.
"I need to clean this."
Then, I fell onto the ground,
fell into the arms of death
--
Perpetual blackness spread out on all sides of me, reaching out its dark capes to me hesitatingly, as if deciding whether to welcome this newcomer to its dark world. Swimming around broodingly, I decided to move forward as I was lost in various thoughts. Was this the "after-life" state? Or did we actually live on even after death?
I saw other drifting white spirits, all lost and forlorn-looking. They never talked. It seemed as if that contact with each other was prohibited in this strange place.
Gloomy days matured me. I thought no more of my childhood days, only a certain weariness about the future. And the future meant another day of pondering over thoughts, doing nothing at all.
One day, there was a disturbance in the black, and I could feel it trembling in the atmosphere, a tense, whitish feeling, completely in contrast with the calm dark of this silent world. And as I peered into the non-existent horizon, I realised that a wave of white was sweeping across this plane, and I realised it was charging towards me. Shocked, I floated, drifted, as I was reborn, as
life gave me another breath
--
Cavernous jaws seemed to close upon me as I woke up from death. The sandstone stalactites split the air above, seeming to rain downwards into a killing stroke. I was reminded of the spear I was slain by, that straight lance of heated steel that tore through me.
An empty, dying breeze swept past me. Something flapped above me, and I instinctively looked up. A yellow paper rode upon the air current, as the red characters upon it flickered like dancing flames. Strange, I thought, that someone had placed that weird object on my forehead. With no limbs to remove it, I left it unmolested as I searched for somebody, anybody in this god-forsaken, desolate place.
A few lifeless hops led me to a gargantuan cave where I could see other mushrooms trudging around. Upon closer look, I changed my thoughts. Their pale, ashen skin belied their looks, and I could see the same charms upon their cap. They were definitely not mushrooms.
I decided to question one of those hideous beings.
"Why are you all so... white? Are you mushrooms?"
"We were mushrooms," he deadpanned.
"You look... horrendous."
Aggravation stole over his calm, serene features as the unintended insult was spoken. A headlong charge at me was started, and I only managed to scramble away in time, leaving bloodless marks upon the rocks as my flesh scraped across ground.
"Wh... why is there no blood?"
"You're a zombie, just like us! You're horrendous, just like us!" the Zombie Mushroom screamed, flinging his body at me. Fortunately for me, another of those freaks blocked him, and they steadily restrained him.
Muttering a thanks, I left the main group, trying to find my way out of this bleak, isolated place.
As I was walking along, I thought about the antagonistic zombie's comment. "You're a zombie, you're horrendous!" Was I one of them too? Meandering along, I fell face-first into a pile of muck. Somehow, it retained its reflectivity, and I saw my own face.
The repulsive, revolting creature within screamed,
the transformed, misshapen me
--
I soon learned how life, or perhaps, death, went on here.
Whenever anyone came, that person would be mobbed to death. Sure, we would lose a few of us, but we would win eventually. Even I took part in the brutality of the killings.
The savagery of it all no longer repulsed me. I was one of the Zombie Mushrooms now. I was an undead, a heartless, callous creature. No blood ran through me. No feelings ran through me. No life ran through me.
I was no longer a mushroom.
My cruelty was unmatched. How I hated those humans, those fragile creatures, abusing their power to slay us. Those cowardly creatures wore the thickest of armour, spinelessly wielded bows, dealing death from afar. They were despicable.
They did not deserve to be on this world. They had to die.
I remembered the asshole that killed me. I saw him the other day, and sent him packing along my hundreds of other kills.
Did I regret it, regret any other killing? No.
Perhaps all crimes must be dealt with. One day, a weak, petite girl sauntered in unwittingly, and aroused our bloodthirst. As I buried her underneath, a soft cry for help escaped from her mouth, followed by words that would haunt me forever.
"You cruel monsters!"
I never thought that I would become like the humans, so evil and wicked. The sheer vengeance I sought blinded me, made me become a killing machine. I had become worse that those whom I sought revenge against, those whom I hated for the very acts I did now. Killing innocents... it was so cruel. I thought about all the blood I shed, all the lives I took, and wept invisible tears.
Guilt tormented me. I was wrecked apart from the inside. The emotions I felt were unbearable, the grief, the remorse, the pain... I felt like I was dying over again.
How I wished that I could take back all the cruelty that I dispensed. My uncaring, unfeeling demeanour was broken, the facade I built shattered.
I was mad by then, driven crazy by all that agony. I could take it no longer.
I laughed.
Chortling, I released all that tension in me, all the bursting, ballistic emotions that swelled and ebbed like the tide. I fled into my own silent world, a world without anyone, anything.
Not even me.
This world was a sham. Emotions... they are just a lie.
Everything, everything, I say,
is just a parody
--
Locked inside, trapped inside
A world I can't break free
Perhaps I have long since died
I can never truly be
--
A/N thing: I started this last year, only continued it now -.-. I haven't posted in ages. All the last lines rhyme, yay.