Post Mortem

10 03 2008

I couldn’t think straight at all. Her words echoed in my mind and in no way they seemed to help. They were in fact the opposite; the reason of my torment and why my strength slowly left my muscles. The soft seductive voice that controlled my thoughts left me confused. I wasn’t pissed. I wasn’t angry. I was at her mercy when I shouldn’t be. With just a few words she made me stare in awe and conclude there was no other way of the describing all those years we spent together. It wasn’t a yes or a no. It was just a dubious response that could mean a sincere “of course” or an ironic “hell no”. Call me naive, but it left me harmless and made me feel helpless.

The agonizing part develops like a child in its womb. The essence of the pain is the doubt. An uncertainty that drives your mind through a never ending torture.

The knife’s blade felt cold.

It stabbed straight into my heart. Half-in and half-out always twitching and turning making the pain constantly remain. You’d think your senses would fade after a while, but they don’t. The knife hurts just as much in the mind, body, and soul.

The constant debate whether you’re right or wrong; whether you know the answer or not; whether there might be hope…or not. Almost as if you unwillingly wanted to grasp insanity.

My damsel…

She could’ve meant yes.

But then her words would contradict themselves.

I bet she lied. She lied and did it sarcastically.

That bitch…

You’ll easily switch between two absurd points of view with relative ease. Then you’ll resort to logic and none of it will make sense, because later you’ll conclude logic is useless when it comes to feelings.

The hole just gets deeper and deeper. The rabbit has fooled you into his trap and not even Alice seems to be part of this wonderland. Light and hope seem distant and soon turn into a speckle of illusion. A mirage of the dumb…and that means you.

After hours of mental collision and internal conflict your soul is where your heart should be, your logic where your soul should be, and your heart torn apart.

Few understood the process I went through and even less understood why I did it. They knew I wasn’t strong enough to overcome the obstacles and even more to conquer the evil disguised in grey. They found my bones alone. No muscles, no tissue. All of it was drained from me until it hit the marrow.

From that point on I couldn’t see a thing. Darkness mixed with a faint image of old wood. Outside the capsule I could hear many lamenting. Commenting what society had lost. Those interested me not, but the ones who mentioned they had lost a friend caught my attention. A few sounded true and even less voices I could recognize. Those close and loyal enough said nothing at all, they showed themselves true to the friendship by providing the tombstone engraving.

“R.I.P. dear friend, for only in death there are no thoughts: Only certainty.”

If she was there, next to the coffin, I heard not a word. All the better because her silence would not be deciphered.

As if cared.

I chose not to be.

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Betrayal Gone Red

5 02 2008

Peace

We desired to be together. I did with my entirety, but she did only half. A part of her wanted to be with me and a part didn’t. Her words descended as cruel speech from a father upon his child. My inside ached, but I understood. I respected Decay and it would feel as a betrayal on my behalf.

As I treaded back to sulk into the darkness, my thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone. Nevertheless, I was rescued. The five steps that felt like kilometers were interrupted by the calling of my name. I turned and faced back. I couldn’t deny her voice.

It was unexpected, yet perfect.

Our lips touched.

Thoughts left my head and only a calm peaceful tide could be felt. Rejuvenating.

At the end, we knew words would not help at anything. We had already been careless for exposing ourselves in public, but it seemed worth it.

I smiled. She smiled back.

Then her eyes felt empty and her body fell.

Loss

Half of Decay’s sword had already pierced her from behind.

I drew my sword and as a reaction his lackeys arrived.

I used the opportunity to swing my blade. In a swift movement he retrieved his from her body and the blood escaped from the wound dragging her life with it.

The scene held my eyes in place almost long enough to join her. The high pitched swing of the blade woke me up and I evaded just in time. He held no grudge at attacking and drew a second sword from his belt. My avenging chances were slimming.

His men approached as well, but they were no match. As always, stupid enough to follow and stupid enough to fight. They lacked the intellect and the ability to truly assess the situation and confirmed the definition of disposable henchmen.

With one thrust I cut open three chests. Their leather armor was red and prevented much of the blood from being seen. An old technique to diminish the opponent’s moral. Luckily the falling of bodies and screams of agony easily substituted the strategy.

Decay seemed to laugh. I could not be sure. It was dark and he wanted me dead. I had no idea a kiss could change that much.

I wanted to swing, but my arm faltered. It hurt. It bled. Decay had somehow hit me.

My thoughts were in my way. They kept me out of focus. Where was her body?

Another musical attack headed my way. The sound metal cutting the air felt unpleasantly close.

I rapidly crouched and then tackled him with my shoulder. It worked.

Decay lost his balance. Holding two swords did not help regain the standing position. He tripped backwards, unfortunately on her body, and fell helpless.

One blade on the floor and the other held with both arms. He cowered. He acted as a child, upon the sight of a hungry bear, would.

But the bear had no words. The bear’s heart ached. The bear’s soul felt void. The bear wanted blood.

With one hit his sword flew far away. He held his clenched fists up and thought they would protect him. I took no chances. I cut them off.

I dropped tears from my eyes and the sword from my hand. I dropped my closed fist on his face. A successive session of blows and punches at first hit the flesh. Screams accompanied most of them and fueled my rage.

Some time later they stopped and I started to feel the hard and impenetrable tarmac. It seemed over.

I got up and searched for her. Tainted red and with a pale base she laid there on the floor. Back punctured and without a soul. I held her next to me. I hugged her hopping comfort would come out of it.

Decay knew everything, which meant he was a spy. A public enemy dressed in red armor portraying the eagle emblem. A traitor to the nation. And I, a traitor to a friendship.

It was all betrayal. Did the reason or consequences matter?

I would ensure they would both get a proper burial.

Would I deserve one too?








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