Author: Aduial
Title: Like Something You Wrote
Plot: Three's a lucky number.
Rating: +15. May Contain Adult Themes
Verdict: 79.8 / 6.1
WARNING - MAY LEAD TO HOSPITALISATION
VIDERUNT OMNES - All Have Seen -------------------------- Proverbs 30: 11 - 14 There are those who curse their fathers and do not bless their mothers; Those who are pure in their own eyes and yet are not cleansed of their filth;
Those whose eyes are ever so haughty, whose glances are so disdainful; Those whose teeth are swords and whose jaws are set with knives to devour the poor from the earth, the needy from among mankind. --------------------------
I know, I know. I still haven't told you how I lost my eye. It was when I first started to see my angels. They told me not to be afraid, that God was with me. I hated being able to see them. To be able to see a higher creation of God. So I clawed my eye into blindness. It was a horrible thing to see the red fill my eye, before, finally, black. Permanent black.
The angels wept.
It wasn't until much later that I realised what I had done. When I saw my face in the mirror, scarred from my hands, which had torn bloody flesh still stuck under their stained white nails. My left eye wept blood for a few days afterwards. A man found me wandering in the street and drove me to the hospital. He thought I'd had a serious head injury - I was scarred all over my face, and talking to "people who weren't even there."
When the doctors said it was inflicted deliberately by someone else, they started trying to ask me questions about my family. I bit one of them on the nose. The others weren't very happy. The stranger had the funniest look on his face. He looked as if he was caught halfway between fainting and throwing up. Nevertheless, I was pinned down on a stretcher-bed (being merely a boy) and given a sedative. When I awoke, I could feel that there was a bandage over my face. My limbs were strapped down as if I were a madman. And the stranger was there with a woman. They said their named were Connor and Caroline Blaike, and that they wanted to help. They asked where my family was. I bit my lip trying to think of how to answer. It bled. My voice gurgled through the blood when I finally replied with, "in Hell." They looked at each other, and then back at me. I looked away, and licked my salty lips. My lip had a dark purple bruise on it for a month after. They were good people, the Blaike's. Connor told me their surname meant "the dark one" and that he was a descendant of the Tribes of Galway. Although that information meant nothing to me then, and still nothing now. He taught me a lot of things, but kept me away from sharp objects. I remember when he was cutting wood for the fireplace and I tried to saw my finger off. He had that funny look on his face again. Caroline's expression dropped into that of horror, and she screamed. It took weeks for the deep wound to heal. I don't think Caroline could take looking at blood. It was about that time that they told me they had a present for me. In a little green velvet box, they gave me my leather eye-patch. It was too big for my face then, and covered most of my cheek. I soon grew into it. But I soon grew apart from the Blaike's. Before the year was through, they were arguing. One night I heard them, Caroline screamed that she couldn't take it anymore, that I had to go, that Connor had to chose between her or me. Connor wouldn't answer for a long time. Then he'd say, "he has nowhere to go." I remember what Caroline said next. She said, "oh yes, he does!"
And she called an institution.
Connor would still come to visit, but he would never ever stand near me. Caroline came once, but she waited outside. I got angry then. One day Connor brought me a bible, saying that no matter what happened, God would always be with me. I screamed at him and fractured my skull by ramming against the wall. I fainted. They said I had a concussion and convulsed. I couldn't remember my name or anything about myself for a long time after that. I could only remember the little things which the nurses reminded me about. They called me Farfarello, after the demon in Dante's Inferno, asking how such an innocent child could be filled with such hatred of God. All I knew after that was how much I hated God, that my name was Farfarello, that I only had one eye, and that I didn't feel pain. It was an amazing thing to discover. Or rediscover. My mind became preoccupied, and self mutilation a fetish. I adored watching warm salty liquid flood in the wound, and then spill down my body and limbs like a crimson snail trail over my white alabaster flesh.
I would wound myself however possible when I wasn't in my straightjacket. But as soon as I did, the jacket would go straight back on. It was such an isolating feeling. They soon put me in leg restraints after several more head-on collisions and attempted flights of escape. I was in a muzzle for a while, too. But that went after a while. My tongue biting habit was staining the steel mesh and metal on the muzzle, causing it to rust and stink of old blood.
The asylum wasn't a barred or barbed prison to me. It was a place of loneliness, and constant thought. It was my own Purgatory. And still the angels wept. They fought about trivial and universal matters as if they had the same effect on the world. I kind of agree with that theory, though. So many big things become of little things, and vice versa when large matters fall to nothingness. Like Lucifer, only an archangel, the choir of angels ranked 8 of 9 in importance, and he rebelled and became Satan. And on the other end of the scale there is the fact that our sun will die in 5 billion years, destroying the balance of our solar system and swallowing Mercury and Venus. As significant in the universe, as a candle going out to us. Did you know that in ancient times, Lucifer was the name for the planet Venus? I'm full of these strange facts. The angels bring them up sometimes, complaining that all the world is against God, and that the world would be a better place if everyone just did what he told them. Most of the bible is spent talking about Hell, and most of what Jesus talked about related to evils, sins, and Satan. It's almost as if the Devil has become all-encompassing.
-------------------- Whoohoo! I'm on a winning streak! Chapter three's done! Hurrah! --------------------
VIDERUNT OMNES - All Have Seen -------------------------- Proverbs 30: 11 - 14 There are those who curse their fathers and do not bless their mothers; Those who are pure in their own eyes and yet are not cleansed of their filth;
Those whose eyes are ever so haughty, whose glances are so disdainful; Those whose teeth are swords and whose jaws are set with knives to devour the poor from the earth, the needy from among mankind. --------------------------
I know, I know. I still haven't told you how I lost my eye. It was when I first started to see my angels. They told me not to be afraid, that God was with me. I hated being able to see them. To be able to see a higher creation of God. So I clawed my eye into blindness. It was a horrible thing to see the red fill my eye, before, finally, black. Permanent black.
The angels wept.
It wasn't until much later that I realised what I had done. When I saw my face in the mirror, scarred from my hands, which had torn bloody flesh still stuck under their stained white nails. My left eye wept blood for a few days afterwards. A man found me wandering in the street and drove me to the hospital. He thought I'd had a serious head injury - I was scarred all over my face, and talking to "people who weren't even there."
When the doctors said it was inflicted deliberately by someone else, they started trying to ask me questions about my family. I bit one of them on the nose. The others weren't very happy. The stranger had the funniest look on his face. He looked as if he was caught halfway between fainting and throwing up. Nevertheless, I was pinned down on a stretcher-bed (being merely a boy) and given a sedative. When I awoke, I could feel that there was a bandage over my face. My limbs were strapped down as if I were a madman. And the stranger was there with a woman. They said their named were Connor and Caroline Blaike, and that they wanted to help. They asked where my family was. I bit my lip trying to think of how to answer. It bled. My voice gurgled through the blood when I finally replied with, "in Hell." They looked at each other, and then back at me. I looked away, and licked my salty lips. My lip had a dark purple bruise on it for a month after. They were good people, the Blaike's. Connor told me their surname meant "the dark one" and that he was a descendant of the Tribes of Galway. Although that information meant nothing to me then, and still nothing now. He taught me a lot of things, but kept me away from sharp objects. I remember when he was cutting wood for the fireplace and I tried to saw my finger off. He had that funny look on his face again. Caroline's expression dropped into that of horror, and she screamed. It took weeks for the deep wound to heal. I don't think Caroline could take looking at blood. It was about that time that they told me they had a present for me. In a little green velvet box, they gave me my leather eye-patch. It was too big for my face then, and covered most of my cheek. I soon grew into it. But I soon grew apart from the Blaike's. Before the year was through, they were arguing. One night I heard them, Caroline screamed that she couldn't take it anymore, that I had to go, that Connor had to chose between her or me. Connor wouldn't answer for a long time. Then he'd say, "he has nowhere to go." I remember what Caroline said next. She said, "oh yes, he does!"
And she called an institution.
Connor would still come to visit, but he would never ever stand near me. Caroline came once, but she waited outside. I got angry then. One day Connor brought me a bible, saying that no matter what happened, God would always be with me. I screamed at him and fractured my skull by ramming against the wall. I fainted. They said I had a concussion and convulsed. I couldn't remember my name or anything about myself for a long time after that. I could only remember the little things which the nurses reminded me about. They called me Farfarello, after the demon in Dante's Inferno, asking how such an innocent child could be filled with such hatred of God. All I knew after that was how much I hated God, that my name was Farfarello, that I only had one eye, and that I didn't feel pain. It was an amazing thing to discover. Or rediscover. My mind became preoccupied, and self mutilation a fetish. I adored watching warm salty liquid flood in the wound, and then spill down my body and limbs like a crimson snail trail over my white alabaster flesh.
I would wound myself however possible when I wasn't in my straightjacket. But as soon as I did, the jacket would go straight back on. It was such an isolating feeling. They soon put me in leg restraints after several more head-on collisions and attempted flights of escape. I was in a muzzle for a while, too. But that went after a while. My tongue biting habit was staining the steel mesh and metal on the muzzle, causing it to rust and stink of old blood.
The asylum wasn't a barred or barbed prison to me. It was a place of loneliness, and constant thought. It was my own Purgatory. And still the angels wept. They fought about trivial and universal matters as if they had the same effect on the world. I kind of agree with that theory, though. So many big things become of little things, and vice versa when large matters fall to nothingness. Like Lucifer, only an archangel, the choir of angels ranked 8 of 9 in importance, and he rebelled and became Satan. And on the other end of the scale there is the fact that our sun will die in 5 billion years, destroying the balance of our solar system and swallowing Mercury and Venus. As significant in the universe, as a candle going out to us. Did you know that in ancient times, Lucifer was the name for the planet Venus? I'm full of these strange facts. The angels bring them up sometimes, complaining that all the world is against God, and that the world would be a better place if everyone just did what he told them. Most of the bible is spent talking about Hell, and most of what Jesus talked about related to evils, sins, and Satan. It's almost as if the Devil has become all-encompassing.
-------------------- Whoohoo! I'm on a winning streak! Chapter three's done! Hurrah! --------------------