The Man of Grey
The worth of a man is known by the way he acts to the other of his kind; the others of his own species. How can the facts of life point to the way of enlightenment when you make peace with all living creatures plant, animal, and humane? The habitat of all things in our world contain our homes and the loves we have come to know they are either physical, or mental. We tear away our boundaries in attempt to better ourselves but instead we tear away our souls in process of making ourselves into gods.
I implore you for the logic that seems to elude me, the logic of understanding my fellow man, for it has been high time that I would fit in with humanity and its faults. I understand those close to me; those who are my dead family and friends. The dead speak no words and fill my mind with wondrous sounds of music that relates to my state of worldly items. They speak of the ways I see in the world, which has become the blackest of a dark man's nightmare. Filled with the gruesome facts that endow our world with its pregnant dangers that prowl as large wolves in the distance to sink fangs into the flesh of the good people of the world. I have seen the evils of the dead which haunt
my moves like shadows.
Can you not see the hatred which courses through my veins like that of the carrion eating birds that gleam the intelligence befit of the devil himself? Old Scratch is knocking at my hearth step, waiting for my failure in the watch I keep. The orbs that peak into the very soul of myself betray my horror for the creature that tells my story as a comedy to his slaves as he whips their flesh into ribbons. The lust that flows through me for power, and want of a love to watch me or for me to watch them has turned towards the lust of man and woman. The yearning of warm flesh is confused by the want to devour the meat that covers the bones of my fellow humane creatures. The want of the bodies of the warm entities that I watch day in, and day out for fortnights at a time.
I yearn for the joys of the flesh but it yet poisons the love I feel for the literature I yet write. Pity is to late for the man I call myself, and yet I pray to The Black Woodsman to release my heart to those that might treasure it; yet I fear that being to deeply engraved upon the trustworthiness of the innocent may taint their forms. I am a treacherous fool who uses deceit, and gambling as my tools of trade. Beware, for The Black Woodsman's pupil is The Man of Grey.
Taken for the Devil himself as the personal slave in training; the fool that sold his soul so he may learn the secrets of the black one and his trade. For money and riches I have given away my most prized possession in return for the teachings of the Master of Witches and the scraps of his food which fall from the pit of the garden's droppings. Trust is a fool's hope in the Castle of Thorns where resides myself and the other fools whose footsteps I've taken without a light to the fact. The lust of power and man alike has turned to a rock of hatred; sadness that has taken the light of my eye to that of the gleam in a wicked one's crystal rock.
The trade secrets of Old Scratch rest in my consciousness until the day I consciousness my loved ones beneath the Earth, and yet I fear it for the sake of my own lost soul. The pity of God to never fall upon my face, and to never see the light of day the way a child would in the morn of his birth. Goodbye maggot ridden trees, and horses with flowering manes of corpses. I carry well
this wealth of knowledge given to the forsaken and diseased. I as a leper know the tale of my own well for it is what dwells with me through the darkest pits of hell.
I shall always be alone, and when finally brought to the humanity of others they shall spurn me into the wilderness where the animals of that nature shall rend me apart from my very bones and flesh in scorn of the human race. Oh what irony to be spurned by all that you wanted, and to be spurned from those that you wish to protect. The irony of I, "The Man of Grey".
:TBG:
"Why would you write something like this brother?" Will questioned his younger sibling, holding up the parchment, and frowning slightly.
Jake looked away embarrassed by the stare of his elder brother, and rubbed his neck in a way that portrayed his anguish of the other finding the work he had been saving for the fire.
"I...I was...It was something I wrote the day I thought you would die... The night with the queen..." Jake said softly, and blushed beneath the facial hair that covered his chin, and parts of cheeks.
"I would never die... I will never leave you Jake. Beans brother. I will never leave you to your beans..." Will said, his eyes softening, and taking the page over to Jake's seat, and grasped his brother around the shoulders.
"You mean to much to me to die..." Jake said, tears starting to glisten in his eyes.
Many people in this day and age called him a soft man, or some such. He had feelings befit of a woman, and yet the body of a man. What life was it when he was to wail as a child for the life of his brother?
"I love you brother. More than life itself..." Will said softly, and kissed the other male on the brow.
The brotherly love that Will portrayed to Jake was twisted into a living thing as Jake looked back to his brother behind the spectacles that protected the eyes of the other.
"I love you as well brother. More than you could possibly know..." Jake said whimpering almost, and closing his eyes, revealing in the company of the other.
Will grinned, and let the other lean into him as they shared the collected body heat that was minimal between the both of them. Will hugged his brother around the waist, and felt th younger one sigh in happiness. The story that his younger brother had written seemed to be one of the most heart wrenching, and hopeless stories he'd ever had the pleasure to read of his brother's work.
The heart, and soul of the writer's hopelessness came out in gasps of ink, and parchment. How could Jake care that much about him? Why was it so important that the woman seducing, and fraud like Wilhaim Grimm lived? On multiple occasions had he thought to end his own life, but they were would his dear brother be left? Nowhere, that was his only reason for living.
Although Jacob might not have noticed, the only thing that interested Will in life was Jake. It was an unnatural love for his brother, but love all the same. A bond that was stronger than siblings, and stronger than friends. A bond that one might call that of lovers' but they were of the same flesh and blood.
That was a sin.
He'd never been in the whole, godly attitude, but he never knew what his brother believed on the subject. As long as he could be close, and continue to be close to his brother...he'd be fit enough to stay that way. The way he felt about his own brother could stay secret if the two could stay near each other.
As Jake's breathing evened out, Will leaned down softly, and slowly. Kissing the other male lightly upon the lips, and leaving only the barest of breathe's upon the others lips did he smile. His love would stay secret. In the midst of Jake's dreams, or nightmares a smile graced his face, and The Man of Grey was no more.