Die Tragödie von Johann Faust VIII
Hello my beloved readers! How are you all feeling?
We'll formalities aside, I'd like to thank you all for reviewing me thus far, and for, hopefully, many future reviews. Of course, that does mean I'll have to keep writing, which I will. However, as we've all noticed, I sometimes end up having writers block. But for the moment, this annoying problem has been over come! Happiness.
Well, enjoy this chapter, and please, please review it for me. It actually makes writing these things worth it when you all do.
Chapter 7:
Faust stared at the countless tombstones. Markers for where the deceased lay. Things to be revered, respected, mourned. For Faust, indicators of weapons and tools.
He held no respect for the dead. They were, after all, only dead. He had always seen them as distasteful.
Being a doctor, he hate losing his patients to death. Being a widower, he hated losing his wife to it. And being a necromancer, he didn't mind losing anyone to it.
In all, Faust was the epitome of conflicting human emotion. Though he chose not to show it by pumping himself with narcotics. Drugs to numb the mind and body. He hated feeling. It brought too much pain. And besides, if it weren't for his drugs, most notably, his morphine, he would not be capable of surviving amongst the living.
You see, in his attempts to raise Eliza from her state of death, he had found it quite necessary to perform experiments. Some, he did on others. Those that required a living specimen over a succession of days, however, he did on himself. With ought the morphine, he would have long ago feel into a coma from the pain. And with ought anyone to care for him, with ought anyone to report his permanent loss of consciousness, he'd be sure to die. He was reliant upon the morphine. Extremely so.
" Alice Thompson. 1990-1999. Beloved daughter, Beloved friend." Faust read the marker with old, dying flowers. His voice held no remorse or sadness for the youth that had died, nor for that of her family. He didn't seem to care.
Normally, he would be cradling Eliza's skull as he wandered amongst the graves. But he'd left that with Mephistopheles in the church he'd desecrated. It was difficult to believe he could pat with his loves bones, but if he could be with her once more, he would do it.
" Guten Tag." He whispered to a man in his late thirties. He appeared to be visiting someone.
" Hello, have you lost someone?" The man bluntly asked, the sounds of mourning in his voice. Faust was taken aback by the question. Not because it wasn't expected, it was. But because it had been so long since he answered it.
" Yes, yes I have." Faust answered, eyes fading for a moment as he remembered finding his beloved for the last time. How it hurt.
" Me too. My wife. It was two months ago. I really miss her, but, life goes on, I guess…" He said as a small, sad smile emerged, "I'm just glad she could find relief."
" What happened to her?" Faust asked. It always surprised him how talkative people where when it concerned there dead loves. He always was. Then again, he had always welcomed the chance to talk about Eliza, even when she was alive. She'd always been his obsession. Always.
" She got sick.. Very sick.. What about you, who'd you lose?"
" I also lost my wife. She was shot. I tried to save her, but I failed."
" Don't blame yourself."
" I don't. I blame the bastard that killed her." Faust growled. How he hated the unknown man. If he ever found out who had done the cruel act towards his beloved, they would pay. Oh they would pay.
" You miss her."
" Very much." Faust answered.
" Where is she?" The man asked. Faust smiled, he didn't know. Mephisto had her, wherever the hell he was. And he meant that literally.
" Heaven, and Hell." He answered cryptically, " If your asking where she was buried, I'd say somewhere in Germany. But that doesn't matter, because she's not there anymore." Faust stated. To the man, it seemed as if Faust was referring to the fact that her soul had departed her body, but that was not what he meant at all. He had dug her up three days after her funeral and carried her down to the study, where he first attempted to return the sweet woman to the ranks of the living.
" I see.. Why do you—"
" Because, I find graveyards to be very soothing. I much prefer the company of the dead. They are silent, obedient, and so much less random and erratic than those who live." He answered the unfinished question. It was true, he did prefer the dead.
" Your wife was very beautiful."
" You knew her?" The man asked, surprised.
" No." Faust answered. Actually, he had just met her. She had been floating behind her husband for some time, she had seemed shocked when Faust had looked her in the eyes while he was talking to her widowed husband. She had never heard of shamans, after all. She'd spent all her time since death following her husband, attempting to comfort him, and failing.
" Then how would you know…?"
" I can reunite you with her, you can spend eternity together. All I'd have to do is kill you. It wouldn't be hard, or very painful. I can bring you both together." Faust said, looking up at the man through his blonde bangs. He looked, evil, satanic. He usually did.
Normally, he wouldn't have offered to do such a thing to anyone, but he was high on morphine at the moment, extremely high. He was feeling, ecstatic. Pain, emotion, senses, all did not exist for him. He was only waiting for Mephisto to bring his wife to him, why not bring this man to his wife in the process? It seemed completely justified to him.
" What?" The man asked, his voice incredulous. He wasn't sure if this man was joking, or serious.
" If I kill you, you'll be together."
" Your crazy."
" No. I am, insane. Yes, insane." Faust began laughing. " What do you think? Should I kill you? You will be happy again, you'll be with your wife. Someday, I'll be with mine, I'll be with my dear Eliza. Someday soon, Mephisto will bring her to me, and we shall be together again.
" But you, unless I help you along, she may be reincarnated, or, perhaps, she will go to a place in the afterlife that you may never be capable of reaching. If I don't help you now, you may lose her forever. What do you think? I think I'll kill you. Yes, I shall kill you."
" I'm leaving. Don't follow me or I'll call the police." The man said as he hurriedly attempted to leave.
" It ist amazing what people are willing to reveal once in a graveyard. Don't you agree? What was your name, child? Alice? Alice, rise, rise! Live once again and bring this man to his wife! Kill him so they may be together! I command you! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Faust cried out, a sadistic joy in his voice. The man though Faust truly insane, till he saw a skeletal hand burst forth out of a grave. The had was followed with an intire body.
To say the man was frightened was a lie, he was utterly terrified. He turned to run, but a group of skeletons were standing behind him.
" Get him meine skelete! Kill him!" Faust ordered, his glee spilling over and making itself evident in Faust's entire countance.
Now, as was said, he could not quite feel emotion at the present, however, he could allow himself to be completely taken over by any one feeling. Permit himself to be lost into it, glee was typically what he felt when under the influence of his morphine, as all others who induce the substance.
He watched with cheer as the man was torn to pieces by his skeletons. His death was painful, yes, but it must be done, if the two would ever be together again. He would have done something similar to himself long ago, had he not known that his beloved Eliza would disapprove of him committing suicide. The only way they could be together was through life, while this nameless man and his wife were to be reunited in death.
" Return to your graves, your deed ist done." Faust smirked. He was dead. Blood was splattered over the many tombstones and pieces of the mans flesh lay, hanging from the trees and grave markers. He had been completely decapitated. Perhaps the only way the police would be able to tell who he was would be to check his blood, and only if they had a sample on hand.
" Now see? Aren't you happy?" Faust asked with amused eyes as he stared at the bawling woman, the ghost of the mans wife. She was bent over her husbands skull, which had been practically smashed.
" You-your evil! You're a devil!" She yelled at him, tears in her eyes. She had wanted her husband to live on, they had a daughter, and a little boy. Who would raise them now?
" AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Devil? No, I'm human, I am a shaman. I can control the dead. You should be happy, I did not make you kill him, now did I? I could have summoned your corpse as well, but I didn't." Faust smirked. Then he began to leave. " Tschüs."
Faust then left the corpse and the ghost. He would soon exit his body, slightly unsure of what conspired, then he would remember. He would be afraid, enraged, then finally sorrowful. But he would see his wife, and all would be well once again. All would be well….
" What a cruel and heartless display." Mephisto smirked. He stood behind Faust, leaning on the gateway into the cemetery. His vivid red hair stood out amongst the pale, lifeless cemetery. Though the splatters of blood over the tombstones did give it a little color, the blood was not near a royal nor regal color. It was almost black.
" Ahh.. Mephisto. You are here. How pleasant." Faust smiled as he turned. His face appeared happy, content, and at peace with the world. His eyes were sorrowful and empty. What an odd copulation. " Where is Eliza?"
" Eliza? Oh, yes, your wife. I'm presently waiting for the delivery of her soul. It is not very easy to convince God to relinquish control of such a pristine spirit.
" But what about you, Faust? Why are you here? I believe I asked you to watch over the little girl."
" She wanted me to leave." Faust simply answered, still smiling. He looked more demonic than the demon.
" Did she?" Mephisto asked. He knew that she had asked him to leave. He'd gone to her first, after all. However, he did like to toy with people.
Faust had scared her. Quite a feat, actually. The girl had been in the presence of Satan, Lucifer, himself, and had not been afraid. She embraced her damnation, somewhat as Faust's ancestor had, but she did it with ought fear of what could happen to her. She reveled in simply being near someone. Pathetic soul. She could have gone to Heaven. Too bad, really.
" What do you want?" Faust asked, he seemed to be in a hurry… " I want Eliza back. What do you want me to do? What do I have to do to have my Eliza?"
Mephistopheles smirked.
" A lot, actually."