"Stop it! I won't hear it!" I scream as I run into the mansion,
covering my ears. I'm sure I look very crazy at this point, but I don't
care anymore. I feel the spirit of Pious Augustus follow me to the foyer.
"You know I'm right, Alex. You know I spoke the truth in that bar, and you know I continue to speak true. I was going to give the human race what it deserved, and you know it."
"Those people in the bar don't represent all humans. There are good people." I try to conceal the panic in my voice, but I feel I do a terrible job.
"Good people," he scoffs, "like your grandfather."
At this, I feel my gaze contort to a stony glare.
"Don't you dare speak of my grandfather in that tone Pious!" I spit, "You don't even deserve to have his name on your tongue."
He ignores me and asks, with a twinge of concern thrown into his voice for effect:
"How did your parents die, Alex?"
The question confuses me, and the confusion shows on my face.
"They.they died in a fire. Our house burned down one night while grandfather was staying with us. He got me out and called the fire department, but they couldn't save my parents."
"Ah yes, this would be 'the accident', wouldn't it?" Pious says mockingly.
"It was an accident." I argue.
"Alex," Pious shakes his head at me, "after what you've been through you should know that there are no accidents."
I gape at Pious.
"What? What do you." as the realization of his implication comes to me, I growl, "If you, or the Ancients, had anything to do with my parents' deaths, I swear."
"First of all young lady, there isn't anything else you can do to me, and you're hardly in a position to threaten as much. Second of all, I am hardly deserving of your venom as far as this 'accident' goes."
I'm about to ask what he is talking about, again, but a flash of light interrupts me.
************************************************************************
"Where the hell are we?" I ask as I rub the flash out of my eyes.
"Look around and tell me yourself." Pious responds impatiently.
The room is very tiny, and with the lights off it's difficult to see. Nevertheless, between the moonlight shining from the open window and the tiny nightlight on the wall, I can see enough. I recognize the tiny bed with unicorns on the blanket, the large toy box where a rag-doll is tossed haphazardly on the top of it, and most importantly, the scrawny four-year- old with stringy blonde hair curled up under the covers.
"This is my room.in my parents house."
"And the girl."
".is me."
The footsteps from down the hall startle me back to attention, and I look toward the doorway. In the darkness, I can barely make out my grandfather, setting something by the doorway, then stepping into my room. Quietly, so as not to wake me I presume, he creeps over to my bed and kneels down. Even with the limited light, I can see the love for me in his eyes. I had seen that same love in his eyes millions of times for many years after this. He gently strokes strands of blonde hair away from my smooth young face, rests his hand on my cheek for a minute, leaves a soft kiss on my forehead, gets up, and walks out. I feel a lump come to my throat at this. All of the sudden, I'm overwhelmed with longing for these days, and a sudden awareness of how alone I really am now.
I'm jerked back to attention when Grandfather walks back into the room. This time, he is carrying the thing he had set by the door earlier. In the darkness, I can barely make out a carton and a spout. Slowly and methodically, Grandfather tips the carton, spilling the liquid inside onto the floor, onto my toys, and around my bed. I gape in horror as I feel the scent of gasoline drift to my nose.
"What is he.?" My question hangs in the air as grandfather takes out a match, and, with shaking hands, lights it. I see his expression, wrought with pain, in the light of the match before he drops in onto the floor.
"Grandfather! No!" But my pleas go unheard as I see my childhood bedroom engulfed in flames in a matter of seconds. Shielding his face, my grandfather runs away, leaving me to burn.
************************************************************************
Another flash of light later, Pious and I are standing outside the house, watching the fire. The fire department has arrived by now, and are trying to contain the flames. I look over and see Grandfather, looking at the flames with a blank expression on his face. What's wrong? I think to myself, Don't you want to look all nice and concerned for the people, so they don't suspect? At this point, I am still too shocked at what I just saw to even react. After a few minutes, one of the firefighters goes over to my grandfather to update him on the situation, a conversation I manage to overhear.
".unfortunately, it looks like we got to the parents too late."
"What about the daughter?"
"We've still got someone in there for her, but it doesn't look good."
"Everyone! Look!" One of the other firefighters yells and points at the house.
I look toward the house to see a firefighter running out, holding a bundle in a blanket close to his chest. When he gets to my grandfather, I see my 4-year-old self look out from the blanket, tired, disoriented, and very confused. My grandfather takes me in his arms and looks at the firefighter.
"How can I thank you.?"
"Paul. Paul Augustine."
Grandfather gets a bewildered look on his face as the firefighter lifts the helmet off his head. By the shocked and disgusted expression on Grandfather's face, and his sudden move to bury my face in his chest, I can tell that he sees what I'm seeing; Pious Augustus in his demonic form.
The last thing I see is Pious, the hero of this story, walking away, a smug grin stretching across his skeletal face.
************************************************************************
The human mind is an amazing thing, and there is a great deal it can take. What it cannot take, however, is when the world around it is turned upside down. When it realizes that the thing it learned to love is an enemy, and that it owes it's continued existence to something it had grown to hate, something gives. At what point during either of these realizations Alex Roivas snapped, no one knows. But when it happened, it wasn't loud, or violent. Most people may not even have been able to see it, had they been there. But the astute would've been able to see the spirit and consciousness of Alex Roivas leave her body as she walked slowly down into the basement, to the Ruins of Ehn'gha. She could still move, still live, barely, but something was noticeably different.
Alex Roivas was now no more.
Darkness had taken over.
"You know I'm right, Alex. You know I spoke the truth in that bar, and you know I continue to speak true. I was going to give the human race what it deserved, and you know it."
"Those people in the bar don't represent all humans. There are good people." I try to conceal the panic in my voice, but I feel I do a terrible job.
"Good people," he scoffs, "like your grandfather."
At this, I feel my gaze contort to a stony glare.
"Don't you dare speak of my grandfather in that tone Pious!" I spit, "You don't even deserve to have his name on your tongue."
He ignores me and asks, with a twinge of concern thrown into his voice for effect:
"How did your parents die, Alex?"
The question confuses me, and the confusion shows on my face.
"They.they died in a fire. Our house burned down one night while grandfather was staying with us. He got me out and called the fire department, but they couldn't save my parents."
"Ah yes, this would be 'the accident', wouldn't it?" Pious says mockingly.
"It was an accident." I argue.
"Alex," Pious shakes his head at me, "after what you've been through you should know that there are no accidents."
I gape at Pious.
"What? What do you." as the realization of his implication comes to me, I growl, "If you, or the Ancients, had anything to do with my parents' deaths, I swear."
"First of all young lady, there isn't anything else you can do to me, and you're hardly in a position to threaten as much. Second of all, I am hardly deserving of your venom as far as this 'accident' goes."
I'm about to ask what he is talking about, again, but a flash of light interrupts me.
************************************************************************
"Where the hell are we?" I ask as I rub the flash out of my eyes.
"Look around and tell me yourself." Pious responds impatiently.
The room is very tiny, and with the lights off it's difficult to see. Nevertheless, between the moonlight shining from the open window and the tiny nightlight on the wall, I can see enough. I recognize the tiny bed with unicorns on the blanket, the large toy box where a rag-doll is tossed haphazardly on the top of it, and most importantly, the scrawny four-year- old with stringy blonde hair curled up under the covers.
"This is my room.in my parents house."
"And the girl."
".is me."
The footsteps from down the hall startle me back to attention, and I look toward the doorway. In the darkness, I can barely make out my grandfather, setting something by the doorway, then stepping into my room. Quietly, so as not to wake me I presume, he creeps over to my bed and kneels down. Even with the limited light, I can see the love for me in his eyes. I had seen that same love in his eyes millions of times for many years after this. He gently strokes strands of blonde hair away from my smooth young face, rests his hand on my cheek for a minute, leaves a soft kiss on my forehead, gets up, and walks out. I feel a lump come to my throat at this. All of the sudden, I'm overwhelmed with longing for these days, and a sudden awareness of how alone I really am now.
I'm jerked back to attention when Grandfather walks back into the room. This time, he is carrying the thing he had set by the door earlier. In the darkness, I can barely make out a carton and a spout. Slowly and methodically, Grandfather tips the carton, spilling the liquid inside onto the floor, onto my toys, and around my bed. I gape in horror as I feel the scent of gasoline drift to my nose.
"What is he.?" My question hangs in the air as grandfather takes out a match, and, with shaking hands, lights it. I see his expression, wrought with pain, in the light of the match before he drops in onto the floor.
"Grandfather! No!" But my pleas go unheard as I see my childhood bedroom engulfed in flames in a matter of seconds. Shielding his face, my grandfather runs away, leaving me to burn.
************************************************************************
Another flash of light later, Pious and I are standing outside the house, watching the fire. The fire department has arrived by now, and are trying to contain the flames. I look over and see Grandfather, looking at the flames with a blank expression on his face. What's wrong? I think to myself, Don't you want to look all nice and concerned for the people, so they don't suspect? At this point, I am still too shocked at what I just saw to even react. After a few minutes, one of the firefighters goes over to my grandfather to update him on the situation, a conversation I manage to overhear.
".unfortunately, it looks like we got to the parents too late."
"What about the daughter?"
"We've still got someone in there for her, but it doesn't look good."
"Everyone! Look!" One of the other firefighters yells and points at the house.
I look toward the house to see a firefighter running out, holding a bundle in a blanket close to his chest. When he gets to my grandfather, I see my 4-year-old self look out from the blanket, tired, disoriented, and very confused. My grandfather takes me in his arms and looks at the firefighter.
"How can I thank you.?"
"Paul. Paul Augustine."
Grandfather gets a bewildered look on his face as the firefighter lifts the helmet off his head. By the shocked and disgusted expression on Grandfather's face, and his sudden move to bury my face in his chest, I can tell that he sees what I'm seeing; Pious Augustus in his demonic form.
The last thing I see is Pious, the hero of this story, walking away, a smug grin stretching across his skeletal face.
************************************************************************
The human mind is an amazing thing, and there is a great deal it can take. What it cannot take, however, is when the world around it is turned upside down. When it realizes that the thing it learned to love is an enemy, and that it owes it's continued existence to something it had grown to hate, something gives. At what point during either of these realizations Alex Roivas snapped, no one knows. But when it happened, it wasn't loud, or violent. Most people may not even have been able to see it, had they been there. But the astute would've been able to see the spirit and consciousness of Alex Roivas leave her body as she walked slowly down into the basement, to the Ruins of Ehn'gha. She could still move, still live, barely, but something was noticeably different.
Alex Roivas was now no more.
Darkness had taken over.