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Random Story for no particular reason

#1   Neon 

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    Posted 16 January 2005 - 02:13 AM

    Note that I don't plan on writing anything to go before or after this scene. I just felt like writing something. I got the inspiration from The Second Chronicals of Thomas Covenant.
    ______________________________________

    The sun fled like disaster beyond his percipience, casting claws of crimson paranoia across the heavens to the indefinable blackness of his heart. The numb realization violated his mind. Incandescence dripped like the blood from his wrists. The last vestiges of hope compelled him to grope for the talisman, cold and unforgiving against his chest. The iron dream catcher hung like a testament from the chain around his fragile neck. It's weight pulled his weaknesses toward the ground, which any moment should open it's maw and swallow him out of sheer disgust. Yet still he kneeled on the solid granite of the hall. Through the blindness his fingers found the iron, felt it to assure himself of it's presence.
    How?
    Power flared in the deep caverns of his conscious, threatening to escalate his elusive corruption to the scale of gods. Had the hatred of his parents reached so far across the void to claw at his defenceless soul. No, the hatred was already there, had always been there.
    Yet they had given him power.
    In the concussive outrage that had torn his body from the confines of the Universe and Time to drift for eternity in the void, he had learned to hope. Exposure to the void had given him power to act upon his will. Yet the truth appalled him. It was not hope that drove him, it was despair. He was addicted to helplessness.
    And to pain.
    He was not worthy of this world. Compassion and love flooded his percipience like his life upon the unforgiving granite. Power flooded into his veins to replace the blood, his mind became a maelstrom of incandescence and despair as he stood to meet the oppressors.
    Your servitude is absolute.
    Power surged from his being, concealing the stars and severing his mind from his senses. Condemnation and sorrow are the only answers to pain!
    Without his visual omnipotence, the power that erupted from his soul could not be guided. Could not be given any purpose other than inevitable destruction.
    As his despair neared it's climax, cold hatred delved between the stubborn shoulders that upheld his purpose. Passion and loathing surged from the blade that pierced his mortal flesh.
    Abruptly the flame of his will was extinguished and he collapsed like a cripple to the floor.
    The immediate sense that remained to him faded to blackness.
    "there is no hope left for you."


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