Post by eez on Oct 12, 2009 17:11:19 GMT -5
Alright, I know I haven't posted any work on here in a while but since I promised to help revive this place, I'm going to show you my very own, first one-shot piece like, EVER!
Whoopdee-freakin'-doo~! I was excited at this one so please enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
38. Abandoned
What does it mean to be abandoned?
Does it mean to leave behind or to be left behind?
Or is it both? Is it neither?
Is it physical? Or is it beyond that which we can perceive?
Is it, perhaps, a concept of the mind to explain strange phenomena all around us? That would be what sentient beings do, isn’t it? To label things with our finite words so that we may feebly explain the known world around us in order to quell our fleeting insecurities?
What does it mean to be abandoned?
As I lay here, in a sea of unnatural silence, do I ponder and ponder this strange, haunting question.
How do I answer? Do I answer with experience? Or do I answer with the abstract?
Even as a young child, I had been alienated by my own. A family that didn’t want me, a people who had tried to kill me, and an entire planet that had despised and spat about the very ground I walked with my footsteps; my existence.
Is that what it means to be abandoned?
I say this to myself over and over as I stared upwards sullenly at the tranquil sky. I spotted a few blinking stars beyond the infinitesimal small reach of my touch and felt a strange notion cross my confused mind.
Are these stars, too, abandoned?
Are they left to float and rotate in the coldest reaches of space by themselves for an eternity?
Am I, like these stars, fated to being alone in the vastness of space for an eternity?
But, ah, wait. These stars are not alone, I hear myself say. For even though their distances are indeed great, their numbers are infinitely many so they are not truly alone; truly abandoned.
Why, these stars I see above me now are no different than the very grain of dust and sand that I lay upon. In one handful, I could easily gather several thousand. These stars, too, could easily be gathered by the thousand—millions, even.
So then, as I lay, I come to the conclusion that not even the stars are abandoned. Not even the grains of sand that sift between my outstretched palms are truly abandoned.
They are so many and I…only one…
The gravity of the thought stilled me. I stopped feeling the warmth of the ground and let a frigid spectre take hold of my body; my secure bastion no longer fortified against such frost.
I am only one, my mind echoes faintly; softly so that I will not forget its hushed whispering.
I am not a grand star or a puny grain of sand, which can rely on their infinite brethren for company. I am but one, without an identity, a culture to claim as my own; a purpose non-existent.
Is that what it means to be abandoned? To be truly abandoned?
I do not dare hesitate in order to breathe. Not even as a familiar rumble courses through the ground beneath my still form. Not even as the wind begins to pick up and howl with whistles and shrills like a mourning shriek for a loved one.
I heard the crackle of thunder off into the distance and watch helplessly as the angry clouds covered up my view of the winking stars; an empty feeling plummeting into my body as their small light could no longer comfort me.
I am abandoned, I hear myself say. My naïve self politely told me to deny but I immediately hushed it with a forlorn scowl.
I no longer listen to my naïve self.
It had proved to be my fallacy; my flaw. It was my naïve self that trusted others, saw the good in others, despite my cautionary nature instilled into me since my unfortunate birth. I had let the devils in and in return for its foolishness—my foolishness—it ravaged me and left me but a sickly corpse of what I once was.
My naïve self was my ultimate downfall. It was my punishment.
And because of it I am alone.
Abandoned.
A sour, bitter taste crawled into the back of my mouth and spoiled my temper as I promptly rose to my feet.
I am angry, I hear myself whisper. I am angry at them and myself. I felt my deeper, baser desires howl for revenge, just as the wind around me howled across the desolate plain.
I took it in, let the fiery purifying sensation overwhelm my insides and burn me into my darkest thoughts. I am to the point of swelling; with one untimely prick I would burst and release my wrath. With this zeal I could sweep across the Cosmos and ignite the sky with my just, furious fire. I could collapse star after star, planet after planet, civilization after civilization. The entire galaxy even, if it so suited me! Such was the power I held!
But I stopped.
I stood in apparent horror, my eyes woefully looking down upon my tainted hands. With these once-divine instruments of mercy and justice had I sealed the fates of others with a fury I had wrongfully labeled as “just”.
Mockery. Monster, I heard my naïve self cry out and whimper in the shadow of what I had become.
In this very self-righteous zeal did I cause the abandonment of others. In this very abhorrent atrocity did I cause the innocent to feel what I did.
No one should feel what it was like to be abandoned.
No one should feel what I did.
But I cannot stop, I heard myself plead. I cannot stop the engines of hate and sorrow. I cannot stop war.
Not as one.
I am but mortal; weak and pitiful in my insignificant life.
By myself, I cannot stop in motion what I have wrought. They cannot stop in motion what they have wrought; yet they try their hardest to hide and deny it even when I remain a testament to their callous judgment.
I look off into the distance more and feel the world rumble as the storm approached closer. And as it crackled onward did I hear that nagging ghost of a question echo into my miserable mind.
What does it mean to be abandoned?
I took a breath, and finally reply the answer I had so feverishly sought to find.
It is what I feel, I responded in an indifferent tone.
It is the feeling of being alone; without others to console you. It is the feeling of being unattached, to be free of laws and rules that make nonsense to just the company of one. It is the feeling of bestial rage and sorrow, and the helplessness that follows loyally in their wakes.
It is what I feel, I repeat once more; firmly this time with more stoic emphasis.
It is what I am.
The question, appeased and saturated with my final answer, ceased its incessant nagging and faded away to leave me in peace, but the cruel joke was upon me; there was no peace to be had.
I eyed the massive jumble of red clouds with my newfound indifference and confidence.
What could a storm do to I, who is but one and alone? What could they, the outside my silent world, do to I, who is but above their petty laws and institutions?
Nothing, I hear myself laugh.
And what a cold and merciless laughter it was.
They could do nothing, and I, everything! I, who am free of all morals and scruples, could achieve whatever I desire! By being abandoned I am free!
I am free!
The thought delighted me and I turned my back to the storm; turned my back on the fear of something much bigger than I, something that could end my unhappiness. I need not happiness, I sneer. I am alone and abandoned. What use are joy, pleasure, and comfort? I drift my eyes down to my once proud capital—no…such a name is for a planet with an actual people.
Empire…Yes! That is what I shall call it.
That is what I possess now.
I took in a deeper breath and admired the smells and scents of industry.
My industry.
I am not abandoned, I hear myself scoff confidentially. I possess all I need right here, before me! I possess the means to thrive more than I ever had before!
In this wondrous revelation do I take my first step forward, forward to a new beginning and to their end.
The engines of war were clamouring loudly in the background and I, their supportive father, must go to them with haste and much sadistic glee.
I am no longer abandoned.
I am free.
Whoopdee-freakin'-doo~! I was excited at this one so please enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
38. Abandoned
What does it mean to be abandoned?
Does it mean to leave behind or to be left behind?
Or is it both? Is it neither?
Is it physical? Or is it beyond that which we can perceive?
Is it, perhaps, a concept of the mind to explain strange phenomena all around us? That would be what sentient beings do, isn’t it? To label things with our finite words so that we may feebly explain the known world around us in order to quell our fleeting insecurities?
What does it mean to be abandoned?
As I lay here, in a sea of unnatural silence, do I ponder and ponder this strange, haunting question.
How do I answer? Do I answer with experience? Or do I answer with the abstract?
Even as a young child, I had been alienated by my own. A family that didn’t want me, a people who had tried to kill me, and an entire planet that had despised and spat about the very ground I walked with my footsteps; my existence.
Is that what it means to be abandoned?
I say this to myself over and over as I stared upwards sullenly at the tranquil sky. I spotted a few blinking stars beyond the infinitesimal small reach of my touch and felt a strange notion cross my confused mind.
Are these stars, too, abandoned?
Are they left to float and rotate in the coldest reaches of space by themselves for an eternity?
Am I, like these stars, fated to being alone in the vastness of space for an eternity?
But, ah, wait. These stars are not alone, I hear myself say. For even though their distances are indeed great, their numbers are infinitely many so they are not truly alone; truly abandoned.
Why, these stars I see above me now are no different than the very grain of dust and sand that I lay upon. In one handful, I could easily gather several thousand. These stars, too, could easily be gathered by the thousand—millions, even.
So then, as I lay, I come to the conclusion that not even the stars are abandoned. Not even the grains of sand that sift between my outstretched palms are truly abandoned.
They are so many and I…only one…
The gravity of the thought stilled me. I stopped feeling the warmth of the ground and let a frigid spectre take hold of my body; my secure bastion no longer fortified against such frost.
I am only one, my mind echoes faintly; softly so that I will not forget its hushed whispering.
I am not a grand star or a puny grain of sand, which can rely on their infinite brethren for company. I am but one, without an identity, a culture to claim as my own; a purpose non-existent.
Is that what it means to be abandoned? To be truly abandoned?
I do not dare hesitate in order to breathe. Not even as a familiar rumble courses through the ground beneath my still form. Not even as the wind begins to pick up and howl with whistles and shrills like a mourning shriek for a loved one.
I heard the crackle of thunder off into the distance and watch helplessly as the angry clouds covered up my view of the winking stars; an empty feeling plummeting into my body as their small light could no longer comfort me.
I am abandoned, I hear myself say. My naïve self politely told me to deny but I immediately hushed it with a forlorn scowl.
I no longer listen to my naïve self.
It had proved to be my fallacy; my flaw. It was my naïve self that trusted others, saw the good in others, despite my cautionary nature instilled into me since my unfortunate birth. I had let the devils in and in return for its foolishness—my foolishness—it ravaged me and left me but a sickly corpse of what I once was.
My naïve self was my ultimate downfall. It was my punishment.
And because of it I am alone.
Abandoned.
A sour, bitter taste crawled into the back of my mouth and spoiled my temper as I promptly rose to my feet.
I am angry, I hear myself whisper. I am angry at them and myself. I felt my deeper, baser desires howl for revenge, just as the wind around me howled across the desolate plain.
I took it in, let the fiery purifying sensation overwhelm my insides and burn me into my darkest thoughts. I am to the point of swelling; with one untimely prick I would burst and release my wrath. With this zeal I could sweep across the Cosmos and ignite the sky with my just, furious fire. I could collapse star after star, planet after planet, civilization after civilization. The entire galaxy even, if it so suited me! Such was the power I held!
But I stopped.
I stood in apparent horror, my eyes woefully looking down upon my tainted hands. With these once-divine instruments of mercy and justice had I sealed the fates of others with a fury I had wrongfully labeled as “just”.
Mockery. Monster, I heard my naïve self cry out and whimper in the shadow of what I had become.
In this very self-righteous zeal did I cause the abandonment of others. In this very abhorrent atrocity did I cause the innocent to feel what I did.
No one should feel what it was like to be abandoned.
No one should feel what I did.
But I cannot stop, I heard myself plead. I cannot stop the engines of hate and sorrow. I cannot stop war.
Not as one.
I am but mortal; weak and pitiful in my insignificant life.
By myself, I cannot stop in motion what I have wrought. They cannot stop in motion what they have wrought; yet they try their hardest to hide and deny it even when I remain a testament to their callous judgment.
I look off into the distance more and feel the world rumble as the storm approached closer. And as it crackled onward did I hear that nagging ghost of a question echo into my miserable mind.
What does it mean to be abandoned?
I took a breath, and finally reply the answer I had so feverishly sought to find.
It is what I feel, I responded in an indifferent tone.
It is the feeling of being alone; without others to console you. It is the feeling of being unattached, to be free of laws and rules that make nonsense to just the company of one. It is the feeling of bestial rage and sorrow, and the helplessness that follows loyally in their wakes.
It is what I feel, I repeat once more; firmly this time with more stoic emphasis.
It is what I am.
The question, appeased and saturated with my final answer, ceased its incessant nagging and faded away to leave me in peace, but the cruel joke was upon me; there was no peace to be had.
I eyed the massive jumble of red clouds with my newfound indifference and confidence.
What could a storm do to I, who is but one and alone? What could they, the outside my silent world, do to I, who is but above their petty laws and institutions?
Nothing, I hear myself laugh.
And what a cold and merciless laughter it was.
They could do nothing, and I, everything! I, who am free of all morals and scruples, could achieve whatever I desire! By being abandoned I am free!
I am free!
The thought delighted me and I turned my back to the storm; turned my back on the fear of something much bigger than I, something that could end my unhappiness. I need not happiness, I sneer. I am alone and abandoned. What use are joy, pleasure, and comfort? I drift my eyes down to my once proud capital—no…such a name is for a planet with an actual people.
Empire…Yes! That is what I shall call it.
That is what I possess now.
I took in a deeper breath and admired the smells and scents of industry.
My industry.
I am not abandoned, I hear myself scoff confidentially. I possess all I need right here, before me! I possess the means to thrive more than I ever had before!
In this wondrous revelation do I take my first step forward, forward to a new beginning and to their end.
The engines of war were clamouring loudly in the background and I, their supportive father, must go to them with haste and much sadistic glee.
I am no longer abandoned.
I am free.
BG FTW!!
XDDDDDD No comment, folks
Next time, I'll be sure to read it when I'm not watching anything, promise.
- is that you kept jumping back and forth between the present and past tenses:
