Reincarnated Poet: Hello all, I'm not exactly sure where I want to venture to next in my endless list of half finished stories and non-developed ideas so I am writing a series of one shots that I'm going to be calling "Songs to the Grave" they will be, for the most part, Covenant based, however, it is the theme I will be sticking to, not the genre or fan base. They will all be based loosely off of different quotes, which I will supply at the beginning of each individual chapter along with who was quoted as saying it. If you'd like to see something revolving around a specific character from a specific show, you can send me a message or a review and let me know. I'm always up for challenges.
Proudly - Story One of Songs to the Grave
"One should die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly."
Friedrich Nietzsche
I see the hatred in his eyes every time he walks up those stairs and lays his burdens down upon the small wooden table. He tries to hide it well: the sadness, the heartbreak, the worry, the disappointment, the hatred. He fails. I know its there. I recognize it well, for I once wore those same feelings upon my own heart, a scant twenty years ago when I stood in his shoes.
It is rather difficult, knowing that I once was as sharp in body as I still am in mind, feeling the saliva slip from my lips to fall to my chin, caring so strongly for the ones I love, never touching.
I was a proud youth with a strong back and an even stronger sense of self righteousness. I am not too proud to admit that now, as a machine pumps air for me. It is nearly impossible to be proud when you need an old family friend to feed you and to keep you clean. It is impossible to be proud when your seventeen year old son is the one running your family because you are too feeble to do it yourself.
He brought that young girl to see me, and I could see in his eyes the same feelings I felt for his mother. I see her fear as she finally realizes what she could lose him to, what he could become. He leaves, with that sad combination of emotions on his face now, as if he's not completely happy with his decision to let the girl in on the secret of his shameful father.
Time passes so quickly at times and so slowly at others that I sometimes become confused as to when things have occurred. It doesn't feel like even a day before Evelyn is kneeling before me, words pinched with worry, begging me to just stop being selfish.
As she begs me for this one thing I am reminded of something I read as a boy. Nietzsche, I believe. My son is going to die, she tells me. He is going to die unless I, just this once, am the father that my son needs and deserves. I can hear the heart monitor beeping, lending rhythm and flow to her speech, and in that second I decided.
As I say the words I can't help but feel as though maybe I have regained some of the pride of my youth. The light envelops and finally leaves my eyes and for the first time in a long time, I am proud of my actions and proud of my decisions.
A great man once said that if you could no longer live proudly, that you should die proudly. When I was young, I believed this to be a foolish sentiment, found mostly among the more traditional of cultures such as the Japanese. Now, as I lay dieing, I have come to realize that it is not sentiment. No, it is absolution, redemption, and penance all brought together to offer one last shimmer of a better world into the hearts of men long separated from it.