Erik's Epic
by
angelinhell
angelinhell: Hey, peoples! This is the very beginning of a very long
(epic, you might say) story of the POTO. (The phans should know who I
mean).
Erik: And you might want to read up on me. The rest of the junk, all
lies, of course. Just like this stuff.
angelinhell: *pouts* He won't tell me what really happened. It's
really pissing me off!
Erik: Shut up. I told you, I'm not-
angelinhell: 195 years old, I know, you told me. You won't tell me
ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Erik: *sighs* Next chapter should feature the film studio with
absolutely nothing in it, because very little of the 'epic' has been
written yet.
angelinhell: I resent that! I've written 15 pages!
Erik: *skeptically* Typed?
angelinhell: *blushes*
Erik: That's what I thought. She doesn't own me, people. I own myself!
Plagiarism Cop: That's a lie and plagiarism besides. I'm afraid we'll
have to arrest you.
Erik: Wha-!
angelinhell: Hey, you can't arrest my main character! Come back, you
idiots! *runs after them*
evilemmylou: *pops up randomly* Oh, and by the way, my friend didn't
get a chance to tell you this (she's chasing after Erik- exactly what
I predicted)-
angelinhell: Hey! *pouts*
evilemmylou: Anyway, enjoy the show!
Movie Screen: Hey, that's my line!
angelinhell and evilemmylou: *stare at Movie Screen in disbelief*
Movie Screen: Well, it is! *pouts*
* * * * * *
"What's the point? What's the point of telling you what you already know?"
The man simply stared into the light, not blinking, not speaking.
"Answer me! Why should I tell you your own story?"
"Because I want to know it from your point of view, and from theirs."
God sighed. "I can't do that. That would be an invasion of privacy."
The man shrugged. "This is supposed to be Heaven. Paradise. Isn't that right? If so, then I have a right to know." He frowned. "If not, then I want my money back."
Laughter echoed through the chamber. "This is their heaven, too. What if they don't want you to know?"
The man shrugged again. "They're dead. They don't care."
God laughed again. "So are you, and you obviously and obnoxiously care."
"I simply want to know."
"Oh, Erik, I don't know..."
His voice softened. "I loved them," he whispered. "I simply want to know if they loved me back."
"Of course they did."
"They said they did. I want to hear it from the one place where they can't lie to me- from their own thoughts."
"They wouldn't..." God sighed. "All right, then. Follow me." The light became a beam and shot off down one of the many hallways.
Erik sighed grimly. "Could you please choose a more material form? One that's easier to follow?"
"Of course," and suddenly Vivian stood near him.
"Vivian? You're..."
"God? I am." Vivian shifted and became Nicole. "And so am I." Shift, this time to Katia's father. "I am, also."
And then Erik stood before himself. "And we are God," the other one said before becoming a beam of light again. "Every person on Earth is, was, or will be God, Erik. God is only as good as the sum of its parts."
Erik nodded. "Take whatever form pleases you, then."
The light shaped itself into a bird. "Now, follow me."
They wound down one hallway until they came to a door that looked just like any other.
"Open it," God said.
He did.
Rows upon rows upon rows of objects, categorized by material, color, size, and shape filled the room. He was surprised to discover, as they walked through it, that each object was different in some way, but not a noticeable way. A human, looking at two similar objects, would not be able to tell them apart, but in a subtle way each one was unique. That black marble cube shone more brilliantly than its neighbors; that ruby sphere lacked any sort of luster whatsoever.
They finally came to crystal, black section star aisle, six-inch-thick row. Erik's crystal was decidedly deeper than its neighbors, and yet it seemed to glow with a hidden, sunken fire. And when God shone upon it, the crystal let out a melancholy chord.
"That is you from birth to death. From the day you were born- January 15, 1831- to the day you died- May 13, 2026- aged 195 years. That little black star is your entire life, as I knew it, as they knew it, and as they knew you. Any who knew you for any length of time longer than a year have pieces of their lives contained there. And you may see yourself through their eyes."
Erik nodded, fearlessly reaching out to touch the crystal.
* * * * * *
The mother lay silent in the bed, waiting for the children to be given to her. "Come now, Jeanne, let me have my children."
The girl shook her head. "No, Madame, I'm afraid I can't do that. You should not be subject to shock."
"What's wrong with me looking at my children? Give them to me, Jeanne." The woman's voice had acquired a note of urgency and fear. "Please."
Jeanne looked as though she were about to give in. "I shouldn't..."
The woman laughed. "Jeanne, just let me see the little monsters."
That decided her. Jeanne tore out of the room like lightning, the two bundles of linen that were supposed to be babies clutched to her chest.
The woman shrieked and tried to climb out of the bed, weak though she was. She staggered out into the second-floor hallway just in time to see Jeanne trip over the carpet at the top of the stairs. Down the screaming girl went, the two children in her arms.
The woman stumbled down the stairs. Jeanne's neck was broken, and her young face still held her shocked expression. One child's face, the girl's, was clearly visible, a pretty face. Her eyes closed in gentle sleep, she was a beautiful girl who would grow up to be a beautiful woman one day.
She wondered why Jeanne had run- until she overcame her revulsion of the dead body and unfolded the cloth that held her son.
She screamed. The thing had no nose, its blue, misshapen lips barely parted to draw breath.
Both children were awakened by her scream, and both pairs of eyes snapped open. Her children's identical pairs of black-and-white eyes stared up at her with un-childlike comprehension.
She tore into the soft babyish flesh of her son's face, screaming, "the devil's mark! The devil's mark! The devil's child!"
There was blood on her hands, and the priest was pulling her away, and she was still shouting, "The devil's child! The devil in my house! I'll not touch it! I'll not touch the devil's child!"
And her son opened his mouth for the first time and cried. His sobbing seemed so musical, so melancholy, so mature... And Father Depruis was calling loudly, "Charlotte! Charlotte!" and she was falling, falling with the light and dark flashing like blinking eyes, and that bittersweet, musical, terrible and intoxicating crying would not stop, would not stop... The devil, the devil's child, the devil's child, she'd not have the devil's child in her house, she'd not ouch it, and her daughter screamed for comfort, seemingly in harmony with the boy, and there were bloody tears on her face, and there was blood on the carpet, and the smell of death was all around her...
She fainted.
* * * * * *
angelinhell: So, didja like it?
Erik: How could they like a lie?
angelinhell: Says Monsieur Opera Writer, Master of Melodramatic
Illusions!!!!!!
Erik: Shut up and get me out of here!
angelinhell: Fine. Stand back! *pulls out chainsaw and turns it on*
Erik: *sighs* I was think something a little quieter.
angelinhell: *in adjoining cell with Erik* You can't arrest me! I
wrote you!!!!!!!!!!!! *thinks* And Erik's my main character!!!!!!!!!!!
*thinks* I know Cathy Rigby!!!!!
Plagiarism Cop: Really? *lets them out* So sorry about that.
angelinhell: *sighs* Idiot fans.
Erik: *laughs*
angelinhell: What are you laughing at?
Erik: You just called yourself an idiot.
angelinhell: Wha- oh.
Erik: *laughs again*
angelinhell: Gr.
by
angelinhell
angelinhell: Hey, peoples! This is the very beginning of a very long
(epic, you might say) story of the POTO. (The phans should know who I
mean).
Erik: And you might want to read up on me. The rest of the junk, all
lies, of course. Just like this stuff.
angelinhell: *pouts* He won't tell me what really happened. It's
really pissing me off!
Erik: Shut up. I told you, I'm not-
angelinhell: 195 years old, I know, you told me. You won't tell me
ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Erik: *sighs* Next chapter should feature the film studio with
absolutely nothing in it, because very little of the 'epic' has been
written yet.
angelinhell: I resent that! I've written 15 pages!
Erik: *skeptically* Typed?
angelinhell: *blushes*
Erik: That's what I thought. She doesn't own me, people. I own myself!
Plagiarism Cop: That's a lie and plagiarism besides. I'm afraid we'll
have to arrest you.
Erik: Wha-!
angelinhell: Hey, you can't arrest my main character! Come back, you
idiots! *runs after them*
evilemmylou: *pops up randomly* Oh, and by the way, my friend didn't
get a chance to tell you this (she's chasing after Erik- exactly what
I predicted)-
angelinhell: Hey! *pouts*
evilemmylou: Anyway, enjoy the show!
Movie Screen: Hey, that's my line!
angelinhell and evilemmylou: *stare at Movie Screen in disbelief*
Movie Screen: Well, it is! *pouts*
* * * * * *
"What's the point? What's the point of telling you what you already know?"
The man simply stared into the light, not blinking, not speaking.
"Answer me! Why should I tell you your own story?"
"Because I want to know it from your point of view, and from theirs."
God sighed. "I can't do that. That would be an invasion of privacy."
The man shrugged. "This is supposed to be Heaven. Paradise. Isn't that right? If so, then I have a right to know." He frowned. "If not, then I want my money back."
Laughter echoed through the chamber. "This is their heaven, too. What if they don't want you to know?"
The man shrugged again. "They're dead. They don't care."
God laughed again. "So are you, and you obviously and obnoxiously care."
"I simply want to know."
"Oh, Erik, I don't know..."
His voice softened. "I loved them," he whispered. "I simply want to know if they loved me back."
"Of course they did."
"They said they did. I want to hear it from the one place where they can't lie to me- from their own thoughts."
"They wouldn't..." God sighed. "All right, then. Follow me." The light became a beam and shot off down one of the many hallways.
Erik sighed grimly. "Could you please choose a more material form? One that's easier to follow?"
"Of course," and suddenly Vivian stood near him.
"Vivian? You're..."
"God? I am." Vivian shifted and became Nicole. "And so am I." Shift, this time to Katia's father. "I am, also."
And then Erik stood before himself. "And we are God," the other one said before becoming a beam of light again. "Every person on Earth is, was, or will be God, Erik. God is only as good as the sum of its parts."
Erik nodded. "Take whatever form pleases you, then."
The light shaped itself into a bird. "Now, follow me."
They wound down one hallway until they came to a door that looked just like any other.
"Open it," God said.
He did.
Rows upon rows upon rows of objects, categorized by material, color, size, and shape filled the room. He was surprised to discover, as they walked through it, that each object was different in some way, but not a noticeable way. A human, looking at two similar objects, would not be able to tell them apart, but in a subtle way each one was unique. That black marble cube shone more brilliantly than its neighbors; that ruby sphere lacked any sort of luster whatsoever.
They finally came to crystal, black section star aisle, six-inch-thick row. Erik's crystal was decidedly deeper than its neighbors, and yet it seemed to glow with a hidden, sunken fire. And when God shone upon it, the crystal let out a melancholy chord.
"That is you from birth to death. From the day you were born- January 15, 1831- to the day you died- May 13, 2026- aged 195 years. That little black star is your entire life, as I knew it, as they knew it, and as they knew you. Any who knew you for any length of time longer than a year have pieces of their lives contained there. And you may see yourself through their eyes."
Erik nodded, fearlessly reaching out to touch the crystal.
* * * * * *
The mother lay silent in the bed, waiting for the children to be given to her. "Come now, Jeanne, let me have my children."
The girl shook her head. "No, Madame, I'm afraid I can't do that. You should not be subject to shock."
"What's wrong with me looking at my children? Give them to me, Jeanne." The woman's voice had acquired a note of urgency and fear. "Please."
Jeanne looked as though she were about to give in. "I shouldn't..."
The woman laughed. "Jeanne, just let me see the little monsters."
That decided her. Jeanne tore out of the room like lightning, the two bundles of linen that were supposed to be babies clutched to her chest.
The woman shrieked and tried to climb out of the bed, weak though she was. She staggered out into the second-floor hallway just in time to see Jeanne trip over the carpet at the top of the stairs. Down the screaming girl went, the two children in her arms.
The woman stumbled down the stairs. Jeanne's neck was broken, and her young face still held her shocked expression. One child's face, the girl's, was clearly visible, a pretty face. Her eyes closed in gentle sleep, she was a beautiful girl who would grow up to be a beautiful woman one day.
She wondered why Jeanne had run- until she overcame her revulsion of the dead body and unfolded the cloth that held her son.
She screamed. The thing had no nose, its blue, misshapen lips barely parted to draw breath.
Both children were awakened by her scream, and both pairs of eyes snapped open. Her children's identical pairs of black-and-white eyes stared up at her with un-childlike comprehension.
She tore into the soft babyish flesh of her son's face, screaming, "the devil's mark! The devil's mark! The devil's child!"
There was blood on her hands, and the priest was pulling her away, and she was still shouting, "The devil's child! The devil in my house! I'll not touch it! I'll not touch the devil's child!"
And her son opened his mouth for the first time and cried. His sobbing seemed so musical, so melancholy, so mature... And Father Depruis was calling loudly, "Charlotte! Charlotte!" and she was falling, falling with the light and dark flashing like blinking eyes, and that bittersweet, musical, terrible and intoxicating crying would not stop, would not stop... The devil, the devil's child, the devil's child, she'd not have the devil's child in her house, she'd not ouch it, and her daughter screamed for comfort, seemingly in harmony with the boy, and there were bloody tears on her face, and there was blood on the carpet, and the smell of death was all around her...
She fainted.
* * * * * *
angelinhell: So, didja like it?
Erik: How could they like a lie?
angelinhell: Says Monsieur Opera Writer, Master of Melodramatic
Illusions!!!!!!
Erik: Shut up and get me out of here!
angelinhell: Fine. Stand back! *pulls out chainsaw and turns it on*
Erik: *sighs* I was think something a little quieter.
angelinhell: *in adjoining cell with Erik* You can't arrest me! I
wrote you!!!!!!!!!!!! *thinks* And Erik's my main character!!!!!!!!!!!
*thinks* I know Cathy Rigby!!!!!
Plagiarism Cop: Really? *lets them out* So sorry about that.
angelinhell: *sighs* Idiot fans.
Erik: *laughs*
angelinhell: What are you laughing at?
Erik: You just called yourself an idiot.
angelinhell: Wha- oh.
Erik: *laughs again*
angelinhell: Gr.