Vox de la Morte
Hello… Are you there again? Maybe this time, you don't have to hurt me. Maybe… Maybe this time, you can tell me when the pain will begin and end… And… maybe this time, I won't see you anymore. Adieu to you… For now, you will never haunt me, ever again…8/23
I can make you, and I can break you. You do know that. I see you everyday. I see you walk the halls, I see you walk across the bridge with me… And still… Still, I can't hide this fascination. What is it like… What is it like to slide through walls as if they're just air? Please come back. I need you. Please come back. I swear… I swear, if I had all the time in the world, I would use it all on you. Please come back. 8/30
"Shwee", the voice can often ring in his head like that. Goes on and on, ringing and singing lightly to his head as if it were the poem of old and young. So here stands Shwee, ready to take in the force that is him, the force that is waiting outside, the young child packing his bags, and waiting to go home. So what is he?
"Child", calls Shwee. "Don't be afraid of me…" But the child's fake black hair is pulled under a hat, as he hides in his closet. So what if the years say he's sixteen, to himself he is ten again, hiding in the closet and waiting for Alice to save him. So now the beast waits upon its thrown, awaiting him, it's dearest treasure.
The beast, of all things, wants to get at him, wants to taste his flesh, and peel away all that was taught to him in all these years. It wants to tell what the feeling of difference is, what it would do to someone of the like, and how much it will hurt.
The child knows of Shwee's feelings, of what it will do if he defies it again, with all his heart, his pen, and his writing book. For all know that he will be devoured… in a gruesome way that does not suit himself. So now the child awaits the beast, hoping he can drive it away.
"Please don't… Not again…" he whispers to the cold and sudden night. Now and again, the beast is clawing at his morality, clawing at his own sick and twisted mind, awaiting the chosen fantasy of a boy his age, yet turned upside down. How now had he become one with it… Or how now had he been ripped apart from it? "Leave me alone!" he cries and clings onto his childish dreams, and the incessant fear of loosing what was once his to the belly of a being that was once his.
And now the beast talks about the fear that had once been his… now the child's, the child's fear of having this done by a male beast, and not a female beast. He cries for help, for shame, par say. And the violence that soon streaks across his mind. How he wishes to kill this beast, how he wishes he were the one to kill it!
But it had the upper hand. And though the child could not fall into the beasts trap, he could fall into fear and loathing and hated and violence. All of which was a very good choice at the time. But he knows he knows that the beast is still there, still nibbling on his naked shoulder for the time being. He knows what the beast wants, and he knows that he could do nothing against it. He was bred for this… He was born for this… And now he could not escape it when it was finally time to do so.
"Please… Let me go…" he cries sullenly, reaching out to the flowers painted on his walls. "Please, don't…"
"Now and ever again…" the beast whispers, "Now and ever again… Do you always wish such stupid thoughts? Do you always see me as one so rabid? I'm not here to hurt you, to kill you, or any such thing. I'm here to help you."
"Help…" the boy whispered quietly, letting the beast stroke his throat with one claw. "Help…" he whispered into the night. "Help!"
And so it was there, so it was where the boy was stuck in his lost thoughts, his lost dreams that the beast was still there. Oh, he was still there, worshipping him as though he were a god… But the beast knew that flattery worked. He knew all to well what this could be used for. He knew the child like a book that he had read all too many times.
And the child knew the beast. The beast had been the thing, always following him, always watching him. If you don't act now… His mother had said, it will always take control of you.
But the beast fell upon him, rendering him helpless for all his screams, all his cries, and all his wants falling into a crystal ball which shattered upon hitting the ground with a loud crash. What is there to go on with? What is there?
What is there? Do what you can. Use what you can. The boy now picks up the butcher knife that his mother loaned him. Look at the beast. Destroy the beast. Stab it. Kill it. He plunges the knife into the beast… Into the horrible, god awful beast… The thing… Him. The beast is him. The child feels his hot blood fall upon his fingertips, as he knows what was left of him. He knows that here is the time to let go of everything and everyone. Now is the time.
END PROLOGUE
Hello… Are you there again? Maybe this time, you don't have to hurt me. Maybe… Maybe this time, you can tell me when the pain will begin and end… And… maybe this time, I won't see you anymore. Adieu to you… For now, you will never haunt me, ever again…8/23
I can make you, and I can break you. You do know that. I see you everyday. I see you walk the halls, I see you walk across the bridge with me… And still… Still, I can't hide this fascination. What is it like… What is it like to slide through walls as if they're just air? Please come back. I need you. Please come back. I swear… I swear, if I had all the time in the world, I would use it all on you. Please come back. 8/30
"Shwee", the voice can often ring in his head like that. Goes on and on, ringing and singing lightly to his head as if it were the poem of old and young. So here stands Shwee, ready to take in the force that is him, the force that is waiting outside, the young child packing his bags, and waiting to go home. So what is he?
"Child", calls Shwee. "Don't be afraid of me…" But the child's fake black hair is pulled under a hat, as he hides in his closet. So what if the years say he's sixteen, to himself he is ten again, hiding in the closet and waiting for Alice to save him. So now the beast waits upon its thrown, awaiting him, it's dearest treasure.
The beast, of all things, wants to get at him, wants to taste his flesh, and peel away all that was taught to him in all these years. It wants to tell what the feeling of difference is, what it would do to someone of the like, and how much it will hurt.
The child knows of Shwee's feelings, of what it will do if he defies it again, with all his heart, his pen, and his writing book. For all know that he will be devoured… in a gruesome way that does not suit himself. So now the child awaits the beast, hoping he can drive it away.
"Please don't… Not again…" he whispers to the cold and sudden night. Now and again, the beast is clawing at his morality, clawing at his own sick and twisted mind, awaiting the chosen fantasy of a boy his age, yet turned upside down. How now had he become one with it… Or how now had he been ripped apart from it? "Leave me alone!" he cries and clings onto his childish dreams, and the incessant fear of loosing what was once his to the belly of a being that was once his.
And now the beast talks about the fear that had once been his… now the child's, the child's fear of having this done by a male beast, and not a female beast. He cries for help, for shame, par say. And the violence that soon streaks across his mind. How he wishes to kill this beast, how he wishes he were the one to kill it!
But it had the upper hand. And though the child could not fall into the beasts trap, he could fall into fear and loathing and hated and violence. All of which was a very good choice at the time. But he knows he knows that the beast is still there, still nibbling on his naked shoulder for the time being. He knows what the beast wants, and he knows that he could do nothing against it. He was bred for this… He was born for this… And now he could not escape it when it was finally time to do so.
"Please… Let me go…" he cries sullenly, reaching out to the flowers painted on his walls. "Please, don't…"
"Now and ever again…" the beast whispers, "Now and ever again… Do you always wish such stupid thoughts? Do you always see me as one so rabid? I'm not here to hurt you, to kill you, or any such thing. I'm here to help you."
"Help…" the boy whispered quietly, letting the beast stroke his throat with one claw. "Help…" he whispered into the night. "Help!"
And so it was there, so it was where the boy was stuck in his lost thoughts, his lost dreams that the beast was still there. Oh, he was still there, worshipping him as though he were a god… But the beast knew that flattery worked. He knew all to well what this could be used for. He knew the child like a book that he had read all too many times.
And the child knew the beast. The beast had been the thing, always following him, always watching him. If you don't act now… His mother had said, it will always take control of you.
But the beast fell upon him, rendering him helpless for all his screams, all his cries, and all his wants falling into a crystal ball which shattered upon hitting the ground with a loud crash. What is there to go on with? What is there?
What is there? Do what you can. Use what you can. The boy now picks up the butcher knife that his mother loaned him. Look at the beast. Destroy the beast. Stab it. Kill it. He plunges the knife into the beast… Into the horrible, god awful beast… The thing… Him. The beast is him. The child feels his hot blood fall upon his fingertips, as he knows what was left of him. He knows that here is the time to let go of everything and everyone. Now is the time.
END PROLOGUE