Hello, dear readers! This is a story solely by myself, Caiaphas. Just a
short one shot, yes, but still worth reviewing! I poured my heart into
this, please, lend a bit of encouragement. Now, dear readers, onto the
story!
Oh, BTW, it all belongs to that woman over in Scotland, the one who's name begins with J.K., and ends with Rowling. . .
Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This is who I am. Me. This body, this mind, this person. No mystery, no frighteningly powerful darkened soul, just a man. If you were to try and guess who I was simply by my words, I do not think that you would find me out. It is amazing what appearances can do to a person's view. What rumors and whispers can achieve if you do not answer them, and simply stay silent in the shadows. You see, if you saw me, you would not believe me. But with words, I have a chance. With words, I can tell you that I am the monster people say I am. After so long in hiding, I have become those whispers and rumors, because I haven not fought back. I am who I am. I am the bastard that calls you names; the dark; the hand that squeezes the hope out of your heart. I am like the manifestation of anger from those who do fight against the cruel words of untruth shouted at them. And yet somewhere inside, I may still have some part that was once me, the one who could stand out in the sunlight; the one who could speak the truth in my mind and heart. I am someone who, long ago, had to understand that when this fight comes to an end I might have lost myself completely. Dumbledore once told me that courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. And in truth, everything in world seems easy after living in my own shadowy world. But, in my heart, I fear everything. I fear that when this is over, no one will care who I am, only see what I have become. Dumbledore has given me faith and trust that he knows who I am. I just hope one day Harry be able to know who I really am, and that the hated anger in the darkness of me is really hope unspoken asking to one day be really seen.
~From the pensive of S.Snape
Oh, BTW, it all belongs to that woman over in Scotland, the one who's name begins with J.K., and ends with Rowling. . .
Enjoy!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This is who I am. Me. This body, this mind, this person. No mystery, no frighteningly powerful darkened soul, just a man. If you were to try and guess who I was simply by my words, I do not think that you would find me out. It is amazing what appearances can do to a person's view. What rumors and whispers can achieve if you do not answer them, and simply stay silent in the shadows. You see, if you saw me, you would not believe me. But with words, I have a chance. With words, I can tell you that I am the monster people say I am. After so long in hiding, I have become those whispers and rumors, because I haven not fought back. I am who I am. I am the bastard that calls you names; the dark; the hand that squeezes the hope out of your heart. I am like the manifestation of anger from those who do fight against the cruel words of untruth shouted at them. And yet somewhere inside, I may still have some part that was once me, the one who could stand out in the sunlight; the one who could speak the truth in my mind and heart. I am someone who, long ago, had to understand that when this fight comes to an end I might have lost myself completely. Dumbledore once told me that courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. And in truth, everything in world seems easy after living in my own shadowy world. But, in my heart, I fear everything. I fear that when this is over, no one will care who I am, only see what I have become. Dumbledore has given me faith and trust that he knows who I am. I just hope one day Harry be able to know who I really am, and that the hated anger in the darkness of me is really hope unspoken asking to one day be really seen.
~From the pensive of S.Snape