Playing God
By GoldenEagle
Prologue
An explosion.
There was no turning back now. Jason, screaming at me in horror, then yelling. Saying, "Siren, Siren, oh, holy shit! What were you thinking?! Fuck... Fuck... The police are coming. Siren, come on!" And when I wouldn't move, he left me. The person I had done this for left alone. I was left there, the metal cold in my hand, the blood pooling around me. With a slow realization, I had dropped the gun, shining in the moonlight which filtered through the window. No one was supposed to be home. We'd grab a few things to sell and then go.
But someone had been home.
Their body lay before me. I was numb, struck emotionless by this petty spectacle of death. I had taken someone's life. What was that called? Oh, yes. Murder. Me, I... I had become a murderer. I let my eyes float up as I heard the sirens wail, closer, closer, so close I could see the lights flashing through the windows. I should leave. I should run. I think they were surprised when they found me, my head tilted back, a horrible noise pushing through me. I think it shocked them even more when they realized what that sound was. I think I was surprised, too, as it spilt forth in wonderful, pleased, and satisfied tones from me.
All I could do is laugh in giddy joy of what had just happened. I was playing God. Nothing felt more gratifying than doing so, seeing the blood spill out, crimson, beautiful. It scared me. Why was I acting this way? I was the goody-goody, the one who was always reluctant to do the whole robbery thing. And here I was, standing over a corpse, cackling my brains out. But surely... Surely no one understood more what it felt like to be God at that very moment than me. No one could ever understand this power. This horrible and terrible curse... blessing...?
I was God. I was invincible.
************
The world in flames. Crimson, beautiful dancers, all there because I had called them to be so. Devouring human lives as I may devour breakfast, slowly picking a piece out, bringing it to my lips, chewing, slowly, enjoying the object deteriorate at my touch. I smile in glee as the fire does my bidding, entrapping the entire city, people crying out a death cry, the last noise they'll ever make. Death. How strange people fear it so. I think pushing it away does nothing but anger it, forcing it harder upon a person.
Yet if you do as I do, embrace it wholly, it welcomes you. Does as you wish. Even worship you, I would dare say. I can't help but smile and laugh as I see the death around me, the burnt corpses laying before me, some still twitching quite beautifully. All of this, at my command. In all of Gaea, it is I who holds the most power. I must! Look, look at what surrounds me. All my doing, so many now dead. It makes me ecstatic, overjoyed. People think I'm insane, sadistical... But do people scorn those who stare at a painting for some time in a great hallway? What I do is merely the same. I have an appreciation for the arts of fate, especially in the dimension of death. People call me a murderer, a beast, evil... But I merely do the inevitable, taking a life. What does it matter if that man, that woman, that child, infant, dies today? They would have died later on, much later, having to go through a horrible, wretched thing known as life. No, I did them a favor, taking this position. Of course, no one could dare to understand. No one could comprehend my role.
For I am God. I am untouchable.
Author's Note: Yes, I know. Rather dark. I'm wholly devoted to my Leviathan's Daughter story right now, so I don't think I'll work as fully on this story. It just came to me, in fact. If you didn't understand, the first point of view was in Siren's perspective (a new charecter, obviously), and the second in Dillandau's. I might not even continue on this story. Depends on the reviews and inpirations. I just felt like doing a piece that looked into the minds of murderers, kind of. Plus, I'm planning on making it a twisted, Dilly romance. I thought I would make my own version. After all, who really thinks Dillandau's going to go for the sweet, innocent girls every time? He needs someone strong with which he can relate to. Anyways, that's all I have to say. The rest of the story will most likely be in third person, since first is fun but always seems to limited for me. Chow!
By GoldenEagle
Prologue
An explosion.
There was no turning back now. Jason, screaming at me in horror, then yelling. Saying, "Siren, Siren, oh, holy shit! What were you thinking?! Fuck... Fuck... The police are coming. Siren, come on!" And when I wouldn't move, he left me. The person I had done this for left alone. I was left there, the metal cold in my hand, the blood pooling around me. With a slow realization, I had dropped the gun, shining in the moonlight which filtered through the window. No one was supposed to be home. We'd grab a few things to sell and then go.
But someone had been home.
Their body lay before me. I was numb, struck emotionless by this petty spectacle of death. I had taken someone's life. What was that called? Oh, yes. Murder. Me, I... I had become a murderer. I let my eyes float up as I heard the sirens wail, closer, closer, so close I could see the lights flashing through the windows. I should leave. I should run. I think they were surprised when they found me, my head tilted back, a horrible noise pushing through me. I think it shocked them even more when they realized what that sound was. I think I was surprised, too, as it spilt forth in wonderful, pleased, and satisfied tones from me.
All I could do is laugh in giddy joy of what had just happened. I was playing God. Nothing felt more gratifying than doing so, seeing the blood spill out, crimson, beautiful. It scared me. Why was I acting this way? I was the goody-goody, the one who was always reluctant to do the whole robbery thing. And here I was, standing over a corpse, cackling my brains out. But surely... Surely no one understood more what it felt like to be God at that very moment than me. No one could ever understand this power. This horrible and terrible curse... blessing...?
I was God. I was invincible.
************
The world in flames. Crimson, beautiful dancers, all there because I had called them to be so. Devouring human lives as I may devour breakfast, slowly picking a piece out, bringing it to my lips, chewing, slowly, enjoying the object deteriorate at my touch. I smile in glee as the fire does my bidding, entrapping the entire city, people crying out a death cry, the last noise they'll ever make. Death. How strange people fear it so. I think pushing it away does nothing but anger it, forcing it harder upon a person.
Yet if you do as I do, embrace it wholly, it welcomes you. Does as you wish. Even worship you, I would dare say. I can't help but smile and laugh as I see the death around me, the burnt corpses laying before me, some still twitching quite beautifully. All of this, at my command. In all of Gaea, it is I who holds the most power. I must! Look, look at what surrounds me. All my doing, so many now dead. It makes me ecstatic, overjoyed. People think I'm insane, sadistical... But do people scorn those who stare at a painting for some time in a great hallway? What I do is merely the same. I have an appreciation for the arts of fate, especially in the dimension of death. People call me a murderer, a beast, evil... But I merely do the inevitable, taking a life. What does it matter if that man, that woman, that child, infant, dies today? They would have died later on, much later, having to go through a horrible, wretched thing known as life. No, I did them a favor, taking this position. Of course, no one could dare to understand. No one could comprehend my role.
For I am God. I am untouchable.
Author's Note: Yes, I know. Rather dark. I'm wholly devoted to my Leviathan's Daughter story right now, so I don't think I'll work as fully on this story. It just came to me, in fact. If you didn't understand, the first point of view was in Siren's perspective (a new charecter, obviously), and the second in Dillandau's. I might not even continue on this story. Depends on the reviews and inpirations. I just felt like doing a piece that looked into the minds of murderers, kind of. Plus, I'm planning on making it a twisted, Dilly romance. I thought I would make my own version. After all, who really thinks Dillandau's going to go for the sweet, innocent girls every time? He needs someone strong with which he can relate to. Anyways, that's all I have to say. The rest of the story will most likely be in third person, since first is fun but always seems to limited for me. Chow!
