Ch.9
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Guardians
Every culture has beings contained in it's myth that serve as our protectors. These beings exist on a completely different plain of reality, yet they still care for us. Many have used these beings to explain unbelievable coincidence. Many more have used they as a 'physical' manifestation of God's love. The most popular name for these beings is angle...
'To death do you part', that is the line that priest say before you are wed. Ask any widow and they will tell you, death is no match for love. Love is the ultiment expression of our souls, it is what we were meant to do. More often then not, bull shit get's in the way and we find our selves scared. But, if there is some part of humans that live on after death, surely it is love...
Vic walked down his hallway twords his room, 411. He had just had a huge dinner in the lobby, and was feeling pretty good. It was about six, and the day had turned out beautifully. The storm that had once seem to engulf their very souls had vanished into the abyss that had spawned it. He walked down the hall and thought of the evening:
he had fallowed them back to the hotel, everyone but Hayate and some girl with pinkish, puperal hair. They had feed him, and they had talked on this and that. They were actually treating him like he was a member of the group, not an outsider. Vic thought it was because of his victory, he had proven himself, but whatever the reason, they...
HE came crashing back to reality, suddenly. He wasn't sure why, or how, but he knew something was wrong. He had learned long ago that he must trust his instinct, they were something that wouldn't betray him. His head shot around the hall, eyes darting wildly, and the same intensity that was in the lounge came back to him. He looked down the hall and up the other side. It was a nice hall, with candelas for lighting hanging about 7 ft. apart from each other. There were intricate murals on the ceiling, and flowers were etched into the wall, even the rug reflected a huge amount of taste. Then his eyes stop inexerply on a door that was at the end of his hall. He Knew that that was the door...
' Run'. He heard a voice, as clear as day, yet without hearing it, only finding it in his mind. It scared him, ' So I must have finally taken the plunge and gone insane,' he thought, ' well, if that is the case, then I might as well humor my insanity.' He took of for the door.
When he got there he hesitated and looked at the door. The door appeared to look like a door, the only difference between his and this door was the number, 424. Yet, as he went to turn the doorknob, he felt a shiver of fear. It was as if he had stubbled on the gateway into the very pits of hell, and it was about to suck him in. The darkness and that oozed off the door was almost tangible, like it could be caught and kept in a jar. And, for the first time in a very long time, he felt fear. He didn't fear death, but this simple door of wood seemed to have a fate much worse then mere death.
He shook his head and bit at his nails. 'It is just a door' he told himself, trying, desperately, to convene himself of this lie. It was not the darkness he fears, it is what lay sleeping in that darkness. Then, as if guided by some outside force, like something took hold of his hand, he reached, grasped, and turned the knob.
There was no physical wave of evil. There was no visible demon at the other side, who lay ready to steel is soul, it looked just like his room. Yet there was still that darkness, that fear, and as he opened the door, he could feel it grow with anticipation.
" Hello?" His voice seemed forenig, not his at all. He peeked in and looked. IT was just like his, accept the balcony was on the other side, and the paintings were different. He looked at the balcony and saw that it was open, and a steady breeze blew in. This breeze gave life to the white drapes, and even they seemed to be an echo of the great darkness that lurked, every one of there movements seemed ominous, and they swayed in the breeze, looking like the white wearing ghosts of our youth. He began to walk in, slowly, not glancing anywhere but the balcony, that was where he would attack from if....
" Mother fucker!!!" He said, with pain in his voice. He lifted his foot and noticed there was a sliver of glass imbedded in it. He looked down and noticed how there was a trail of glass leading into the bathroom. He fallowed it, and knew that this was where he was meant to go...
What he saw next was a scene that he would never forget. It was an image that became part of his very soul. It would never truly leave him, and would haunt him, like a furry*. IF he lived a thousand years, he knew he would still never forget that image. That this horrible scene, and his parents gory demise would be what he saw, all he saw, when he blinked...
He opened the door in a great thrust, not wanted to endure the horrible suspense of last time. He glanced up and saw the most horrific, haunting, and beautiful scene. It was not the normal beauty, but the beauty an out of control fire has. Shards of glass lie strewn about on the floor, reflecting the horrific scene.
There, on the ground, balled up like burnt paper, she lay. Next to her lay a puddle of red blood, some of which had dried. She was pale. The horrible red still spewed from the incisions she had made on her arms. She was unconscious. Next to her lay a large broken peace of glass, tainted with the liquid red impurity. He absent-mindedly noted that she was naked, and that her hair was still a little moist, but these things seemed infinitesimal, compared to the rest of the scene. He couldn't help but think of christen dogma, that angles forced from heaven become demons, and she looked like one of these fallen angles. He was repulsed, and at the same time, couldn't rip his eyes away from this hauntingly beautiful scene.
" Oh Jesus, what have I done," He whispered, he couldn't stand the scene anymore, could no longer bare to look upon the fruits of his labor, what he had driven her to do. He knew, after the fact, that it was her step father who they, who HE, had made into the Ogema man." It's all my fault, oh sweet god what have I done" He said on the verge of tears.
Then he recoiled and threw himself out of the room. He had just reached the door, when he colaspesed to his knees and threw up:
I didn't want this, I wanted to help people, Oh god what have I done. It isn't your fault.
Yes it is, I took her father, I killed her soul, Oh god what have I done. I Have to save her, even if it caus me my life, I must. Why? Why did it work out this way, I just wanted to help, not cause pain. Why, why do you condemn me to live this farce of a life? Why must every thing I do go so wrong?! I Hate You !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This last thought suprized him, he had never thought it outloud. It was something that he had hidden. And he was truly scared, and he felt the tears come from his eyes. Tears that he hadn't known scene his parents death, tears of pure, unrelenting, pain.
Then the same voice that had said run, said, 'wake up.' Then he realized how presshous little time she had, they all had, and he sprang into action. He checked the blood, the amount lost, and worked with an inhuman skill and calais that only field medics in war posses. He studied the wounds, the blood, and simply functioned. It was a handy trick, his body would do the work, and his mind would be somewhere different, anywhere.
He decided he had to move her, take her to a place where he could work on her. He picked her up, gently, cradling her. She could have weighed a thousand pounds and he wouldn't have noticed, she felt light as air to him. Then he began his walk twords the elevator. His mind was reeling, and still in a dream like state, and he thought, as all people do when they can't accept reality, 'this is a dream, I will wake up, Oh please wake up'
He reached the elevator, and looked at the buttons. There was no need to embarrass her further, she had been through more then enough. That meant the lobby was out. He searched the list of what was on each floor frantically looking for anything. He stopped on a floor marked 'game room.' A billiards table would be perfect, well lite, and long enough. He hit that button and proceeded twords the floor.
It was empty when he got there, and he realized how utterly alone he was with his new burden, how isolated he was. He set her on the billiards table, and ripped his blood stained shirt. He preceded to make a tourniquet. HE then ran twords the elevator and hit lobby.
He stepped out not cool and composed, but frantic. He stood there, in blood stained close and when he came into view, everyone gasped. " There has been an incident" He said, In his best Dr. voice.
He told them a censored version of what had happened, 'let her keep some of her dignity' he thought. Then he made a list of what he would need, asked about a hospital, of corse there wasn't one. On the list he wrote:
1. Blood kit ( check lifeguard station)
2. ID for blood type
3. lots of alcohol
4. sewing needle and thread
5. gloves
6. lighter
7. assistant
They brought him what he needed, and he told them he would call when he needed item number 7. He worked long into the night, fighting off the angle of death, that seemed to stand at her side. Eventually he called for someone, and then he began to give his own blood to her. By luck, or fate, they were both AB. He passed out next to her, and all of the world waited...
______________________________________________________________________________
* furry- a reference to ancient Greek mythology, a demon born of the blood of chronous, that haunts men when they do something wrong
______________________________________________________________________________
Guardians
Every culture has beings contained in it's myth that serve as our protectors. These beings exist on a completely different plain of reality, yet they still care for us. Many have used these beings to explain unbelievable coincidence. Many more have used they as a 'physical' manifestation of God's love. The most popular name for these beings is angle...
'To death do you part', that is the line that priest say before you are wed. Ask any widow and they will tell you, death is no match for love. Love is the ultiment expression of our souls, it is what we were meant to do. More often then not, bull shit get's in the way and we find our selves scared. But, if there is some part of humans that live on after death, surely it is love...
Vic walked down his hallway twords his room, 411. He had just had a huge dinner in the lobby, and was feeling pretty good. It was about six, and the day had turned out beautifully. The storm that had once seem to engulf their very souls had vanished into the abyss that had spawned it. He walked down the hall and thought of the evening:
he had fallowed them back to the hotel, everyone but Hayate and some girl with pinkish, puperal hair. They had feed him, and they had talked on this and that. They were actually treating him like he was a member of the group, not an outsider. Vic thought it was because of his victory, he had proven himself, but whatever the reason, they...
HE came crashing back to reality, suddenly. He wasn't sure why, or how, but he knew something was wrong. He had learned long ago that he must trust his instinct, they were something that wouldn't betray him. His head shot around the hall, eyes darting wildly, and the same intensity that was in the lounge came back to him. He looked down the hall and up the other side. It was a nice hall, with candelas for lighting hanging about 7 ft. apart from each other. There were intricate murals on the ceiling, and flowers were etched into the wall, even the rug reflected a huge amount of taste. Then his eyes stop inexerply on a door that was at the end of his hall. He Knew that that was the door...
' Run'. He heard a voice, as clear as day, yet without hearing it, only finding it in his mind. It scared him, ' So I must have finally taken the plunge and gone insane,' he thought, ' well, if that is the case, then I might as well humor my insanity.' He took of for the door.
When he got there he hesitated and looked at the door. The door appeared to look like a door, the only difference between his and this door was the number, 424. Yet, as he went to turn the doorknob, he felt a shiver of fear. It was as if he had stubbled on the gateway into the very pits of hell, and it was about to suck him in. The darkness and that oozed off the door was almost tangible, like it could be caught and kept in a jar. And, for the first time in a very long time, he felt fear. He didn't fear death, but this simple door of wood seemed to have a fate much worse then mere death.
He shook his head and bit at his nails. 'It is just a door' he told himself, trying, desperately, to convene himself of this lie. It was not the darkness he fears, it is what lay sleeping in that darkness. Then, as if guided by some outside force, like something took hold of his hand, he reached, grasped, and turned the knob.
There was no physical wave of evil. There was no visible demon at the other side, who lay ready to steel is soul, it looked just like his room. Yet there was still that darkness, that fear, and as he opened the door, he could feel it grow with anticipation.
" Hello?" His voice seemed forenig, not his at all. He peeked in and looked. IT was just like his, accept the balcony was on the other side, and the paintings were different. He looked at the balcony and saw that it was open, and a steady breeze blew in. This breeze gave life to the white drapes, and even they seemed to be an echo of the great darkness that lurked, every one of there movements seemed ominous, and they swayed in the breeze, looking like the white wearing ghosts of our youth. He began to walk in, slowly, not glancing anywhere but the balcony, that was where he would attack from if....
" Mother fucker!!!" He said, with pain in his voice. He lifted his foot and noticed there was a sliver of glass imbedded in it. He looked down and noticed how there was a trail of glass leading into the bathroom. He fallowed it, and knew that this was where he was meant to go...
What he saw next was a scene that he would never forget. It was an image that became part of his very soul. It would never truly leave him, and would haunt him, like a furry*. IF he lived a thousand years, he knew he would still never forget that image. That this horrible scene, and his parents gory demise would be what he saw, all he saw, when he blinked...
He opened the door in a great thrust, not wanted to endure the horrible suspense of last time. He glanced up and saw the most horrific, haunting, and beautiful scene. It was not the normal beauty, but the beauty an out of control fire has. Shards of glass lie strewn about on the floor, reflecting the horrific scene.
There, on the ground, balled up like burnt paper, she lay. Next to her lay a puddle of red blood, some of which had dried. She was pale. The horrible red still spewed from the incisions she had made on her arms. She was unconscious. Next to her lay a large broken peace of glass, tainted with the liquid red impurity. He absent-mindedly noted that she was naked, and that her hair was still a little moist, but these things seemed infinitesimal, compared to the rest of the scene. He couldn't help but think of christen dogma, that angles forced from heaven become demons, and she looked like one of these fallen angles. He was repulsed, and at the same time, couldn't rip his eyes away from this hauntingly beautiful scene.
" Oh Jesus, what have I done," He whispered, he couldn't stand the scene anymore, could no longer bare to look upon the fruits of his labor, what he had driven her to do. He knew, after the fact, that it was her step father who they, who HE, had made into the Ogema man." It's all my fault, oh sweet god what have I done" He said on the verge of tears.
Then he recoiled and threw himself out of the room. He had just reached the door, when he colaspesed to his knees and threw up:
I didn't want this, I wanted to help people, Oh god what have I done. It isn't your fault.
Yes it is, I took her father, I killed her soul, Oh god what have I done. I Have to save her, even if it caus me my life, I must. Why? Why did it work out this way, I just wanted to help, not cause pain. Why, why do you condemn me to live this farce of a life? Why must every thing I do go so wrong?! I Hate You !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This last thought suprized him, he had never thought it outloud. It was something that he had hidden. And he was truly scared, and he felt the tears come from his eyes. Tears that he hadn't known scene his parents death, tears of pure, unrelenting, pain.
Then the same voice that had said run, said, 'wake up.' Then he realized how presshous little time she had, they all had, and he sprang into action. He checked the blood, the amount lost, and worked with an inhuman skill and calais that only field medics in war posses. He studied the wounds, the blood, and simply functioned. It was a handy trick, his body would do the work, and his mind would be somewhere different, anywhere.
He decided he had to move her, take her to a place where he could work on her. He picked her up, gently, cradling her. She could have weighed a thousand pounds and he wouldn't have noticed, she felt light as air to him. Then he began his walk twords the elevator. His mind was reeling, and still in a dream like state, and he thought, as all people do when they can't accept reality, 'this is a dream, I will wake up, Oh please wake up'
He reached the elevator, and looked at the buttons. There was no need to embarrass her further, she had been through more then enough. That meant the lobby was out. He searched the list of what was on each floor frantically looking for anything. He stopped on a floor marked 'game room.' A billiards table would be perfect, well lite, and long enough. He hit that button and proceeded twords the floor.
It was empty when he got there, and he realized how utterly alone he was with his new burden, how isolated he was. He set her on the billiards table, and ripped his blood stained shirt. He preceded to make a tourniquet. HE then ran twords the elevator and hit lobby.
He stepped out not cool and composed, but frantic. He stood there, in blood stained close and when he came into view, everyone gasped. " There has been an incident" He said, In his best Dr. voice.
He told them a censored version of what had happened, 'let her keep some of her dignity' he thought. Then he made a list of what he would need, asked about a hospital, of corse there wasn't one. On the list he wrote:
1. Blood kit ( check lifeguard station)
2. ID for blood type
3. lots of alcohol
4. sewing needle and thread
5. gloves
6. lighter
7. assistant
They brought him what he needed, and he told them he would call when he needed item number 7. He worked long into the night, fighting off the angle of death, that seemed to stand at her side. Eventually he called for someone, and then he began to give his own blood to her. By luck, or fate, they were both AB. He passed out next to her, and all of the world waited...
______________________________________________________________________________
* furry- a reference to ancient Greek mythology, a demon born of the blood of chronous, that haunts men when they do something wrong