What goes on in Andrew's mind?

hours before sunrise

2009-10-23T12:49:00.000-07:00

A drop of wine
so red and fine
down it drops
bearing hopes
feeling no
seeing no
hearing no
evil.

A shade of red
a book unread
somewhat old
and yet untold
the stories in
the tellings in
the wisdom in
a waste.

A feather flies
a crow now dies
plummage black
o'er the shack
so loud a cry
so fine a cry
so young a cry
it's gone.

A cloud of white
a peaceful sight
the morning comes
over the slums
a coming red
a looming red
a tasteful red
so bright.

O'er the world
so much so old
the days that pass
have nights to catch
and hasty so
and surely so
and coming thus
tomorrow.

Synentefksh gia thn ypertath 8esh tou ahdio-malaka twn SCBotched

2009-10-22T17:32:00.001-07:00

shmera ola einai skata. ola omws. ksypnaw to prwi afhnwtntas ena ygro klanhdi, mono kai mono san proeidophoish gia to megalo xezmentin pou 8a exwna meta sthn kahmenh toualeta. me adhsophth orgh eriksa thn anierh katadikh mou (koinws skatoulokourada) sthn krya porselanh, pou an eixe matia 8a dakryze toso apo pono, oso apo th myrwdia, th vrwma kai thn treisodia, kai oso gia tis melw atakes pou akougontan apo apenatni. argotera h mera mou kylhse skata, sxedon oso arga oso mia kourada glystraei sthn trypa enos dyskoiliou kinezou pou exei faei treis merides ryzi. eixate pote thn ais8hsh oti ola sas pane skata? egw thn exw syxna. sthn toualeta. me tsirlipipi. ekei na deis skato pou paei. opws kai na xei, eprepe na exw kapoia kwlo-stoixeia, kapoia apodhksh gia ayth th skatokouradoa8lia mera. gi ayto loipon, to anevasa kai gw san mikro skat-ee... syggnwmh, paidi, sto esysolhnas. kai oriste h klanoskatisia mera mou : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuqyZC2haBI&feature=player_profilepage

Concerning ASD - the Bible of Spam.

2009-09-23T17:03:00.001-07:00

There is one and only one ASD.
Those that doubt the ASD will be ASDed anew.
Those that do not follow the ASD will with no doubt be ASDed.
There is one ASD, one Spamm and one SpASD, and all is one in ASD.
5. Thus spake ASDreus, and thus it should have will often will used to be.
ASD.
Spammoth created the ASD and all that is ASDfull.
Beware of Unholy ASD, thus commandes Spammoth unto the Spammers.
And Lo, all Unholy ASD was ASDed anew.
10.And Lo, all Spammers were now embraced by ASD.
Spammoth laid the secrets of eternal ASD upon the top of mount Lal,
And so the people had hope of ASD.
There is only one true prophet of ASD and his name is Andreus.
Correction, there are two true prophets of ASD. Andreus eated one tho.
15.And Lo, he was pleased.
One day upon spamming and flamming and forwarding, Andreus held a vision
Of Spammoth and his might and his righteous ASD.
Andreus visioned of a Holy Word Aflame, and the Word was Bird.
And Lo, Bird's ye word.
20.Andreus accepted the divine and spammful quest he was given,
And thus Asdended onto ye Holy Mountain of Lal in search of Holy Words
Three,
ASD, Lel, Oooogamamanomalaka.
His journey did last long, and he did eat half the Holy Mountain.
25.Uponeth Ye top of the Holy Mountain of Lal, Spammoth spake unto Andreus.
And Spammoth spake thus:
"ASD."
And Andreus said:
"Que pasa?"
30.And Spammoth spake again:
"In Spamm you are strong.
You shall be my Announcer.
You shall be my Sage.
You shall be my Delilah, some nights,
35.And you shall dress in pretty dresses.
From now on, your name shall be one of power.
And your name shall be ASDreus.
And you shall be my Prophet of ASD.
Speak, and the world will be ASDed.
40.Don't speak, and the world will think you're akshully clever.
You shall spamm.
You shall ASD.
You shall devour massive quantities of food.
You shall teach ASD to the masses.
45.Art there any questioneth?"
ASDreus sat and thunk upon the top of Lal.
He sat there for days and nights three,
Thinking or at least pretending he was thinking.
At the sundrise of the Fourth day, he spake:
50."Will There Be Souvlaki and Burgers?"
And Spammoth Facepalmed.
And the Planets cried with the loudness of his divine,
Epic,
And world shattering Facepalm.
55.And ASDreus doth spake yet again:
"I'll take that as an 'aye'."
Thus it was ASDed, thus it shall be.
And Lo, Spammoth did a *nod*.
And Lo, ASDreus Descended from Lal.
60.And Lo, He teacheth ye worlde of Spamm and ASD and Lel and Oooogamamanomalaka.
Of his greatest disciples were Alexandriniosligoallakati.
ASDreus did not like that name.
And ASDreus spake unto That Guy with Ye long NAme:
"Dude, Thy name shall now on be AlexASDros.
65.I think you Should Bring ASD to where I can not,
Or am too bored to go.
Therefore, you shall be
AlexASDros, Bringer of ASD."
To that, AlexASDros did reply most vividly:
70."*shrug*."
Thus it was asd asd, thus asd asd asd.

(missing pages... we did our best to find the rest of those pages from the Bible of Asdful ASdings, but the work continues in what appears to be a late, apocalyptic prophecy of this world. See below.)

667."Be careful, lest I smite thee!"
To which QuetzASDcoatl replied:
"Your smite is nothing compaired to ASD.
WAtch, gaze upon, Mite-mite, Look,
Asd I shall show you true spam.
101.Pure spamm."
And lo, true spamm it was.
For upon union of ASDreus
Avatar of Spammoth and Prophet of ASD,
AlexASDrus the no-so-gret-akshully,
677.Bringer of ASD and Devourer of Nom,
QuetzASDcoatl the SPammful Seeker,
Manifester of ASD and LoL,
There shall be ASDpocalypse.
There shall be grate catASDtrophies.
683.There shall be LOLcusts.
There shall be ASDful Tides.
There shall be flying LOLruses.
There shall be no Cheezburger.
There shall be no buckit.
688.There shall be PedoBear.
There shall be LOLies.
There shall be no salvation from ASD.
All that was, shall be ASDed.
Nought will stand, for all shall Rofl.
1337.Holy Crapcakes I forgot about the chicken nuggets.
There shall be seas of Beer.
There shall be DAys and nights of no rain, only peeing sky dwarvs.
There shall be only one!
There shall be no encore.
700.There shall be no freebird.
Ever.
And through strange ASD,
Even spamm may be tainted
And all that is holy
705.Shall be ASDed unto distrakshon.

(more pages missing. Also we think that 1337 was added later by someone else than the original author, at some time adter the publication or at least writing of the Bible of Asdful ASDings. The search for the rest continues...)

The 300 Students

2009-09-12T12:27:00.000-07:00

[Enter student, Teachers 1 and 2]
Student: "Show me to the schoolmaster. I bring words from the whole school."
Teacher #1: "I dunno, our schoolmaster is a pretty bored man."
Teacher #2: "And he got a caffeine addiction, student. Could we offer you a Filter coffee?"
Student: "Greek teacher humor. It's in you all. Be afraid, The schools will be filled with bums. Only the word of your schoolmaster can save it.
Teacher #1: "You look a lil' better than all those other gits. Maybe we should tell his majesty the king fatso."
Teacher #2: "Yeah, I suppose we don't want anyone to start throwing molotovs or anything."
[Exit Teachers 1 and 2]

[Enter King Fatso, Schoolmaster]
King Fatso, Schoolmaster: "Experience and Education? You came all the way from Classroom 13 for Experience and Education? Don't be an idiot, don't be stupid. You can't afford neither now that there are private schools everywhere."
Student: "A force of wanna-be communists and wanna-be anarchists has assembled--So few, they cant even keep a
school locked up properly. Their number so little, they could live on a single bottle of water. All the other
students require is a modest offering: Of Experience, and Education. A simple token of the School's
submission to the will of its students and other kid-rodents."
King Fatso, Schoolmaster: "Hm. That's a bit of a problem. Rumour has it the police already took your banner down. And
if those boy-lovers found that kind of nerve... After all we teachers have our little position and jobs in the
state schools to consider. Still I really wanna be rude. If there is a diplomatic way to handle this, you can shove it where
the sun don't shine."
Student: "Choose your next words carefully."
[Exit Student, King Fatso, Schoolmaster]

[Fatso takes the Student in front the school's dark and creepy storage room which smells of over-used athletic shoes]
King Fatso, Schoolmaster: "Of course. Not. It's obvious. The answer's is right in front of me. Which means right at
your back. But don't look. Seriously."
[Fatso raises his Pen Of Detention towards the Student]
"Experience and Education. You'll find both down there. And it won't be pretty, I assure you."
Student: "Madman! You're a madman! And a bully! And a slut! No man-- or woman or blob, I really dunno what you are-- No
man threatens a student!"
[The student looks behind him and stands startled]
"This is blasphemy to the educational system and a million other things I don't have the time to mention because you're gonna kick
me! This is Madness!
King Fatso, Schoolmaster: Madness? THIS! IS! THE GREEK PUBLIC SCHOOL SYSTEEEEM!!
[Fatso kicks the Student and condemns him to an abbys of dirty socks and a lifetime of part-time jobs]
[Exit Fatso]

Dance

2009-09-08T15:41:00.001-07:00

Dance, dance, don't ever stop,
And I shall dance with thee till dead I do drop

For Love be the tune, as we sway on the moon,
My heart, it is beating, so fast and so soon

Be it thy grace, that blesses me so,
Or be it the pace, the one we both know?

Passionate eyes, we walk on the skies,
All else has no meaning, no matter, no size

Thy hands as I hold, years and ages grow old,
Eternal our love, a promise of gold

I love thee, I cry, as our lips draw nigh,
A gentle exchange, a breath and a sigh

For do I not breathe, if thou do so too?
Or am I alive, without thy view?

Clouds are the way, together we stay,
My heart and thee, I shall never betray

Ne'er get down, ne'er a frown,
We will dance up here till morrow come round

I love thee my dear, have you no fear,
Ne'er before happiness has brought me a tear.

And part we shall not, by speech or by rot,
Hands held together, what fate has wrought.

The Glass is a Lie.

2009-09-04T12:44:00.000-07:00

Picture a glass of water, filled to the half. A simple glass, just water in it.
Is the glass half full? Or is it half empty?
Mhm.
So I see.
But what, pray, would happen, if you took the glass of water and threw it on a wall?
Would that not fill this inanimate and dull object into a new, little world of motion,
vigor, meaning, price, danger, flavour, color and flair?
Now can you tell me if the glass is half full or half empty?
Should we try again then?

Picture it. Picture a solid, white concrete wall. Now pictute a glass of water thrown at it, as time slows down to gaze upon it. Picture the glass cracking, slowly, the sound of a star exploding, as continents and seas are born in one moment and are dead in the next. Imagine those cracks, those seas and rivers, breaking, spreading, magnificently twisting and turning towards all directions while the water overflows in a dance of maddening and liquid grace, pulled from all directions while trying to be thrown to all the opposite ones. Picture the glass as it jumps against the wall and divides into those smaller, crystal stars which now fly and spray towards the air and the floor, all in an unthinking, chaotic stratagem of covering as much unexplored aether as every little drop of a solid rainbow can. Picture the water turning into a rain of color and following the shards of glass like children chasing each other, playing tag. Some drops of water meet other shards and embrace, dragged down to the ground faster, while others follow their own paths toward the unknown of the floor. Picture it all. A glistening, foggy cloud of water and glass, staying there for merely a fraction of a moment, hanging in the air like the night stars of a sky. And now time comes back from its frozen state and the cloud crashes into the ground, a small pool of water, momentarily dripping towards the ceiling before gravity applies fully. Waves upon waves of little bits of glass rolling to all directions.
Picture that final, silent, unmoving pool of glass and water.

Is the glass half full or is it half empty?

Thought so.
Good evening.

A matter of opinion

2009-07-21T02:41:00.000-07:00

People have never asked me whether or not I like love songs, ballads, or other similar types, or kinds of music.
Never.
I wonder, does everyone assume you like them? Or do they automatically assume you do not? Or maybe they don't care. I've yet to see a man or woman that has not admitted tears flowing free as a lazy waterfall when they heard or hear a certain song. Or two.
That, of course happens, for reasons that suit best to the subjects.
Ah, correction. People.
A sad song about loss of love appeals to someone who has lost someone they loved. Lost, as in 'someone died', 'someone stopped loving me', 'someone never loved me at all', or 'someone I love never really looked at me'. Of course, that has to do with how the person feels about the more romantic or passionate sides of their life.
A song that is bittersweet and praises the other member of a relationship, an affair or a love bond usually seems befitting in the eyes and heart of of someone who is in love or obsessed with their partner or lover.
A ballad that reminds of the times of old, or maybe the loves of old, is to the ears of someone nostalgic what food is to an empty growling stomach.
Even a person without the aforementioned attributes would appreciate a song that reminded them of their lover or they and their lover's bond, condition, status, or state as a couple or pair.
No one ever asked me whether or not I like love songs. Nor sad love songs. Love songs of anger and bitter spit on the face of betrayal of heart. I never asked them to ask me, I suppose.
I... I like them. But I don't like them.
All those kinds of songs, all this music that is made from lovers to lovers, I have a weird connection to them. I have been the betrayed heart. I have been the abandoner of the heart. I've been the one and only half of one and only half of a heart. I have been certain of a second half of a heart. I have been a full heart. I have been a dissatisfied heart. I have been full yet again. So far, I have not yet inherited the previous titles again, nor do i think, hope, expect, or even dare to imagine me ever doing so from now on. True, time folds hands on the eyes of mysteries, and no one but time can be certain of what is to come, but certainty's roots dig well and establish their base even better.
I've heard representatives of those songs, of those styles, of those emotions. Not few were the times when my throat grew sore, my eyes wet and red, my chest an empty fleshbag of burning loss or a furious engine of passion.
Yes.
I have heard the call many, many times. As many as I have sounded the call myself, I expect.
Should I not feel connected to those songs? Should they hold no meaning for me? Should I not experience their musical magnificence and the liberation tears grant you after the hour? It is not so, I am assured it is not a matter of 'should' or 'must'. It is more of a matter of 'choose to' or 'will or not to'.
The reason for that attitude of mine could be cut down into many many more reasons, smaller, all part of the single, greater one.
I shall pose some questions.
If you love someone, and you know that you truly love them, do you actually need assurance?
Or if you lost someone and feel awful by that state, why do you need to stay in that land of empty sighs?
If you miss someone, should you not practically do something about it, that being forgetting about them, carrying on, or even trying to contact them again?
In all cases, I deem that any accompanying songs to those mental states are unnecessary, if not worsening over the condition, be it initially good or bad or even neutral.
I know many of you would disagree with what I am about to confess.
I do not need a love song that calls my lover a goddess to know that she is one. If I await a song to get me that message, I am lost.
I do not need a song of loss to be my friend, nor a shoulder to cry on, for I have others that care, and I shall find another who cares more. If I bask in the drama of loss, I am lost myself.
I do not need a song to make me feel good or bad about the one I love. It clouds my judgment and affects me and the ways in which I view, feel and perceive the one I love. If I lose the stability of the ways I love, respect and act towards the one I love, I am lost.
Surely, some people would haughtilly argue that they do not need the songs to tell them all those things, that they already know them and that they just like the songs. Of course, the reasons they like them is hidden in all those ' I do not need-'. Also, if they do not need the songs, and it only appeals to their ears, then what I claim is right, and I got you to admit that you do not need all this.
I wonder, Isn't the lack of flavor what makes you want flavor in something?
Flavor, as in Feeling? Substituting for something else?
Songs, as in Feeling of Feelings? Substituting for something else?
Ah.
I choose not to care about any love song. There are few that appeal to me, but I would rather listen to something other than them, actually. If my words are to be trusted, I need no augmentation when it comes to the feelings I hold most dear towards the one love. Nor need I reminders of love, loss, passion, company or any of such states, feelings and matters. I hold my ears to the heart of my beloved. There, there is the sweetest music of the worlds. Strange.. One would think that such honorable and magnificent music would come from many organs, yet this one, single as it is, produces such a wonder.
I am in no way calling you fools. I am in no way trying to convince you that what you do is foul, or that what I do is best and more honest.
I am simply trying to show you another way, one that perhaps might get you someplace farther away from what you have perceived as normal so far, replacing normal with mundane,
I cannot tell you to listen to your hearts. I can tell you to listen to the heart of he or her that bears the heart that you love. It is no command, no wish, no need, no desire that the heart gives you. Yet listen to it if you will, and you shall surely know what to do and what path or road to follow.
Your heart is where your loved one's heart is.
Good evening.

Oneiros

2009-04-07T05:37:00.001-07:00

I have a world.
I also have two eyes, which watch this world.
And in my world everyone dances.
In my world, everyone sings.
In my world, everyone loves, comforts, cares, is glad and hates, rages, opposes, cries and is sad.
In my world, everyone shares.
In my world, everyone understands that time is too short to deny all that they feel and and hide all that they sense.
In my world, no one is afraid of their feelings and no one is afraid of the feelings of everyone else.
In my world, everyone understands that time is running out.
In my world, everyone dies.
And thus I create another one.
And I see to it that it is short-lived as well, like the old one.
Men and women alike, like diamonds, shine the brightest and most beautiful just one moment before their end.
And I make sure it is well understood.
I make my world all over again
And from the beginning, I have a world.

Oneiros - Original

2009-04-07T05:36:00.000-07:00

Έχω ένα κόσμο.
Έχω και δυο μάτια, που βλέπουν αυτόν τον κόσμο.
Και στον κόσμο μου όλοι χορεύουν.
Στον κόσμο μου όλοι τραγουδούν.
Στον κόσμο μου όλοι αγαπούν, συμπονούν, νοιάζονται, χαίρονται και μισούν, οργίζονται, αντιτίθενται, κλαίνε και λυπούνται.
Στον κόσμο μου όλοι μοιράζονται.
Στον κόσμο μου όλοι έχουν καταλάβει ότι ο χρόνος είναι πολύ λίγος για να αρνηθούν όλα όσα νοιώθουν και να κρύψουν όλα όσα αισθάνονται.
Στον κόσμο μου, κανείς δεν φοβάται τα συναισθήματα του και κανείς δεν φοβάται τα συναισθήματα όλων των άλλων.
Στον κόσμο μου, όλοι καταλαβαίνουν ότι ο χρόνος τελειώνει.
Στον κόσμο μου, όλοι πεθαίνουν.
Και ξαναφτιάχνω έναν.
Και φροντίζω να ζήσει κι αυτός λίγο.
Οι άνθρωποι, σαν διαμάντια λάμπουν δυνατότερα και ομορφότερα μια στιγμή πρίν το τέλος τους.
Και φροντίζω να κάνω κατανοητό.
Ξαναφτιάχνω τον κόσμο μου
Και πάλι απο την αρχή, έχω ένα κόσμο.

Ena Tsigaro Xronos

2009-03-17T10:04:00.001-07:00

This is a translation of 'A Cig's Time'

Λεπτός λιγερός καπνός, αργογυρύζει και χορεύει στον αιθέρα, καθισμένο στο νεκροκρέβατό του, κάθε δευτερόλεπτο τραβώντας το προς τον τελικό του προορισμό, χους εις χουν..
Και ένα κουρασμένο χέρι το δέχεται, και χείλη στεγνά από χαρά το εναγκαλιάζουν, και για άλλη μια φορά έλκεται αχόρταγα προς το τέλος του.
Μια τούφα καπνού αναβλύζει απο εκείνα, τα ίδια χείλη, κουβαλώντας μαζί της την θλίψη και την μοναξιά τους, τρεφόμενη αργό θάνατο, ελεύθερη στον αγέροχο χορό της απο σχήματα και όνειρα, εμφανίσεις από πρόσωπα του παρελθόντος, φαντάσματα, αναμνήσεις απο καιρους καλούς και κακούς, ασημένιος καπνός αναδεύεται προς το γεμάτο υγρασία ταβάνι, και ο νούς γνωρίζει ότι δεν υπάρχει διαφυγή.
Το τσιγάρο καθώς αργοπεθαίνει τοποθετείται ξανά επάνω στο βάθρο του, και τώρα ενα δάκρυ το ακολουθεί, υγραίνοντας τις στάχτες και δημιουργώντας λάσπη γκρί και μαύρη.
Τα χείλη δεν μπορούν να κλείσουν, τα χέρια δεν μπορούν να αφήσουν το κεφάλι αστήριχτο, το στήθος δεν μπορεί και δεν πρόκειται να σταματήσει να φουσκώνει και να ξαναπέφτει, κλαίγοντας και σπαράζοντας, αφήνοντας βογκητά και αναστεναγμούς να βγούν απο μέσα του.
Και έτσι πεθαίνει, αφήνοντας την τελευταία λεπτή οπτασία καπνού, το πρόσωπο μιας γυναίκας που χαμογελάει προς τα μάτια που τώρα δακρύζουν.

E Viva

2009-03-13T05:15:00.000-07:00

Μετάφραση του Cheers.

Ένα τανγκό ξεδιπλώνει τα μουσικά του χάδια στο δωματιο.
Ένας άνδρας χορεύει μοναχός, το δωμάτιο ειναι το παλάτι του.
Χορευέι, τόσο χαρούμενος, ενα χαμόγελο φαίνεται να ειναι χαραγμένο στα χείλη του.
Δεν υπάρχει άλλη ψυχή στο δωμάτιο αυτό, που είναι επίσης άδειο απο έπιπλα.
Αριστερά και δεξιά, εδώ κι εκεί, πάντοτε χορεύοντας, πάντοτε χαμογελώντας.
Τα χέρια του κρατούν το φάντασμα του πάθους του, την Μούσα του.
Δεν είναι εκεί, κι όμως είναι το μοναδικό πρόσωπο για κείνον.
Την κοιτά στα μάτια και μόνο. Χαμογελώντας. Χορεύοντας. Παίρνοντάς την μαζί του.
Αργά, παθιασμένα, και μετα γρηγορότερα, γρηγορότερα, με χάρη.
Η μουσική δεν έχει πηγή, δεν έχει ορχήστρα, είναι ζωντανή, μόνο σ'αυτό το δωμάτιο.
Μόνο σ'αυτό το δωμάτιο, μόνο αυτός ο άνδρας και η μούσα του, φαντάσματα της καρδιάς του.
Και τότε η μουσική σταματά, την κοιτάζει και γέρνει μπροστά να αφήσει το πιο απαλό φιλί στα γεμάτα, ροδαλά και φασματικά χείλη της, και κείνη δεν μπορεί και δεν τολμά να διαφωνήσει.
Την παίρνει απο το χέρι, οδεύοντας προς το μπουφέ της ψυχής του.
Υπάρχουν μόνο ενα μπουκάλι κρασί και δύο λεπτά ποτήρια.
Ανοίγει το μπουκάλι.
Ο καρπός του σκιζεται.
Εκείνη χαμογελά με χάρη.
Της γεμίζει το ποτηρι με κρασι.
Το πάτωμα ειναι βαθυκόκκινο με το αίμα της ζωής του.
Γεμίζει το δικό του ποτήρι με κρασί.
Το ποτήρι είναι γεμάτο με το ίδιο του το αίμα.
Υψώνει το ποτήρι.
Το γυμνό του χέρι έχει το χρώμα καυτής, κόκκινης στάχτης.
'Μία πρόποση!', αναφωνεί.
Εκείνη ανασηκώνει το ενα της φρύδι, ακόμα χαμογελώντας.
'Στον έρωτα.' και κείνος χαμογελάει.
Εκεινη του γνέφει καταφατικά.
Πίνει απο το ποτήρι του.
Πίνει απο το αίμα του.
Και έτσι το κοινό ζητοκραυγάζει και χειροκροτά, φαντάσματα και εικόνες, όλοι βαμμένοι κατακόκκινοι απο το αίμα του άνδρα, στοιχειά αυτής της μαγεμένης νύχτας.
Σηκώνουν τα ποτήρια τους και έτσι ο χορός λαμβάνει τέλος.

Cheers

2009-01-07T13:26:00.001-08:00

A tango is unfolding its musical caresses in the room.
A man is dancing alone, the room is his very own palace.
He dances, ever so joyful, a smile appears to be carved on his lips.
There is not another soul in this room, also devoid of furniture.
Left and right, here and there, ever dancing, ever smiling.
His hands are grasping the phantom of his passion, his Muse.
She is not there, yet she is the only person for him.
He looks in her eyes only. Smiling. Dancing. Taking her with him.
Slowly, passionate, then faster, faster, elegantly.
The music has no source, no orchestra, it is alive, only in this room.
Only in this room, only this man and his muse, ghosts of his heart.
And then the music stops, he looks at her and leans forward to place the softest of his kisses on her plump, vivid red and spectral lips, and she cannot and will not dare disagree.
He takes her by the hand, walks toward the buffet of his soul.
There is only one bottle of wine and two tall glasses.
His smile always on his lips, he hands her one of the glasses.
He opens the bottle.
His wrist is slit.
She smiles with grace.
He pours some wine into her glass.
The floor is now crimson with his life.
He pours some into his own glass.
The glass is filled with his blood.
He raises the glass.
His bare hand is the color of red got ashes.
"A toast!", he announces.
She raises an eyebrow, still smiling.
"To love.". He is smiling also.
She nods.
He drinks out of his own glass.
He drinks of his own blood.
And thus the audience applauds, ghosts and images, all drenched in red life, Haunts of this enchanted night.
They raise their glasses and so the ball ends.

The First Call

2008-11-23T13:15:00.001-08:00

Since i heard the voice, since i heard the first call, i haven't been able to think of anything else. Since that night that the lightning struck and filled everything with light, along with my eyes. But it was no normal lightning. It was... Something more. It didn't last that consecrated fraction of a second. It blined me, even if i never looked at it with my own eyes. It deafened me, even if no sound was heard by it.
And then I heard the first voice, the first calling. A sound, a word, a dissorientation, a song of terror, a mixture of notes and twisted melodies from an orchestra of screams. It lasted a second or a century. I haven't been able to understand, nor will i ever be. Time had no essence, no importance.
From the screaming, from the otherworldly sounds and not from somewhere in space, for there was no space as well that moment, that millenium, one more speech tangled in the sound, an abyssal voice, so eldritch, so ancient, so booming and horrible, that it made the whole dissonance that spawned it sensible, it made it melodic in a strange way.
And from the voice came the first Elder. The first giant, the first form, the first indescribable interlacement of limbs, feet, gils, tentacles, wings, limbs phenomenicaly made of flesh and ooze, and no characteristic that the human mind could recognise in its entirety. In size, that ancient creature that was there since the begining of everything, before the stars ever saw their first dawn, the horizon could not hold it and it never would. Every scar, every scab, every crater and crack on it could be seen with every daunting detail. Its eyes were the sun and the moon and all the stars, glowing with a light that exceeded fantasy, red as the first drop of blood that ever fell.
The truth is that it did not need a voice. Its presence was enough to drive you mad or enlighten you, showing you the deepest, darkest places of the human mind, where fear is born and hope dies.
I felt it pointing at me, recognising my being, making sure that my small mind could bear him, even in that demeaning and small version of his eternal presence of his in the universe.
It was looking at me. From the start, it was looking at me, all of me. And along with me, everything. It's point of focus was the existance of everything itself. Its eyes were drawing near, and if one thought of his size and the space it consumed, one couldn't help but remain speechless from terror and excitement from its speed, even though in front of such a sight, you couldn't do elsly from the very begining.
I was staring as well, unable to do anything else. I noticed that the sounds and the screaming were gone. Its voice, its breath or its thought have taken the place of the cosmic silence, in the same way that horns and car engines become part of the background, back in normal life.
All I could do was watch. And after some breaths or some lifetimes, what i was seeing was the outter space. Stars, rocks, no point of reference whatsoever. No familiar planet or even a sign of one. And suddenly everything obtained movement, everything consecrated their orbits and and tracks, those which they woould hold for years thousands of thousands, millions of millions. From where my vision couldn't reach, the creature appeared, smaller by far, moving towards somewhere in front of me. Observing it for a while, i realised it wasn't the same with the one that appeared before me at first. The one i saw then was younger, closer to its first eras. The fact that later there appeared more of those terrifying creatyres, each one uniquely more horrible than the other one, helped me assure of my suspicions. Creatures ancient, older than darkness, and every one of them moving towards the same spot.
Without moving in this endless abundance of space, i followed them. I was an observer by that time. Of what though, i did not know yet. And since i had gone so far, as much as i wished i knew nothing, as much as i wished nothing happened, that it was all a dream, i knew it was all true. So much so, that they surpassed the truth itself.
From this limitless black i followed them, passing by some deserted and unknown planets over time, bathing in the light of a squadron of suns from other galaxies, far away. That journey must have lasted long, even for those Ancients, yet none would say a word., or at least i didn't have what it took to hear them or behold their words, heavy as newborn galaxies.
Until the One, he who had summoned me, let out a gutual and bile voice, and everyone stopped. Me as well.
I looked around me, and a horrid feeling of recognition took hold of me. I saw the Moon. Our Moon. It took some time for me to realise because it didn't have one crater on it, but what i was looking at was definitely the moon. That meant that... I looked elsewhere. Jupiter, small. Saturn, without its planet rings. Mars, with some blue specks on it. I didn't want to see where they were heading. Because i knew. Yes, inside my i knew it well, that which seemed impossible for me. And I looked.
And i saw Earth.
And the creatures cut something from one another, making disgusting sounds of ripping flesh and and membrane. These pieces they threw at the Earth, an Earth with more land than water. And in my thoughts i suddenly knew the pieces were seeds. They wanted to plant their kind in Earth. To grow, to flourish, to control, to enslave and in the end devour.
Witnessing all this, terror was eating me away on the inside like a bore-worm. The top of all this horror was when He, the First One turned to look at me. And he showed me, not by some move but with just a thought, to observe closer and see the creation and at the same time the malediction of a world. And then..
Eearth. Plants, trees. No sound and no sound of one nowhere. Comets were falling from the sky. One of them fell in front of me, throwing fire, spew and tissue everywhere, but i was left untouched in that macabre vision of the past. The seasons changed in a breath, leaving the seed to grow, untill it hatched, and from inside it came one of them, lurking with its rotten limbs, followed by other, smaller spawns. But that fact had no importance then, nor did it carry a feeling of comfort or hope. On the contrary, it ominously foretold the dark fate of this world.
Time passed and Their species flourished. Slowly, man appeared, unsure and small in his first steps on Earth, which was to become a huge chessboard of the Ancients, with humans, their slaves as pawns.
Oh, with what guile, with what zelousy and tyrrany they reigned, they, the Elder ones, older than the darkness itself, with what presicion they weaved their cosmic plans and plots without a sign of mercy, goodness or weakness..
Suddenly, something changed. Like a tiny cog in a hyper-galactic machine that stopped working as it should, as it was written, because it obtained consciousness. Knowledge. Anger.
Freedom.
And I was in space again, gazing at that fouled planet. Earth was changing. The ground at first, and then the oceans. The planet was being painted red, the oceans were becoming giant lakes of blood of both human and Elder. And as that red sea drowned the land, I realized why at first i thought that the Earth had less water than it should have, and why as i observed the planet was becoming identical to what it is today.. My god, we're swimming in the blood of our ancestors and theirs as well...
War. The first one, the biggest of them all, the most macabre, the one that brought drastic changes. And from what i could grasp, it must have lasted for whole generations. The most terrifyinf thing was that humanity was losing.
Until they decided that they didn't want to wipe us out, not for any other reason, not of mercy, but because we were convenient to them as slaves, as food. As toys. The Ancients were leaving. They decided to let us multiply,. like the animals we were. They left behind someone to watch us, while he slumbered deep, in the bottom of the darkest ocean, in the ruins of their drowned city.
Their city had a name that could not be pronounced by a mouth other than theirs, bun on its first stone They wrote its name in a language and writing that was the escape of mankind from its beastly cries and growls. And the city's name was decyphered many aeons later, as much as it was possible. Its name was R'Lye. The Sunken City.
And the one They left there, the one that slumbers deep and dreams, mankind also learned his name, along with the fear of pronouncing it, lest he heart the call from the darkest depths of the sea and awaken, bringing with him madness, horror and anihilation. His name would forever remain in the unconscious of the mind: Cthulhu.
Still lost in that revelation, i was again in front of the Ancient that summoned me. In front of this entanglement of dead but moving tentacles where other animals had their mouths. Faced with these eyes that saw everything. That still heard the echoes of the first dead stars. And then I heard his voice in a language i could comprehend, for the first time.
I AM AWAKE.
MY ARRIVAL IS NIGH.
I had never imagined that two sentences could ever invoke so much fear, so much awe and horror.
Cthulhu had awoken. And i had heard his voice, the first call. I saw the world being made, and now i had to watch its doom.
Suddenly, i felt that light of the vision blurring. The eternal lightning that led me to all of this was fading. I was afraid to go back. I was afraid to do anything in a world that is already dead and doesn't even know it.
And then, i submerged in deep sleep.

-Epilogue-

I open my eyes and am forced to shit them again due to the sudden and strong change of light. When i open them once more, i observe my surroundings, losing any sense of direction or place.
I am inside a white room. There are no windows, only a door. The walls are covered in what appears to be white pillows. A plain and simple lamp hangs from the ceiling.
What the hell...
I try to move my hands, make sure i'm alright. But i cant. My hands are tied. With a mixture of surprise and agony i look at my chest, which is tied as well. A white shroud.
My god, i'm in a sanitarium.. And i have no idea as to how or when i got here..
I desperately fight to free myself from my bounds, but to no avail. When i give up, i hear a male voice from some nearby room. At first i cant make out what he's saying, until a woman starts to repeat the phrase he said. More and more voices join this chant, for that's what it comes to. And when it reaches its top, when everyone is chanting rhythmically at the top of their lungs, the phrase becomes understandable to me as well.
IA.
IA.
CTHULHU F'TAGHN.
Again and again. The summoning of Cthulhu. Which not only means that they know he's awake, but that these men are becoming heralds of his coming.
I get up and run to the door. I begin hitting it with my feet and head. I am taken over by a burning rage and i start shouting and spitting at those who so unjustly locked me in here.
Fools! Ignorant idiots! How can you not hear it? How can you be so blind?! The whole world will be lost because of your foolishness! Cthulhu has awaken and destruction follows him! Die! We're all gonna die! Hahahaha!
I laugh. I laugh and I cry at the same time. And all the time, I keep hearing this world's requiem.
IA.
IA.
CTHULHU F'TAGHN.

-The End-

to prwto kalesma

2008-11-23T13:14:00.000-08:00

Απο τοτε που ακουσα τη φωνη, απο τοτε που ακουσα το πρωτο καλεσμα, δεν μπορω να σκεφτω τιποτα αλλο. Απο 'κεινο το βραδυ που η αστραπη ελουσε τα ματια μου, οχι ομως μια κανονικη αστραπη.. Ηταν.. Κατι παραπανω. Δεν κρατησε το καθιερωμενο κλασμα του δευτερολεπτου. Με τυφλωσε. Κι ας μην την κοιταξα με τα δικα μου ματια. Με κουφανε, κι ας μην ακουστηκε κανενας ηχος απο κεινη τη λαμψη.
Και τοτε ακουσα τη πρωτη φωνη, το πρωτο καλεσμα. Ενας ηχος, μια λεξη, μια φρικη, ενα τραγουδι τρομου, συνοθηλευμα νοτων και διεστραμενων μελοδιων απο μια ορχηστρα με μοναδικα τις οργανα κραυγες. Κρατησε ενα δευτερολεπτο ή ενα αιωνα. Ουτε μπορεσα ουτε μπορω να καταλαβω. Ο χρονος δεν ειχε καμια υποσταση, καμια σημασια.
Απο τις κραυγες, απο τους αλλοκοσμους ηχους και οχι απο καπου στο χωρο, γιατι ουτε χωρος υπηρχε εκεινη τη στιγμη, εκεινη τη χιλιετια, ενας ακομα λογοσ μπλεχτηκε στον ηχο, μια αβυσσαλεα φωνη, τοσο αρχαιγωνη, τοσο βροντερη και φρικιαστικη, που εκανε την παραφωνια που την ξεβρασε να βγαζει καποιο νογμα, να αποκταει μελωδια.
Και απο τη φωνη προβαλε ο πρωτος Παλαιος. Ο πρωτος γιγαντας, η πρωτη μορφη, το πρωτο αποκοσμο συμπλεγμα μελων, ποδια, βραγχια, πλοκαμια, φτερα, μελη φαινομενικα απο σαρκα και γλιτσα και κανενα χαρακτηριστικο που να μπορει να αναγνωρισει ο ανθρωπινος νους στην ολοτητα του. Στο μεγεθος, το αρχαιο αυτο πλασμα το οποιο βρισκοταν εκει απο την αρχη των παντων, πριν ακομα τα αστερια να δουν την πρωτη τους αυγη, ο οριζοντας δεν το χωρουσε κι ουτε ποτε θα μπορουσε. Καθε ουλη, καθε χαρακια, καθε κρατηρας και ρωγμη πανω του φαινοταν με αποκαρδιοτικα μεγαλη λεπτομερεια. Τα ματια του ηταν ο ηλιος και το φεγγαρι κι ολα τα αστρα, μ'ενα φως που ξεπερνουσε τη φαντασια, κοκκινο σαν τη πρωτη σταγωνα αιματος που επεσε ποτε.
Η αληθεια ειναι πως δεν χρειαζοταν φωνη. Η παρουσια του ηταν αρκετη για να σε τρελανει 'η να σε διαφωτησει, δειχνωντας σου τα πιο βαθια και σκοτεινα μερη του ανθρωπινου μυαλου, εκει που γεννιουνται ο φοβος και ο τρομος και η ελπιδα πεθαινει.
Ενιωσα να με δειχνει. Να αναγνωριζει την παρουσια μου, να σιγουρευεται οτι ο μικρος νους μου μπορουσε να τον αντεξει, εστω και σε αυτην την ατιμοτικη γι αυτον μικρογραφια τησ ααιναης και ανυποτης παρουσιας του στο συμπαν.
Με κοιταζε. Απο την αρχη με κοιταζε, ολον. Και μαζι με μενα τα παντα. Το σημειο εστιασης του ηταν η υπαρξη η ιδια. Τα ματια του με πλησιαζαν, κι αν σκεφτει κανεις το μεγεθοσ και το χωρο που καταλαμβανε δεν θα μπορουσε παρα να μεινει αφωνος απο τρομο και ενθουσιασμο απο την ταχυτητα του, αν και μπροστα σε ενα τετοιο θεαμα απο την αρχη δεν μπορουσες να κανεις αλλιως.
Κοιταζα και γω, ανημπορος να κανω διαφορετικα. Παρατηρησα οτι οι ηχοι και οι φωνες ειχαν τελειωσει. Η φωνη, η ανασα ή οι σκεψεις του ειχαν παρει τη θεση της κοσμικης ησυχειας, με τον ιδιο τροπο που οι κορνες και οι μηχανες των αυτοκινητων γινονται μερος των καθημερινων ηχων, πισω στη φυσιολογικη ζωη.
Μονο να κοιταζω μπορουσα. Και μετα απο λιγες ανασες ή λιγες ζωες, αυτο που εβλεπα ηταν το διαστημα. Αστερια και βραχια, χωρις κανενα σημειο αναφορας. Κανενας γνωστος πλανητης ή εστω καποιο ιχνος του. Και ξαφνικα ολα απεκτησαν κινηση, ολα καθιερωσαν τις περιστροφες και τις πορειες τους, αυτες που θα κρατουσαν για χρονια χιλιαδες χιλιαδων, εκατομοιρια εκατομοιριων. Απο κει που δεν εφτανε η οραση μου, εμφανιστηκε το πλασμα, μικροτερο ξατα πολυ, κατευθηνομενο προς τα καπου μπροστα. Παρατηροντας το λιγο, καταλαβα οτι δεν ειναι το ιδιο με αυτο που εμφανιστηκε μπροστα μου στην αρχη. Αυτο που εβλεπα εκεινη τη στιγμη ηταν πιο νεο, πιο πολυ κοντα στις πρωτες του εποχες. Το οτι μετα εμφανιστηκαν κι αλλα απο αυτα τα τρομερα οντα, το καθενα μοναδικα πιο φρικιαστικο απο το αλλο, με βοηθησε να σιγουρεψω τισ υποψιες μου. Πλασματα αρχαια, πιο παλια κι απ το σκοταδι, και ολα κατευθηνονταν προς το ιδιο σημειο.
Χωρις να κινηθω σ'αυτην την αχανη και ατελειωτη απλα, τους ακολου8ησα. Ημουν πλεον παρατηρητης. Σε τι ομως δεν το γνωριζα ακομα. Και αφου ειχα φτασει ως, οσο κι αν ευχομουν να μην ηξερα τιποτα, να μην ειχε γινει τιποτα, να ηταν ολα ενα ονειρο, ηξερα οτι ολα αυτα ηταν αληθινα. Τοσο, που ξεπερνουσαν και την ιδια την αληθεια.
Απο αυτο το ατελειωτο μαυρο τους ακολουθουσα, περνοντας καθε τοσο διπλα απο καποιο ερημο και αγνωστο πλανητη, λουσμενος απο το φως ενος λοχου απο ηλιους αλλων γαλαξιων, περα μακρια. Αυτο το ταξιδι πρεπει να κρατησε πολυ, ακομα και γι αυτους τους Παλαιους, ομως κανεις δεν εβγαζε μιλια, ή τουλαχιστον εγς δεν ειχα οτι χρειαζοταν για να τους ακουσω ή να συγκρατησω τα λογια τους, βαρια οσο νεογεννητοι γαλαξιες.
Μεχρι που ο Ενας, αυτος που ηρθε να με βρει, εβγαλε μια κολλοδη και χολερη φωνη και ολοι σταματησαν. Μαζι και γω.
Κοιταξσα γυρω μου, και ενα φριχτο αισθημα αναγνωρισησ με κατελυσε. Ειδα τη Σεληνη. Τη δικη μας Σεληνη. Αργησα λιγο να το καταλαβω γιατι ακομα δεν ειχε ουτε ενα κρατηρα, αλλα αυτο που κοιταζα ηταν πραγματι το φεγγαρι. Πραγμα που σημαινε οτι.. Κοιταξα κι αλλου. Ο Διας, μικρος. Ο Κρονος, χωρις τα αστρικα δαχτυλιδια του. Ο Αρης, με μερικες μπλε πινελιες. Δεν ηθελα να δω που πηγεναν εκεινοι. Γιατι ηξερα. Ναι, μεσα μου το ηξερα καλα, αυτο που μου φαινοταν απιστευτο. Και κοιταξα.
Και ειδα τη Γη.
Και τα πλασματα εκοψαν κατι το ενα απο το αλλο, αφηνοντας απαισιους ηχους σκισηματοσ σαρκας και μεμβρανης. Αυτα τα κομματια τα πεταξαν στη Γη, σε μια Γη με περισσοτερο εδαφος παρα νερο. Και μεσα στις σκεψεις μου ξαφνικα ηξερα οτι τα κομματια ηταν σποροι. Εκεινοι ηθελαν να φυτεψουν το ειδος τους στη Γη. Να μεγαλωσουν, να ευημερισουν, να ελεγξουν, να σκλαβωσουν και στο τελος να καταβροχθησουν.
Μπροστα σ'ολα αυτα, ο τρομος με ετρωγε μεσα μου σα σαρακι. Η κορυφψση ολης αυτησ της φρικης ηταν οταν γυρισε να με κοιταξει Εκεινος, ο Πρωτος. Και μου εδειξε, οχι με καποια κινηση αλλα με μια του σκεψη, να κοιταξω πιο προσεκτικα και να δω τη δημιουργια και συναμα την καταρα της καταστροφης ενος κοσμου. Και τοτε..
Γη, βλαστηση, δεντρα. Κανενα ζωο και κανενας ηχος απο καποιο που8ενα. Απο πανω επεφταν κομητες. Ενας επεσε μπροστα μου, πετωντας παντου φωτια, βλεννα και ιστο αλλα εγω εμεινα ανεπαφος σ'αυτο το μακαβριο οραμα του παρελθοντος. Οι εποχες αλλαζαν με μια ανασα, αφηνοντας το σπορο να μεγαλωσει, μεχρι ποθ απο μεσα του βγηκε ενας απο εκεινους, ερποντας με τα σαπια μελη του, ακολου8ουμενος απο αλλα, μικροτερα νεογνα. Ομως το μεγεθος του δεν ειχε καμια σημασια τοτε, ουτε εφερνε καποιο συναισθημα παρηγοριας ή ελπιδας. Αντιθετα, δυσοιωνα προμηνυε τη σκοτεινη μοιρα αυτου του κοσμου.
Ο χρονος προχορουσε και η φυλη Τους ευδοκιμουσε. Σιγα-σιγα εμφανιστηκε και ο ανθρωπος, αβεβαιος και μικρος στα πρωτα του βηματα στη Γη, που εμελε να γινει μια πελορια σκακιερα των Παλαιων πλασματων με πιονια τους σκλαβους τους, τους ανθρωπους.
Ω, με τι δολο, με τι ζηλο και τυραννια βασιλευαν, εκεινοι, οι γηραιοτεροι του σκοταδιου του ιδιου, με τι ακριβεια υφαιναν τα κοσμικα τους σχεδια χωρις κανενα οικτο και κανενα σημαδι καλοσυνης ή αδυναμιας.
Και ξαφνικα, κατι αλλαξε. Σαν ενα μικρο γραναζι σε μια υπεργαλαξιακη μηχανη που σταματησε να λειτουργει οπως επρεπε, οπως ηταν γραφτο, γιατι απεκτησε συνειδηση. Γνωση. Θυμο.
Ελευ8ερια.
Και βρεθηκα παλι στο διαστημα, να κοιταζω το μιασμενο αυτο πλανητη. Η Γη αλλαζε. Το εδαφος πρωτα και υστερα οι ωκεανοι. Η υδρογειος βαφοταν κοκκινη, οι ωκεανοι γινονταν τεραστιες λιμνες απο αιμα ανθρωπων και Παλαιων. Και καθως η θαλασσα αυτη η κοκκινη επνιγε τη στερια, καταλαβα γιατι στην αρχη μου φανηκε οτι η Γη ειχε λιγοτερο νερο απ' οτι επρεπε, και γιατι καθως παρακολουθουσα ο πλανητης γινοταν πανομοιοτυπος με το σημερινο.. Θεε μου, κολυμπαμε στο αιμα των προγονων μας και των δικων τους μαζι...
Πολεμος. Ο πρωτος, ο μεγαλυτερος ολων, ο πιο μακαβριος, αυτος που εφερε ριζικες αλλαγες. Και απ' οτι μπορουσα να καταλαβω, πρεπει να κρατησε γενιες ολοκρηρες. Το πιο τρομερο και φρικιαστικο συναμα ηταν οτι η ανθρωποτητα εχανε.
Μεχρι που εκεινοι αποφασισαν οτι δεν ηθελαν να μας εξαλειψουν, οχι για καποιο αλλο λογο, οχι απο ελεος, αλλα επειδη τους ημασταν βολικοι σαν σκλαβοι, σαν τροφη. Σαν παιχνιδια. Οι Παλαιοι εφυγαν. Αποφασισαν να μας αφησουν να πολλαπλασιαστουμε, σαν τα ζωα που ημασταν. Αφησαν πισω τους καποιον να μας προσεχει, οσο θα κοιμοταν βαθια, στον πατο του πιο σκοτεινου ωκεανου, στα ερειπια τησ πνιγμενης τους πολης.
Η πολη τους ειχε ενα ονομα που δεν μπορουσε να προφερθει απο στομα διαφορετικο απο το δικο τους, μα πανω στον πρωτο της λιθο γραψανε Εκεινοι τ'ονομα της σε μια γλωσσα και γραφη δικη τους, που ηταν η εξοδος του ανθρωπου απο τις ζωοδεις κραυγες και τα μουγκρητα του. Και το ονομα της πολης πολλους αιωνες μετα μπορεσε να μεταφραστει, οσο ηταν δυνατο. Την ειπαν Ρ'Λυε. Η Βυθισμενη πολη.
Και εκεινος που αφησαν εκει, εκεινος που απο τοτε κοιμαται κι ονειρευεται, η ανθρωποτητα εμαθε κι αυτου το ονομα, οπως και τον τρομο του να το προφερουν, μηπως ακουσει το καλεσμα και απο τα σκοτεινοτερα βαθη της θαλασσας ξυπνησει και φερει στο διαβα του τρελα, τρομο και ολεθρο. Το ονομα του θα παρεμενε παντοτινα στο ασυνειδητο του νου: Κθουλου.
Ακομα χαμενος σ'αυτην την αποκαλυψη, βρισκομουν και παλι ενοποιων του Αρχαιου που με καλεσε. Ενοπιων αυτου του φρικαλεου συμπλεγματος απο νεκρα αλλα κινουμενα πλοκαμια εκει που τα υπολοιπα ζωα εχουν το στομα τους. Μπροστα στα ματια που βλεπουν τα παντα. Που ακουν ακομα τους αποηχους των προτων νεκρων αστεριων. Και τοτε ακουσα για πρωτη φορα τη φωνη του σε μια γλωσσα που μπορουσα να κατανοησω.
ΞΥΠΝΗΣΑ.
ΕΡΧΟΜΑΙ.
Δυο λεξεις. Απλες, καθημερινες. Ποτε δεν ειχα φανταστει οτι θα μπορουσαν να προκαλεσουν τοσο τρομο, τετοια ανατριχιλα και δεος.
Ο Κθουλου ειχε ξυπνησει. Κι εγω ειχα ακουσει τη φωνη του, το πρωτο καλεσμα. Ειδα τον κοσμο να φτιαχνεται, τωρα θα επρεπε να παρακολουθησω την καταδικη του.
Ξαφνικα, ενοιωσα εκεινη τη λαμψη του οραματος να σβηνει. Η αιωνια αστραπη που με οδηγησε σε ολα αυτα ξεθοριαζε. Φοβομουν να γυρισω πισω. Φοβομουν να κανω οτιδηποτε σε ενα κοσμο που ειναι ηδη νεκρος και ουτε καν το ξερει.
Και τοτε, βυθιστηκα σε βαθη υπνο.

-Επιλογος-

Ανοιγω τα ματια μου και αναγκαζομαι να τα ξανακλεισω αποτομα λογω της εντονης διαφορας φωτος. Οταν τα ανοιγω αλλη μια φορα, παρατηρω το περιβαλλον μου χανοντας καθε αισθηση προσανατολισμου.
Βρισκομαι σε ενα λευκο δωματιο. Δεν υπαρχει κανενα παραθυρο, μονο μια πορτα. οι τοιχοι ειναι καλυμενοι με κατι που φαινεται σαν λευκα μαξιλαρια. Απο το ταβανι κρεμεται μια λαμπα, απλη και σκετη.
Τι διαολο..
Προσπαθω να κουνησω τα χερια μου, να σιγουρευτω οτι ειμαι καλα. Ομως δεν γινεται. Τα χερια μου ειναι δεμενα. Με ενα μιγμα εκπληξης και τρομου κοιταω το θωρακα μου. Δεμενος κι αυτος, με σαββανο λευκο.
Θεε μου, ειμαι κλεισμενος σε τρελοκομειο... Και δεν εχψ ιδεα πως ή ποτε βρεθηκα εδω...
Παλευω απελπισμενα να ξεφυγω απο τα δεσμα μου, αλλα ματαια. Οταν παραδινομαι, ακουω μια αντρικη φωνη απο καποιο κοντινο 8αλαμο. Στην Αρχη δεν καταλαβαινω τι λεει, μεχρι που μια γυναικα αρχιζει κι αυτη να επαναλαμβανει τη φραση που εκεινος ειπε. Ολο και πιο πολλες φωνες μπαινουν σ'αυτην τη ψαλμωδια, γιατι σ'αυτο καταληγει. Και οταν φτανει στο αποκορυφωμα του, οταν ολοι ψελνουν ρυθμικα με την πιο δυνατη τους φωνη, η φραση γινεται κατανοητη και σε μενα.
ΙΑ.
ΙΑ.
ΚΘΟΥΛΟΥ Φ'Τ'ΑΓΚΝ.
Και ξανα και ξανα. Η επικληση του Κθουλου. Που σημαινει οτι οχι μονο ξερουν οτι ξυπνησε, αλλα οτι αυτοι οι ανθρωποι γινονται τελαληδες του ερχομου του.
Σηκωνομαι και τρεχω στην πορτα. Αρχιζω να τη χτυπαω με τα ποδια και το κεφαλι μου. Με κατακλυζει μια φλεγομενη οργη και αρχιζω να φωναζω και να φτυνω για να μ'ακουσουν αυτοι που τοσο αδικα με κλειδωσαν εδω μεσα.
Ανοητοι! Αγνομωνες ηλιθιοι! Πως γινεται να μην το ακουτε; Πως γινεται να ειστε τοσο τυφλοι;! Ολος ο κοσμος θα χαθει λογω της ανοησιας σας! ο Κθουλου ξυπνησε και η καταστροφη τον ακολουθει! Να πεθανετε! Θα πεθανουμε ολοι! Χαχαχαχα!
Γελαω. Γελαω και κλαιω ταυτοχρονα. Και συνεχεια, ακουο το κυκνειο ασμα αυτου του κοσμου.
ΙΑ.
ΙΑ.
ΚΘΟΥΛΟΥ Φ'Τ'ΑΓΚΝ.

-Τελος-

Περί της όψης των πραγμάτων

2008-11-22T09:40:00.001-08:00

Ακούω από τότε που ήμουν μικρός, να λένε συνέχεια πως 'τα πράγματα δεν είναι όπως φαίνονται', ή πως 'ό,τι λάμπει δεν είναι χρυσός'.
Για να πώ την αλήθεια, το δεύτερο δεν είναι και λάθος, άλλα αν σκευτεί κανείς το πρώτο, ότι τα πράγματα δεν είναι όπως φαίνονται, αν κάποιος το ξανασκεφτόταν, θα έφτανε ίσως στο συμπέρασμα πως, ίσως αυτοί που δεν μπορούν να δούν είμαστε εμείς οι ίδιοι. Δεν είναι, δηλαδή, ότι το υποκείμενο κρύβει τη φύση του πίσω από πέπλα ψεμμάτων, ψέφτικων χαμόγελων και μπλόφας.
Ας αναλογιστούμε λίγο την κατάσταση κρατώντας ένα αρκετά απλό παράδειγμα κατά νού:
Έστω ένας άνδρας, ο οποίος έχει προβλήματα όρασης. Και καθώς διαβαίνει το μονοπάτι του, βρίσκει εμπρός του μια πανέμορφη γυναίκα, την οποία, φυσικά, θέλει να ακολουθήσει. Τώρα, δεν μπορεί να το κάνει αυτό εύκολα καθώς δεν μπορεί να δεί καθαρά το τί βρίσκεται μπροστά του. Υπάρχουν τρόποι να βοηθηθεί. Υπάρχουν τα γυαλιά. Υπάρχουν τα λευκά μπαστούνια, τα οποία θα τον βοηθήσουν να νιώσει τι βρίσκεται στο διάβα του. Μπορεί κάλλιστα να υπάρξει μια λάμπα ή ένας πυρσός, αν είναι σκοτεινά είτε απο την ώρα της ημέρας είτε λόγω των ματιών του.
Τώρα, αυτός ο άνδρας σχεδόν σίγουρα δεν θα ακολουθήσει τη γυναίκα αν δεν έχει στην κατοχή του τα προαναφερθέντα αντικείμενα. Στην πραγματικότητα, μπορεί εξ αρχής να δεί λανθασμένα, περνόντας την γυναίκα ώς άσχημη ή αποθητική, και εν τούτις δεν θα την ακολουθήσει καθόλου.
Ο άνδρας αντιπροσωπεύει τους ανθρώπους, και η γυναίκα συμβολίζει την αλήθεια. Τώρα, αν η λογική του ανθρώπου ή η αντίληψη που έχει πάνω στο πώς έχουν τα πράματα είναι λανθασμένη (αποικονιζόμενη ώς η χαμηλή του ικανότητα όρασης), είναι σίγουρο πώς θα παρερμηεύσει την αλήθεια, ή να φτάσει στα δικά του συμπεράσματα. Αυτό δεν σημαίνει απαραίτητα πως ό,τι νομίζει ειναι στην ουσία μια αντικειμενική αλήθεια, ούτε ότι η αλήθεια είναι διαφορετική απο αυτήν που στην πραγματικότητα είναι. Εάν έχει μελετήσει το πως έχουν τα πράγματα, τότε του δίνεται ο πυρσός, και αν είναι πρόθυμος να αφήσει τα δόγματά και τα αυτεπιβαλλόμενα δεσμά του κατά μέρους της λογικής και της κρίσης του, κερδίζει τα γυαλιά του. Γνωρίζοντας μερικά γεγονότα για την αντικειμενική αλήθεια, μην αφήνοντας τα συναισθήματά του να μπλεχτούν ή να μπούν στη μέση της, του δίνεται το μπαστούνι, με το οποίο ξέρει που βρίσκεται.
Άλλο ένα παράδειγμα. Ο Αλέξανδρος είναι ένας απλός άνθρωπος, χωρίς αυτό να τον κάνει κουτό. Η Λένα είναι πολύ καλή στο να λέει ψέμματα. Εάν η Λένα πεί ψέμματα τον Αλέξανδρο και ο δεύτερος την πιστέψει, τότε το λάθος είναι του τελευταίου, επειδή δεν έχει μελετήσει την φύση των αν8ρώπινων ψεμμάτων αρκετά έτσι ώστε να μπορεί να κρίνει αν η Λένα προσπαθεί να του πεί ψέμματα ή οχι. Μπορεί να ακούστει λάθος στον Αλέξανδρο, αλλά η Λένα σίγουρα θα συμφωνούσε. Και βασικά, η Λένα θα έλεγε επίσης ότι η ικανότητες της στο να λέει ψέμματα ειναι τέλειες, περιαυτολογόντας, αλλά αυτό είναι επίσης ο τρόπος με τον οποίον παρεμβαίνει στην αλή8εια.
Δεν είναι ότι η Λέννα δεν είναι όπως φαίνεται. Η Λένα είναι ψεύτρα. Κάποιος που την έχει μελετήσει, ή κάποιος που απλά την γνωρίζει για αρκετό καιρό μπορεί να το ξέρει ως γεγονός. Συνεπώς, αν ο προηγούμενος υποστεί ένα απο τα ψέμματα της Λένας, θα το καταλάβουν και θα ξεφύγουν απο αυτά, αγγίζοντας την αλήθεια πίσω απο το ψέμα τησ Λένας.
Και θέτω για άλλη μια φορά το ερώτημα. Είναι ότι τα πράγματα διαφέρουν απο αυτό που φαίνονται να είναι, ή είναι ότι απλά εμείς δεν μπορούμε να τα δούμε με έναν απρόσωπο τρόπο; Θέτωντας το αλλιώς, είναι ότι το γυαλί είναι θολό, ή μήπως το θολώσαμε εμείς με την ανάσα μας;
Πιστεύω πως είναι θέμα ανάλυσης. Όταν σταματήσουμε να πιστεύουμε ότι είμαστε ανενεργοί παρατηρητές και αρχίσουμε ουσιαστικά να μελετάμε το περιβάλλον μας, αρχίζουμε να βρίσκουμε πρότυπα, συμπεριφορές και πράξεις που πολόι άνθρωποι μοιράζονται, και τότε μπορούμε να αρχήσουμε να κατανοούμε καλύτερα και βαθύτερα ό,τι γίνεται τριγύρω μας, που πας οδηγεί στο δεύτερο βήμα, που είναι να κάνουμε κάτι γι' αυτό.
Το να έχεις μελετήσει την φύση των ανθρωπίνων ψεμμάτων, ας πούμε, σου δίνει δύο πολύ ευρείες επιλογες. Να πεις ψέμματα τέλεια, ή να αναγνωρισεις το ψέμμα και να βρείς την αλήθεια πίσω απο αυτό. Φυσικά, τίποτα δεν έχει μόνο δύο πλευρές, ή άσπρο και μαύρο. Συνεπώς κάποιος θα μπορούσε να κάνει εύκολα λίγο απ' το καθένα, να λέει ψέμματα και να τα καταλαβαίνει όταν του λένε εκείνου, ή να μην ψεύδεται καν. Είναι μια υποκειμενικότατη επιλογή, που κάποιος θα μπορούσε να κάνει προς το συμφέρον του, μετρώντας όμως τις συνέποιες.
Άρα, το σημερινό μάθημα; Να κρατάτε το μυαλό σας ανοιχτό, φαντάζομαι. Προσπαθήστε να δείτε τα πράγματα ως έχουν, όχι όπως θέλετε να τα δείτε, και μά τους θεούς, όχι, επαναλαμβάνω ΟΧΙ όπως θέλουν οι άλλοι να τα δείτε. Το μυαλό είναι σαν το αλεξίπτωοτο, δουλεύει μόνο αν είναι ανοιχτό, και όταν είναι σε σώζει.
Αυτά για σήμερα

garfield

2008-11-15T05:44:00.001-08:00

asdasdasd

Paralhrhma

2008-11-15T05:43:00.000-08:00

27.000 άρχοντες και 60 μαθητάδες,
8 βουνά σαλέψανε κι ο ουρανός τα κρυβει.
Πές μας τι έχεις άρχοντα και κάθεσε κλαμμένος.
Τίποτα 'χω κι αφήκ'τε με και λόγο μη μου λέτε.
Κι άμα 'χετε άρχοντες κι αλλού,
να πάτε να τους βρέτε.
Τούτα είπε και ψόφησεν,
κι όχι στον ήλιο μοίρα,
και τα πουλιά ελάλησαν και η πλημμύρα σείσθει.
Φύγανε οι άρχοντες,
φύγαν κι οι σχολαρέοι,
και τη στοριά που μάθανε
κανένας δεν την ξέρει.
Κοιμήσου και παρήγκειλα
στην πόλη τα πρικιά σου,
και τη σκιά σου την καλή
πάντα να την θυμάσαι.
Και άρχοντας θε να σε βρεί
και τελευταία πνοήν αφήσει,
πες του η μοίρα χάθηκε,
και να την χαιρετήσει.
Ώρα καλή σου μάστορα
κι ας μή ζείς να μ'ακούσεις,
και το κρεβάτι σου
τη νύχτα να το στρώνεις.
Ώρα καλή σου τό 'πα γώ,
κι ας μ'άκουσεν η νύφη.
Στόλισε τ'άσρπα τ'ασημιού
και τα χρυσά 'π' τ' αστάχυ,
κι άσε την μοίρα σου να κλαίγεται,
κάτω θε στο λοιμέρι.
Κι ο τούρκος ν'άρθει να σου πεί,
για τ'όμορφο το σπίτι,
πες του ο ήλιος χάθηκε,
κατώθε βασηλέυει.
Άσε μας κύρη καλέ
να πάμε και να δούμε,
κι ας μη γνωρίζουμε ταχά,
που πάμε, που πατούμε.

Last words of a man

2008-10-22T13:49:00.000-07:00

I want to see you cry.
All of you.
Cry and ache, with sobs and whimpers, with tears of black.
All of you which tossed my kindness to the trash like it was a borrowed toy. All og you who couldn't fit it in your heart and mind that there may have been a person who actually cared. All of you who never appreciated anything. all of you who never said 'thank you', who never gave back the love I gave or tried to give you.
All of you to whom I opened up and gave everything, and the answer was a big and provocative lie.
I want you to understand what you had and what you lost. Because these are my last words. And everyone who's known and loved me will understand and will not be offended and they'll cry too. Them, I forgive. Because I know they where always close to me as much as I was to them. I always knew that there was and would be an equal and fare trade, one that no one asked for, they just gave.
All of those who opened up to me but couldn't bear the simple and clear truth which i gave with all my heart. All of those who listened to my advice quietly, cursing inside. All of those who trew away my words from their heads like they were dust on an old dusty shelf.
Because they didn't have the courage to go against anything. They wanted to sit and pretend to listen just so I could finish. Finish with my kindness, because I gave them a lot and they were offended, they weren't used to it.
I want to see you cry. Just in case now you don't have me around you, maybe you'll understand what you once had and now you don't.
Because such is the nature of man. Ungreatful, greedy, with memory only for whatever bad happened to them.
That's how he rolls.
He needs it.
He wants it.
To feel mioserable and excuse himself.
To feel comfortable.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I ever wanted to get close to you and teach you about good and right, love and care, I'm sorry.
Because you weren't worthy, not of the first nor of the millionth chance you were given.
And now I want you to be sorry. Not for something I did. But for something I will never do to you again.

Να σας δω να κλαιτε.

2008-10-22T11:28:00.000-07:00

Θελω να σας δω να κλαιτε.
Ολοι σας.
Να κλαιτε και να σπαραζετε, με λιγμους και σπασμους, με μαυρο δακρυ.
Ολοι εσεις που την καλοσυνη μου πεταξατε στα σκουπιδια σαν να ηταν παιχνιδι δανεικο. Ολοι εσεις που δεν χωρεσατε στην καρδια και στο μυαλο σας οτι μπορει να υπηρχε ενα ατομο που να νοιαζοταν. Ολοι εσεις που δεν εκτιμησατε ποτε τιποτα. Ολοι εσεις που ποτε δεν ειπατε ενα ευχαριστω, ποτε δεν ανταποδοσατε την αγαπη που σας εδωσα ή προσπαθησα να σας δωσω.
Ολοι εσεις στους οποιους ανοιχτηκα και εδωσα τα παντα και η απαντηση ηταν ενα μεγαλο και προκλιτικο ψεμα.
Θελω να καταλαβετε τι ειχατε και τι χασατε. Γιατι αυτες ειναι οι τελευταιες μου κουβεντες. Και οσοι με ξερουν και με εχουν αγαπησει θα το καταλαβουν και δεν θα προσβληθουν και θα κλαψουν κι αυτοι. Αυτους τους συγχωρω. Γιατι ξερω οτι παντα ηταν κοντα μου οσο ημουν και γω. Ηξερα οτι παντα υπηρχε και θα υπηρχε μια ιση και δικαιη ανταλαγη, μια την οποια κανεισ δεν ζητησε, απλα εδινε.
Ολοι οσοι μου ανοιχτηκαν αλλα δεν αντεξαν την απλη και καθαρη αληθεια την οποια με ολη μου την καρδια τους εδωσα. Ολοι οσοι ακουσαν τις συμβουλες μου σιωπηλα, βλασφημωντας απο μεσα τους. Ολοι οσοι πεταξαν τα λογια μου απο το μυαλο τους σαν να ηταν σκονη σε ενα παλιο ραφι.
Γιατι δεν ειχανε το θαρρος να πανε κοντρα. Ηθελαν να κατσουν και να προσποιηθουν οτι ακουνε απλα και μονο για να τελειωσω. Για να τελειωνω με την στοργη μου, γιατι τους εδωσα πολλη και τους πειραξε, δεν το ειχαν συνηθησει.
Θελω να σας δω να κλαιτε. Μηπως και τωρα, που δε με εχετε κοντα σας, καταλβετε τι ειχατε καποτε και τωρα πια οχι.
Γιατι ετσι ειναι ο ανθρωπος. Αχαρηστος, απληστος, με μνημη μονο για οτιδηποτε κακο του εχει συμβει.
Ετσι γουσταρει.
Το εχει αναγκη.
Το χρειαζεται.
Για να νοιωθει μιζερος και να δικαιολογειται.
Για να ειναι βολεμενος.
Λυπαμαι.
Λυπαμαι που θελησα να μπω αναμεσα σας και να προσπαθησω να σας μεταδωσω το καλο και το σωστο, την αγαπη και την φροντιδα, λυπαμαι.
Γιατι δεν ησασταν αξιοι, ουτε της πρωτης ουτε της χιλιοστης ευκαιριας που σας δωθηκε.
Και τωρα θελω να λυπηθητε εσεις. Οχι για κατι που σας εκανα. Αλλα για κατι που δεν θα σας ξανακανω.

On the look of things.

2008-10-22T11:25:00.000-07:00

There's a saying i've most often heard in my life. It goes, 'things
are not always as they seem', or, 'not everything that shines is gold'.
Well, the second one might be right, but when you think about the
first one, that things are not always as they seem, one could actually
give that a second thought, and get to the conclusion that, perhaps the
ones that cannot see are us. It is not, so to say, the subject itself that
hides its nature under mysterious veils of lies, fake smiles and bluff.
Let's look at it keeping a rather simple example in mind:
There is a man, who has vision problems. And as he walks his path, he
finds in front of him a beautiful woman which, naturally, he wishes to
follow. Now, he cannot do that easily for he cannot see clearly what's
ahead. There are ways to help him. There are glasses. There are canes,
which will enable him to feel what lies ahead in his way. There can be a
lamp or a torch, should it be dark either by the hour of the day or by
his own eyes.
Now that man will most certainly not follow the woman if he does not
possess any of the aforementioned items. In fact, he might even see
wrongly from the start, capturing the woman as ugly or appalling,
therefore not going after her at all.
The man depicts the people, and the woman symbolizes the truth. Now,
if the man's logic or perception of things is flawed (depicted as his
low vision), he is bound to misinterpret the truth, or reach his own
conclusions. That doesn't necessarily mean that what he thinks is in
fact a fundamental truth, not that the truth is something other than
what it, in fact, is. If he has studied the ways of things, he is armed
with a torch, and if he is willing to leave his dogmas and self-imposed
boundaries out of his logic and judgment, he acquires his glasses.
Knowing some facts about the fundamental truth, disallowing his fillings
to mix or mess with it, he is given the cane, with which he knows where
he stands.
Another example. Alex is a very simple man, without that making him
daft. Lena is a very good liar. If Lena lies to Alex and alex believes
it, then it was the latter's fault for not having studied the nature of
human lies enough to be able to judge wether or not Lena is lying to
him. It might sound wrong to Alex, but Lena would surely agree. Well,
Lena would also say that her lying skills were flawless, and boast about
them, but that is also her way of interfering with the truth.
It isn't that Lena is not as she seems. Lena is a liar. Someone who
has studied her, or someone who plainly knows her for some time might
know it for a fact. Therefore if they are lied to by Lena, they will
understand and elude it, reaching for the truth behind Lenas' lie.
So I pose the question once again. Is it that things are other than
what they seem, or is it that we don't see them in an impersonal way? In
other words, is it the glass that's blurry, or did we blur it with our
breath?
I believe it is a matter of analysis. When we stop being passive
viewers and actually start to study our surroundings, we find patterns,
behaviours and acts that many people or things share, and then we can
begin to better understand what is around us, which leads us to the
second step, which is doing something about it.
Having studied the nature of human lies, let's say, gives you two very
broad choices. To lie, flawlessly, or to detect lies, and find the truth
behind them. Of course, nothing is two-sided, or black and white.
Therefore one could easily do little of both, lying and understanding
lies, or not lying at all. It is a choice most subjective, which one may
take for their advantage, measuring the consequences.
So, today's lesson? Keep an open mind, I guess. Try to see things as
they are, not as you want to see them, and by gods, not, I repeat NOT as
others want you to see them. A mind is like a parachute, it only works
if it's open, and when it does it saves you.
And I guess that's all for today.

George Sprangler pt 1

2008-09-14T04:03:00.001-07:00

December 29, 2005.
"If you are reading this, then I have failed this planet. I do not have much time. Monsters, ancient, untold horrors are after me. I tried! I tried to send them away! But the charms did me no good. If they find me, I'll go back to Arkham and try to fix all this. But if they
THEY'RE HERE
THE DARKNESS COMES
THEY ARE AMONGST US
THEY________"

November 14, 2005.
It was a common, rainy day in Athens, Greece. Freezing, especially since it was night. Yet, that didn't stop all those citizens from taking their evening strolls down the square, chatting and laughing, browsing through things to buy for their loved ones and getting their early christmas trees and ornaments.
And so the time passed, for every common man and woman.
But not for George Sprangler. He was sitting in front of his desk with a cup of coffee, strong and hot, in which he laid his hopes for staying up for as much as he had to, yet not too much, because he was human after all, and he had limits.
He let a big yawn, covering his mouth even though no one was there, and wondered momentarily when would it all end. He looked at his watch, let a weary sigh, and then turned his attention to his desk once again.
It was covered in notes, photos of deformed dead bodies, circular coffee stains, a large notebook and a pen. All of them, signs of his work that evening.
George Sprangler was a policeman. But lately, for some reason, he had been doing the job of a private investigator. It wasn't something as dull and ordinary as spying on the saucy husband of a suspicious spouse, or anything like that. Quite on the contrary, this was an interesting case indeed, and a little more tiring that it should be, he added.
It was by far the strangest case he had ever been on, in all his years on the force. Some months ago, bizarre scenes of murder made their appearance in town. Slowly, one by one at first, then more and more frequently and with more killings each time. And the most peculiar thing about the killings was the way they were executed. As they say, the devil is in the details.
Bodies, tattered and torn, cuts all over them, and strange symbols carved on them, possibly by knife but even the morts weren't sure, each time in five specific points. One on the forehead, between the eyes, one on the back of each palm, one on each foot. Every time, the same symbols on the same spots.
Must be some kind of cult, George thought. The whole five-point thing reminded him somewhat of Stigmata, the four places where Jesus Christ was said to have the wounds from the nails, plus one on the head by the crown of thorns. But one thing he was sure of. Stigmata could never look so.. So hellish, so ritualistic, arcane and mystique. It seemed that whatever it was these guys were doing -there must be more than one after all, how can one person be so brutal?-, they sure knew how to do it, as well as why and with what goal.
Maxwell Adams, his boss had called him to his office, one cold Friday, and explained to him how things were with the murders. Then he told George that he was one of the best, and that he was sure he could trust him. Trust him about what, he didn't say, but George could easily guess.
'The city is not doing well, George. Not well at all. I can't stand seeing my hometown in this kind of distress. As if it wasn't bad enough with all the everyday muggings and murders. Are you willing to help us, Mr. Sprangler?'
George nodded. When his surname was spoken by ol' Max, it meant that hard times were ahead. Maxwell nodded too.
'We need you to investigate the whole thing. Gather as much information about it as you can, then try to find some kind of pattern they might be using, so that we may use it to predict their moves and try to intercept their movements. We attempted, but to no avail. We are counting on you , George.'
How could he resist? It was a pretty interesting case all by itself, and he thought that maybe something good would come out of it, like a promotion or a raise or something.
But that was then. Now, merely a week later, he wished none of it was real. As he glanced at his watch and saw that three hours had passes since midnight, he simply wanted out.
Bone-chilling murders, done in strange places, in strange ways, and even stranger symbols in them. All those ritualistic, gutual glyphs literary carved on the skin of the dead. They gave him an eerie feeling, like he had seen them before, maybe in a distant dream, or perhaps in another life.. No, that wasn't right. George didn't believe in the whole incarnation thing. It couldn't be right. I mean, you just die. And then nothing.
Right?
He put that thought aside, too tired to think about it longer. He had other things to do now. Thirteen murders so far. A total of twenty-nine dead people. The people notice that kind of thing, especially when little crying old ladies go to talk-shows or even the news, mourning the deaths of their sons, daughters or grandchildren - although the latter was a more uncommon case.
And then, everyone asked the most expected and sensible question:
'Who is to blame? Who is killing our loved ones and why isn't anyone doing anything about it?'
After that, the people started making the same question to each other. They wanted to know what they should watch out for. They needed to know what killed their neighbors, even though they could've cared less for them when they were alive.
And Christmas was close. Very close. You can't have people panicking and worrying about some psychopath who decided to ruin their holidays and lives in general. But frankly, George could really care less about that reason. It wasn't solid enough to be a good reason. People were doing, and whoever killed them was out there. That was the whole point of it.
That, and George wasn't a man for christmas.
When he reached his eighteenth year of age, he moved away from his parents' house. Since then his christmas was even worse than before he left. When he was with his parents, every year at that time, all kinds of weird people would arrive, and Mrs. Sprangler would make a giant buffet for the so-called 'relatives' to feast upon. Everyone would shout, curse, talk about golf or backgammon, ignoring George and his mother- they would've done the same to his father, had he not died in an accident at work when George was five.
Unfortunately, things went exactly as George had wished them to. He moved, after his mother got married again and he was sure she was economically able and healthy, and he managed to make a fresh start. But soon he realized that being alone and single at christmas was even worse than being with insolent and greedy relatives.
Ever since, he decided that if the holidays would stop meaning something special to him, then he would simply stop feeling more alone every such time of the year. And so he did.
But hey, since those people cared, and George cared for the community, it wasn't really a choice to leave the case aside, right?
He rubbed his forehead, and then looked at the right side of his office. There was a pack of cigarettes there. George rolled his eyes.
'No way, I quit.' He said out loud.
Yeah, ten times already, an inner voice told him.
Annoyed at his on self, he looked at the pack again with disgust, knowing that these things where a nasty bunch. They killed you slow, promising you bliss and delight, if you only smoked 'one more.. just one more..'. And with each one, you walked one step closer to Death, who seemed to grin and nudge you with His bony fingers to 'Come Hither, Mortal'.
'Hmph' was George's response, and then he tossed the cigarettes away with a careless slap. After that he noticed, in the chaos that was his desk, that underneath the space previously occupied by the cigs, there was the photograph of a young woman, standing in the rain.
She..
With her cute little face, and her wet black hair, with her delightful smile, as she feels the joy and freedom of dancing in the rain, laughing her heart out, not caring about the cold she had just acquired.
George smiled. Maria was her name. He remembered her. How could he forget? She was his first true love, the only one who actually cared for him and bothered to actually understand him.
They'd met while at high school, and while at first they didn't like each other at all, after some time, when both of them decided to look deeper into the personality of one another, they instantly fell in love.
George took Maria's picture in his hands. He kept staring at her gorgeous eyes (even though half-closed, to avoid getting rain in them), and her petite silouette, dramatically toned by her wet clothes. What a night that was.. He caressed the photo on the part of Maria's head.
And now Maria was dead. It was a car accident, or so they told him. They breaks had broken down, and there was no way for her to slow down when she unexpectedly took a quick turn to avoid some stray cat that had probably decided the road was now its home.
He wiped a tear from his eye, with a bitter smile. How cliche. A car, a slippery road, a little animal in the way, no breaks, haha, you're dead. George wondered how many times this kind of thing had actually happened, and to how many people and families.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he decided to let it all go, and call it a day. Or night, at any rate. A long and cold one too, he added to himself. George sighed and went to sleep, taking off none of his clothes and changing into no kind of PJs.
Well, he thought, I never go outside these days, so my clothes aren't dirty, i also wash them regularly, and after all, it's too damn cold to sleep in pajamas.
He switched off his desk's lamp, glimpsing at the disgusting pictures of the victims' unrecognizable bodies one last time -for this night at least-, tried to clear his head, then lied down on his bed.
The change between awareness and restless sleep was almost instant.

* * * * * * * * * *

George Sprangler was standing in the middle of a cobblestone-road, staring at the little houses, all in a dull brown-greyish color, reminding him of some books about old manors he once read.
Where the hell was he? And how did he get here? But.. He couldn't remember where he should've been, too.
He checked his costume jacket's inner pocket, and his hand came to his mouth, holding a nicely carved wooden pipe. Interesting, he thought. For some reason, I feel like I shouldn't be wearing a costume, or having a pipe and matches in my jacket's pocket - or a jacket, as a matter of fact-, and I shouldn't be smoking the pipe, and I shouldn't be playing with my healthy, well-trimmed mustache.
Galloping. Suddenly all his thoughts were drained away by the sudden noise of horses riding fast towards him. By the time the information entered his head, his instinct had already burst into action. George quickly jumped to the side of the road, falling down and avoiding the fast and almost certain death that would have found him, had he not been lucky.
'Crazy fool!'
George turned to look at his near-death-experience cause: a black carriage, horse-dragged, and on top of it, the one that cursed at him, the driver. He opened his eyes wide, upon closer inspection of the drivers face: it had fins. His face structure clearly human, yet he had fins all over! And these full black eyes... Georges jaw dropped.
'Are you alright, sir?' A young female voice asked behind him.
Still looking at the shrinking figure of the carriage rushing through the street, he got up and tried patting on his shoulders to remove the dust.
'Yes, I think I'm alright. Barely dodged it.' While saying this, he turned to face the one who asked him if he was alright.
And then he lost his voice and his throat went dry. What he stared at was a figure of a woman, with a head like some alien octopus, all green and with flaming-red eyes, tentacles where the mouth should have been, and fins for ears.
George took a sudden step back.
'Are you sure you're alright? Sir?' It asked.
George stepped back again, his feet barely keeping him standing upright. Nearly staggering, he managed to say, in a weak and low voice:
'Wh.. What.. Are.. You?..'
'Sir?' The figure's voice was more deep now, ancient, brutal and visceral.
'Get.. Away from me..'
'AZ'GOTGH?' Its voice bellowed like thunder, so elder, so gutual and otherwordly. It would be the voice with which the deep ocean would claim its victims, if it would talk.
George's feet gave up on him. He fell on his back and just barely felt something burning his hand. He quickly glanced at it, and saw that the tobacco from his pipe had fallen on his hand and was burning it. He tossed it aside and noticed a spot of burned skin. He turned his attention to the creature again. The last thing he saw was its tentacles clasped on his head.
'NO!'
And then he was on his bed again, breathing fast, sweating and touching his face on the places where the tentacles had caught him. It was all a dream... He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water to calm him down. And when he reached out to get a glass, he noticed something on his right hand.
A spot of burned skin.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Under The Stars

2008-09-14T04:02:00.000-07:00

The man in the black formal costume took a step forward. The lady in the elegant blue dress went on looking directly into his eyes.
'What nature, what arcane chemistry binds us together, my lady? What is it that so strongly unites us under the sun and the moon and all the stars that watch? Be it passion, the flames that burn in our chests, or be it the fondness that kids feel when their eyes meet a person that they fancy?' The man asked.
'Nay, my kind lord, 'tis love, that which you feel in your veins surging, the earth from below your feet sweeping, the little beat your heart seems to skip whenever our eyes lock sight. 'Tis that which holds us close, and 'tis that which makes us sigh in the deep of the night, when we aren't lying side by side. 'Tis that which turns withered flowers into beautiful fields of roses, red as blood when we are together, but when we're apart makes the whole sky look pale and worn out in our eyes. For I do know, my sweet, that we both suffer when our bodies are apart, and our minds, hearts and souls have become one, intertwined like two snakes in a mystifying dance, like two waves of sea that crashed together and continue as one.' The lady answered.
'My lady, you speak true. My heart is yours, and my thoughts are only occupied by you. My spirit longs for your soft touch when you are not around, And one gentle kiss from your lips can ease all my sorrows and unburden my chest. I no longer want you. I need you in the same manner that a man in hunger needs food and a man in thirst needs precious water. For you, I can do anything, and shall do so as well, should you only ask of me. I am yours.'
'And I am yours.'
'Then come, my heart's passion, keep me no longer waiting for the promised kiss. For the night is young and so are we, and the stars are pious judges. None shall see and none shall hear the lover's sounds of delight, yet yell I will to all the world that love I've found in the night.'
The man placed his hands on her waist and the woman hers on his cheeks. Their eyes met once more, and then each looked at the others lips, half open, yearning for the minutes that follow.
A kiss, and the whole world explodes.

Vysarion, 1

2008-08-20T18:37:00.001-07:00

'So, is it recording now?' The figure sitting at one end of the table asked, pointing towards a tape recorder that was placed on it.
'Yes, i just inserted the new tape. Tell me about yourself.. Who you are, what you do, that kind of thing.' The other one replied, making a gesture towards the first figure.
'My name is Vysarion. I was born in Greece. I died in England, and now I'm back here.' He replied, a little smile forming on his lips. He was awaiting the next question with impatience. Some asked him how he was there if he was dead. Some asked him if he was a vampire, doing so with a grin of foolish disbelief. Some didn't ask at all, merely stated that he was crazy. They were, one way or another, persuaded in the end. That didn't mean that they had liked it in the end.
'You.. uh... Died? You said?'
At this, Vysarion's smile widened and he placed his palms together on the table, seemingly giving the other man more of his precious attention.
'Does it strike you so queer, that a person may return from the dead?'
'Well.. Yes, since no one has really done it before, except maybe this one man who's part myth, really.. But, you didn't answer me, how can you have.. Uh.. Passed on? I mean you are-
'Right here standing before you, yes. Your powers of observation are truly remarkable.' At this he nearly laughed.
The other man waited. Vysarion's smile faded somewhat, as he felt that he should continue.
'There are curses, my boy, that don't end when someone dies. In fact, they merely start just then: In the precious few seconds between life, death, and what is beyond. Such as the dark gift that was passed on to me from my sire, and to him from his own.'
The man seemed thoughtful of this.
'Are you maybe implying that you are a...'
Vysarion straightened up.
'I make no implications. I will state to you that I am beyond death. I am a creature of the night, a kindred, or a vampire, as you have come to call us. I have lived many nights on this world and I am no longer going to imply anything to anyone. I do not fear stating such things as my existence to anyone. I simply chose to reveal my nature -in lack of a better word- to you.'
The man laughed in disbelief.
'A vampire.'
Vysarion smiled. It was a smile of some cold calm, something that made you fear if you looked at it for long. The man's smile faded somewhat.
'There are no such things are vampires. Everyone knows this. They have been an urban legend since time imemoriam.'
Vysarion's smile seemed to sweeten a bit, becoming kinder, warmer.
'I have many ways to prove my nature to you. Good ways, bad ways and even worse ways. All of which would waste precious time that I could be using to tell you my story. I only ask you for you faith and belief. In my words. I wouldn't lie to you, would I?' At this he smirked.
The man's jaw dropped, and he seemed to speak without saying anything, moving his lips about, shaping unsaid words, because there were so many things he wanted to say at the same time, all about how the man in front of him could not be what he claimed.
Vysarion sighed.
'Let's start with the basics. I thought you were a brighter man than the ones before you but it seems as if I have to prove myself to you as well.'
'..Others, before me?'
Vysarion smirked again.
'There have been others. I was willing to share my secrets. My story. My experience. They had their chances, and they wasted them in the worst fashion. I trust that you do not do the same. For both our sakes. Now pay attention. First to my neck and chest, then your watch. I want you to feel for a pulse. Go ahead.'
The man hesitantly raised his index and middle fingers and touched the Vysarion's neck. He waited. He looked at his watch. Twenty seconds have passed and the he hadn't had a single heart beat. As if he was truly dead!
His eyes widened in shock and mild terror.
'And now I want you to be silent and pay close attention to how my chest does not move, as breathing is no longer a required act for me. For the sake of not being called a cheater, I will also hold my nostrils closed.'
The man nodded in awe.
Vysarion brought his fingers to his mouth, and now the man noticed for the fist time how unusually long they were, and how sharp they seemed. Not the nails but the whole fingers. They seemed as if they could cut through glass. They were also very thin and delicate though, and he could only guess how dexterous Vysarion was.
With a smooth, liquid-like movement, Vysarion slid his index finger over his lips, and then over his nostrils.
What the man saw next was definitely the most paranoid, frightening and strange thing he had ever seen in his life:
Vysarions lips started merging as if the skin surrounding them had been turned into soft clay, until his mouth was closed and seemingly nonexistent, making even the memory of there being lips and a mouth there obscene. And then the same thing happened to his nostrils. They simply closed, flesh had covered what was once two holes that were there on every human being for the essential function of breathing.
His reaction was to stand up in terror, letting his chair fall, plainly looking at the man in front of him, jaw dropped, unable to utter even the simplest of words. And somehow it seemed that Vysarion had actually smiled with his shock. Somehow, the lips that weren't there were smiling. And then he heard his voice in his head, clear as crystal. He thought he was going mad, there was no way he talked, not with a mouth like that, not without having a mouth. And yet he did speak, if only in his mind.
'I was going to come to the part about my.. abilities, but I thought that there is no time like the present. You may look at your watch if you want, and count how long I can stay like that. I promise you will either find me of great skill in holding my breath, or you will come to leave your disbelief aside and listen to my story.'
The man nodded, eyes still staring at the other one's mouth, and he finally found the strength of saying a simple, weak 'ok. I believe you'.
Vysarion passed his finger over his nose and mouth again, and this time his flesh started melting again, reversing the effects of his previous act. The man watched as slowly Vysarion's mouth and lips were formed again, how his nostrils changed in shape and size until they were both equal, and how his lips seemed to have a little extra skin in them, which was later absorbed by the area around the lips, forming his mouth perfectly as it was before he did anything.
And now he smiled again.
'Please' he said 'be seated.'
The man did so.
'Now do you believe me? Or do I have to show you more of my power, which I can assure you, can be using in a much more cruel and ill-mannered way?'
The man nodded.
'I believe you. I believe you. I do.'
'Good.'
There was a short pause.
'How long is one of those things?' he then said, pointing again towards the tape-recorder.
The man was a bit confused at that, still looking at Vysarion's mouth and bringing back the queer scene in his memory, but very soon he checked the machine, and saw that most of the tape was done.
'I think this one has another ten minutes or so in it.'
'And have you brought many tapes?'
'I usually bring around twenty, in case I get a long story out of someone.'
'And that is good. Now change the tape.'
The man cocked an eyebrow, and opened his mouth to ask why but Vysarion stopped him with a wave of his thin hand.
'If I am to finally start my story, I want it to be on a new tape. Just so it can be.. Easier accessible.'
The man considered this. He nodded, fetched another tape from his bag, pushed the Stop button on the tape-recorder, and changed the tapes.
Vysarion laid back to his chair and merged his hands again and placing them on the table in a relaxed manner.
'Good. Very Good. Now let us begin with my early years, when I still drew breath.'
----------------------

The Fall

2008-08-19T14:15:00.000-07:00

A kiss of fire blessed my lips
And all the world is gone amiss

The swaying slow of our sweet dance
Body embracing body enthralled in a trance

And you open your eyes and you look into mine
And I feel a snaking cold in the low of my spine

You laugh and you whisper gently in my ear
You must kill me to hold me forever by you dear

Blood flows free from the wound of your blade
As I fall to the floor like the fool I was played

You wipe the knife clean with your once loving tongue
As I say the last words with the breath in my lung

I love you.

I loved you.

Goodbye.

A cig's time

2008-08-02T05:23:00.001-07:00

Thin smoke, curling and dancing in the aether, lying on the deathbed of its ashtray, each second drawing it toward its final destination, ashes to ashes..
And a weary hand takes it, and lips dry of joy embrace it, and it is again drawn inexorably towards the end.
A tuft of smoke emerges from these same lips, carrying with it the sorrow and solitude of them, feeding on slow death, free in it's beautiful dance of shapes and dreams, ghostly appearances of people of old and memories of times both good and bad, silver-lined smoke floats towards the damp ceiling, and the mind knows there is no escape.
The dying cigarette is placed again in its pedestal, and now a tear follows it, wetting the ashes and creating mud of gray and black.
The lips cannot close, the hands cannot leave the head unsupported, the chest cannot and will not stop raising and falling, sobbing and crying, letting moans and sighs of pain out of it.
And so it dies, leaving the last thin apparition of smoke, the face of a woman smiling towards the eyes that now weep.

Armagedon?

2008-07-22T23:01:00.001-07:00

Andrew searched the corpse's former possesions (at least the ones that were clean enough and not covered in vile blood or flesh leftovers), to find some ammunition for his trusty gun, a piece of bulletproof armor which he could use, and a very old and seemingly-broken tape recorder, like the one reporters use to interview someone.
He presses the rewind button to check if it works, and when, to his pleasure, he found it was alright, he let it like that for a bit, then pressed play.

*sounds, probably bad quality of the tape or data that has been corroded*
"Day 6. i have no idea what these things are. I've seen quite a lot of them. Everyone is locked inside their homes, the television says that it might be a virus that leads to loss of conciense and vast amounts of rage, that is also very contaminating. Being part of the army, i was enlisted to do some patroling with one of my friends from the squad, Nigel. We didn't find any of those "infected people", but i couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched...."
*end of recording*
"Day 8. Those things.. Whatever they are, they are not human.. not anymore.. we were chased, and we ran to some abandoned house. Their numbers are overwhelming! My AK ammo is nearly over, and there's no way i'm using that pistol unless there's a grand emergency. Even now, i can hear those things moaning.. it appears that they are hungry, and as paranoid as it sounds, i believe that they crave for human flesh.. God help us should we fall to the hands of one of them.."

*slight clicking noises, sound of gunfire, running, and a distand moan, composed of what sounds like several people. silence.*
"Oh my god they got Nigel.. They planted a bite on his arm, I barely saved him, I used the clip's last bullet to shoot that thing in the head to let Nigel go... It seems that those monsters can only be killed by a headshot, I've filled several of them with holes, and they didn't even slow down... Oh my god, what are we going to do.. the food supplies are looking pretty grim, and so is our ammunition, and Nigel is sitting in a corner of this ruined room and babbling something incoherent.."
*silence, next recording*
"Day 13. They moan. They eat, they moan, and they search for more prey.. They never stop. Never. The tv's off, it doesn't transmit anything. They must have eaten everyone in the channel's stations.. Those.. Soulless monsters... "
*concieled wimpering, then in the distance:*
"Hey man, got any more smokes? Nigel? Nigel are you listening to me? Oh.. no no. No! Nigel! No! Not you too, man! Oh my god no!"
*distant moaning*
" Stay back Nigel.. Stay back man, I don't wanna do this.. Nigel!"
*gunfire, some shouting, moaning stops, sound of something heavy falling down*
" Oh my god.. Nigel.. No... Those bastards..."
*sound corroded, tape approaches its end, and the most recent recording*
"*......*Never catch me alive! *..........*"
*gunfire, screaming.*
"*....* Go back to the hell that spawned you!"
*more gunfire*
*screaming, less gunfire, moan getting louder and closer until sounds of ripping and tearing of what sounds like skin is heard. More screaming, without big duration. More liquid-like sounds, more ripping sounds of some material.*
*end of recording*

With a shiver, and a tear running down Andrew's cheek, he placed the tape recorder in his backpack, making a mental note to keep a vocal diary himself. These will indeed be mankind's last days.

Blood And Thunder

2008-07-22T23:00:00.000-07:00

"Johnathan, get me a vial of No. 53. Quick now, my boy."
The lab was well lit, all the little tubes and vials with liquids of different colors like a sick and twisted rainbow occupying most of the space above the many desks this lab contained.
A little man, quick by nature and precise by years of experience under the commands of his master, Dr. Bradshaw, remembered where the vial that was requested was -the process took no more than a second-, and went to fetch.
"Soon, my dear Johnathan.. Soon all of this will pay off.. We will be eternal, my boy. Eternal!"
Johnathan considered this. No master, we both know you want it for yourself because you are the impersonation of greed. We both know that you will keep this to your dear self, or sell it for billions and billions of dollars, so that you can actually live rich and famous.
"Do you understand? I will beat man's first and worst fear, death! Imagine a world with no death!"
And no insurances, Johnathan thought. Less money for the rest of the world, more for you. Also, the earth would really be over-populated. As if we don't have enough people rotting underground..
Johnathan didn't actually hate his master that much. He had come to help Dr. Raymond D. Bradshaw because he really wanted to put his knowledge to the test with this.. The man claimed he could achieve eternal life -he had done so for more than the 6 years that Johnathan helped him-, and that was no small thing to do. At first, John did what he did out of interest.. Curiosity.. Out of fear that the man could possibly do what he dreamed of.. And now..
"Our names will become legend among the people!"
John could already imagine a big, leatherbound book with the title 'Johnathan Shilling & Raymond D. Bradshaw: The ones that damned us by saving us'. He wasn't sure he liked it.. Still, he had to wait and see..
"4 vials of No. 13, 2 of No. 65, and one No.27. Quick."
Dr. Bradshaw was a simple man. He knew what he wanted, and soon, he learned how to get it. Nothing could get in his way. He would not allow such a thing. His plans were above the judgment of any other human. Only he and his faithful errand-boy were to be trusted with his projects. His obsession with life eternal was born when his parents died in a car accident, while he was at the young age of 14. He then decided that he could help science get omnipotent, beating death and the sorrow it brought to everyone. He became a famous doctor, until he confessed his ultimate project to the scientific community. He was instantly pushed over, shunned by everyone and called a "highly promising individual, yet severely mistaken".
But now he had done it. He had actually found the way to triumph over the Grim Reaper, Death, Uriel, the Otherside, and any other names the people have given to death over the ages..
It wasn't easy to pick up the ingredients. Not at all. when he tried to buy some of (Vial No. 56) at first, the pharmacist looked at him and asked him in a serious tone "Sir, what are you planning to do with this?". Of course he had replied he would use it in some experiments. Which was mostly true, after all. The pharmacist persisted "You do know that such a thing can cause..."
"Yes, yes, I've heard all about it, now if you would please give me what I kindly asked you." He had grinned while he said it.
And that was one of the better cases, some of the vials he had to fill in the houses of charlatans, mediums, spirit talkers, tomb-freaks, and other peculiar individuals he wouldn't want to associate with again, if he had the choice.
And the colors.. There was something of the colors in the little vials. They seemed to suck the light in them and a bit around them. Other substances just reflected the kind of light that signified their color and you could clearly see a hue of red, green, blue, etc etc.. These things.. they seemed to do the exact opposite of 'glow' or give off a color hue.. The particular one he was holding was a red so deep it reminded him of a painting he once saw at another scientists house. It's theme was Death, and it showed the end of a battle, and what remained of every body out there on that huge field.. That made the hair on the back of his head raise a bit, but he decided to ignore it.
"Are you listening to me, boy? Get me what I asked."
Johnathan was of course on the move, although the Dr. could not see that because he was too absorbed into his work and paraphernalia. He handed the vials to him.
Again, Dr. Bradshaw had that eerie feeling, and he mixed a little of this with that, then infused it with something else, while something was also burning above a bunsen burner, and a machine beside him was stirring a couple of other test tubes letting out a faint whizzing sound.
Sweat was forming on his wrinkled brow. Only a couple of minutes left before his dreams came true. He just had to do this and that, and all these years would finally pay off... And, really, what are a few years, compared to a whole infinity?
"Observe, my boy.. This is indeed a great, big leap for mankind, no matter what that little moon-man said back then. What you see, may well be..."
He raised the vial on his right hand.
"Evolution."
He let a single red drop fall in the larger test tube in his other hand.

Letter.

2008-07-17T05:41:00.000-07:00

I love you.
It all starts as simply as that. It always does.
How can you not see it? How can you not sense it? Believe it, put your trust in it, feel it in the air when we are together? How can you disregard my pact-paced, beat-skipping heart? How can you never look upon me with kindness in heart and spirit, when I can assure you that my own heart beats for you? These lungs draw air for you, these eyes never crave the sight of anything unless it is your sight, this mind bears your thought constantly, this soul weeps for you, unable to withstand the fact that you are not here, I cannot embrace you, I cannot get lost in one of your smiles, I can't hear your musing voice, nor smell your mesmerizing scent.
I cannot sleep at night. I think of you, and I cry, And 'tis a cry most bitter and tormenting, for tears do not flow, there is only the awful lack of them. It seems that my eyes have dried along with my throat. My eyes hurt, and then I stop. I realize that I'm holding something in my hands, as if my own life depends on it, and in a way, it does. It is my pillow, a cheap substitute of you that never was adequate consolation, nor will it ever be. My grip tightens, I want the pillow begone and replaced by your hand, kindly holding mine, gently announcing your presence, and of course, the pillow bends. It is nothing like you. Never was and never will. And I know that, yet there is nothing I can do but be patient.
You've been gone for not so long, yet to my sensations it feels like eons. I cannot and dare not think of your everlasting absence, that which you so claim to seek, the cold dark touch of the night's grasp, the dry and bony smile of the Grim Reaper.
I dare not think of losing you. I know I will end up deranged, eating my own fingers on my hands, or crying myself to sleep, silent since a time long forgotten, lying alone in a room that reeks of death and bodily fluids, my murderous and offset mind has created by means of gunpowder and knives, kept clean by use of spirits, my lone companions in an endless ocean of loss.
What you have seen, you cannot unsee.
What you have felt, you can never lie about to your self.
If you ever loved me, dearest one, If one drop of your blood wished my well-being, then stay your hand and loosen your heart, let us live a night full of love, only you and I, a night full of everlasting dreams, solid and substantial, dreams we can make true, only if you do this thing for me and trust me, take my hand instead of the Angel of Death's and let us fight alongside, live alongside, overcome and overpower anything that stands in our way, forever you and me, united.
Strong.

Loved.

by my heart,

Andreas Marios Kordatzis.
I love you with all my being.

November Night

2008-07-11T05:23:00.000-07:00

"I have... But one... Heart..This heart i bring you..
I have but one heart.. To share with you..."
I blow a puff of smoke from my pipe. That's one of my favorite records playing. A special record. But this is a special night..
My name is Adamantios, and though fate has been too kind to let it show, I'm in my mid thirties... I am... Not your ordinary man in his middle thirties. Indeed, I am not an untamed beast, and I'm not a brainless klutz that goes about in flashy cars, or with stylish models..
Old fashioned, some people call me. Some just call me weird, or demented, or whatever they like. I just smile and blow another puff of smoke..
"You are.. My one.. Love.. My life I live for you..."
I'm sitting in front of the fireplace, in this cold winter night, and my only friends are this pipe, my Cabernet Sauvignon from my own cellar and ol' Frankie's voice. Oh, here comes the napolitano bit, I always liked that part.
I once dedicated this song to her. I wonder if she even remembers it..
"Ca u mare parla e na' carezza, Ma a tia la brezza, fina murir..."
I smile a bitter smile. I know she doesn't. She never understood, how much she meant to me. Can't really blame her, I guess, it's in the nature of human to forget, or so someone said. Might as well blame someone for having two eyes, right?
I drink some more wine, savoring its taste little by little, like my life hangs from it. Then I turn my attention to the space above the mantelpiece, where her portrait is. I painted that one, long ago. I was never good at painting, or copying faces on the canvas and that sort of thing. But after I lost her, her image was stuck so deep in my heart and my mind, that I eventually learned to paint, only to do her own portrait, from memory. And this was it. The only thing I ever did that I was a little proud of.
Another smile forms on my cold lips. And I did you good, didn't I? Dearest? A toast. I raise my glass. To your beauty. And my love for you.
I drink all the wine that's left in the glass all at once. It's snowing outside. Why does it happen so that it always snows on this day? Maybe up there, you still remember, and cry with me.. My tears are measured with drops of wine, and yours with snowfall.. Each gust of wind that takes the snowflakes with it is another one of your dances, so mystifying and dreamlike, like the gliding of an angel in the sky.
I remember you.
Always.
But this day is special, like I said. This is the day you left me. Alas, I know you didn't want to. I guess it was the mysterious touch of fate that took you from me, that dark November night, when you were hit by that train. And to think you were coming to visit me, after such a long time of working abroad. It was our one chance, to see each other again, like we promised.
My smile remains bitter.
What has fate wrought..
Tonight is your night. Our night. Tonight, you dance for me and I drink to bear the pain of watching you but being unable to embrace you once again.
"More wine sir?" A soft, known voice asks behind me.
Samantha, my maid. You would have liked her. She too plays the piano and loves to listen to songs we like. She also keeps your flowers from dying. She' a good woman, but quite stubborn at times. It's alright though, it's all in the set, as my father used to say.
Yes, please, Samantha. She has the bottle and asks me to fill my glass. I guess she thinks she's taking care of me that way. As if i couldn't order her to just give me the bottle whenever i wanted. But it's alright too, it's better that way.
She fills my glass and then patiently takes two steps backwards, standing there, waiting for my next order.
How many times do I have to tell you, Sam, you can always sit somewhere, we have many sofas, lots of couches, and even more chairs. All those years and still you feel as if standing there and tiring yourself is your duty?
"Well, it is, sir."
That again. My name is not sir, never was, and will never be. Adamantios, or Adam, if you prefer. I think 6 years are enough for you to be able to call me by my first name..
"But, sir!-"
I raise an index finger. Ah, ah! What did I just tell you about that?..
"Yes si- Adam.."
I smile again. Stubborn Samantha. Always the same. Your heart is kind and you restrain it.
"Do you want me to change the record or play it again, sir?"
I let a little sore laugh. Sir. Again. No, I tell Sam. I didn't even realise it'd ended. It's alright, I will be returning to my reading soon, anyway. You know I can't read while listening to music.. I don't know which one demands more attention from me.
She smiles.
"Yes, sir. Do you need anything else?"
No, I believe this night is already at its end. I'm getting weary.. You are not free to take the rest of the night of, but also encouraged to. Another smile.
"Goodnight, Adam."
Goodnight, Samanta. And sweet dreams. May fate smile upon you.
"You know I don't believe in fate, Adam."
Neither do I, Sam. Neither do I. Now off you go.
She nods, and leaves.
Goodnight, Samantha. And good night to you, my dear.

ABC...

2008-07-01T03:20:00.001-07:00

Another fine day, if i may say so.
Bees, trees, birds and all that.
Commonly, that's what you get anyway.
Death is all that lives here though.
Extremely peculiar, that.
For death to live somewhere, that is.
Gods know how one land can be ruled by death.
Hundreds of years, it's been like this.
I've only lived here for 30 years or so.
Just enough to know nothing about the place.
Keeps its secrets to itself, the land does.
Like it has a mind of its own, bugger it.
More than that, there's that tower up there,
No one knows who built it or when,
Presumably, it has always been there..
Quite so, I'm afraid, it seems like it watches us all the time..
Reality seems twisted around it.
Stare at it, and it stares back.
Turn your gaze, and feel it behind you, ready to stab you..
Undeniably there, Undeniably ominous.
Vast, burned land, and the king that watches over it.
Why? no one knows. There is no door to it.
Xenophobia keeps people from teaming up and entering it somehow.
Yonder, yonder... The ubiquitous watcher.
Zombies we are, and we work for it unknowing.

One.

2008-07-01T03:19:00.001-07:00

I want to be....
The hand that will catch you when you fall,
The arm that you will grip should you fall again,
The shoulder you can cry on and let it all go,
The ear you can talk to and unburden your chest,
The mouth that you will hear the most precious words of,
The lips you will kiss whenever you need it,
The chest you can rest your head on when you're tired,
The eyes that you can look into when you need to feel secure,
The heart that you will hear skipping a beat whenever you touch it,
The embrace you will have when you need a sanctuary from everything.
I want to be..
Everything for you..
For if you are content, then I am fulfilled.
If you are happy, then I am ecstatic.
If you need me, then I can't do anything without you.
If you love me, then I adore you the most.

And I want us to be one..

A Child Of Malkav Speaks

2008-07-01T03:16:00.000-07:00

A frenzy of care and hate,
a passionate breath on the neck of one dead November,
a ship lost in the clouds of thought,
a mad wizard who has ran out of spells,
the frog that never became a prince,
the lost kiss of a tree in the desert that once prospered,
a beggar that laughs at the rude,
a man who died in love,
a step towards the fall,
the milk of the mother sea,
the carefree fauns in the bushes,
the dream of a blind traveler,
a swim in the fantasy of an adolescent rush,
the dream of a limp climber.
O, summer night, so full of magic, lust, love and conjurations,
wherefore are the adoration, the starts, the dreams, they have all turned to ashes..

Exams.

2008-05-18T08:09:00.000-07:00

I remember our first kiss..
It was a kiss that left many many promises for the near future..
I was flying over the seas and the mountains, and all those tiny little meaningless ants down there. I was the master of all that was, the king, the lord, the omnipotent one. I felt waves inside me, such waves of passion, lust, affection, love, want and the insatiable desire to lose myself in that kiss. It wasn't just the act of two lips merging and separating, two tongues embracing in a frenzied tango that could shatter the mind faster than a nuclear bomb. It was even more. A little bit of my soul entered you, and yours entered mine. We were one, we were inseparable. The snake that eats its tail, the oroboros, and even more, we were one in movement, in thought, in breath and in heartbeat, two bodies that were so close they just begged to finally merge, two souls swimming as one in the endless vivid red sea of our blood rushing through our synchronized hearts.
And then it was over, and I opened my eyes like a newborn baby, and then I actually saw you for the first time. We were clear to each other, and we both knew that.
You smiled, and then I left.
I took the first step.
Everything seemed to be ok, perfectly normal.
I took the second, third, fourth steps.
So far so good.
I took as many steps as it took for me to leave through the door.
And then I took my first step to the outside world, forever changed inside.
I thought I was having a heart-attack, I thought that the ground was no more stable, but a mixture of clay and liquid mud, forever going up and down, left and right, randomly and ever changing. Everything had it's colors changed from second to second. All the smells of the world entered my nose for the first real time, yet all of them could not even compare to the smallest fragment of your scent. My hands felt just like two balloons that were set free, free to fly, to leave this body, to return to you. My feet moved on their own, using their own memory, because the brain could no longer tell them what to do. It was too busy thinking of you. There was no one outside but ghosts and images of you. Smiling, laughing, winking, nudging me to come to you.
And when I finally managed to get back home, I remembered that my heart was elsewhere and my business at that house was short. I grabbed that little present I bought you and ran back to you, getting a beer on the way. It was the first time I didn't like it. It was the first time that its flavor and alcohol could not fill me spiritually and emotionally, and in every other way.
You can put as much beer as you like in a can, but you can't can a kiss.
And then I returned to your soft embrace.
I was alive.
Everyday thereafter was bearable only because I would see you again soon. Not as soon as I'd like, not as soon as I'd hope, but.. Soon enough.
The air is stale, for it is not filled with your aroma.
No food is savory, no drink quenches my thirst, for it is not your lips and it is not your kiss.
No thing, be it any material, is welcoming to the touch anymore, for it is not your hand, and it is not your waist or your soft cheeks, and it is not your velvet skin.
No sound rests as easy in my ears, for it is not your welcoming voice.
No sight, no color, nor painting or other feeble art is delight to my eyes, for it is not your image, and it is not your eyes.
A man deeply enjoying the gifts of love...
A lonely, yet happy man..
My head burns with thoughts of you and me together, and my heart can't decide on a pace to follow.

And I'm supposed to study for my exams?

The Sounldess Scream

2008-05-04T21:38:00.000-07:00

The rain falls down caressing my skin
Alone I stand before my fallen kin,
To the West there is but death to see
To the East a mirror, and inside me.
North and South, My soul is crying
And in the end I must be dying.
For this loss, the one that I feel
Is of the few lacks that do surely kill.
On my knees I do fall, my hands on my neck
That salvation of choking which I pray to beget
For the spirits of two when combined to one
When united they stay and beloved they stand
'Tis surely a wonder one's heart must embrace
Through tears in the eyes or a smiling face
Alas, in darkness my death grip is gone
My weary mind from the weeping undone
For I lost my Muse and the fault is all mine
And the brightest of stars has again lost its shine
Pray, do tell me, why am I alive?
I know in my flesh, to the hells I should dive
For a soul without love is all but fulfilled,
Face it or not, you are still being killed...

Your Eyes

2008-05-04T21:37:00.000-07:00

Your eyes,
a restless sea in which I drown,
the bliss of life that is your gown,
the cloudless sky that brings the light,
and in those eyes I find delight.
A mighty hurricane of colors,
we may never feel as ours,
and even lest we lose our valors,
we will gaze in them for hours.

Translation

2008-05-04T21:35:00.000-07:00

Τί γίνεται άραγε όταν αναστενάζουν τα βουνά;
Όταν ο ουρανός δακρύζει για τη μοναξιά του;
Όταν η έρημος περιμένει με αγωνία για τον επόμενο καμηλίερη;
Όταν η θάλασσα και τα πλάσματά της δεν ωλέπουν καράβια;
Όταν ένα απέραντο λιβάδι, απάτητο απο ανθρώπινο πόδι, θρυνεί;

Άραγε ανεβαίνει πλέον κανείς;
Άραγε όλα τα χελιδόνια κοιμούνται;
Ή ίσως τα αρπακτικά κάνουν υπομονή;
Άραγε ανασαίνουν όλοι καλύτερα στη γαλήνη της μοναξιάς τους;
Άραγε θα γνωρίσει ποτέ την παρουσία κάποιου;

Τόσο κοντά, μα τόσο μακρυά...
Τόσο μεγάλος, κι όμως τόσο μικρός...
Τόσο ανοιχτή, αλλά τόσο απόκρυμνη...
Τόσο γαλήνια, κι όμως τόσο ανυπόμονη...
Τόσο άδειο, κι όμως τόσο γεματο...

Μα στο τέλος, είναι δίπλα-δίπλα, χωρίς ανάγκη κανενός.
Στο τέλος, τα σύννεφα είναι πάντα εκεί, με αστραπές και βροντές.
Και όταν έρχεται το βράδυ, η άμμος γεμίζει μικρές ψυχές.
Γιατί τελικά, πάντα είχαν ο ένας τον άλλον.
Και το λιβάδι μάτωσε, αλλά γέμησε κατακόκκινες παπαρούνες.

Η μοναξιά, η ομορφιά και η χαρά, είναι πράγματα υποκειμενικά.

I wonder...

2008-05-04T21:33:00.000-07:00

Whatever happens, when mountains do sigh?
When the sky sheds a tear for his own loneliness?
When the desert waits for the next caravan?
When the sea and Her creatures see no ships?
When an endless meadow, pure from man, mourns?

Wonder if anyone climbs up them anymore?
Wonder if all the swallows are sleeping?
Or maybe the cadavers are patiently waiting?
Wonder if they all breathe more at ease in the calm of their solitude?
Wonder if it shall ever meet the presence of someone?

So close, yet so far...
So big, yet so small...
So vast, yet so steep...
So calm, yet so inpatient...
So empty, yet so full...

But in the end, they are side by side, always, never in need of anyone.
In the end, the clouds are always there, with thunder and lightning.
And when night arrives, the sands fill with small souls.
Because in the end they always had one another.
And the meadow bled, but filled with scarlet red poppies.

Loneliness, beauty and joy are in the eyes and mind of the beholder.

Untitled.

2007-11-07T12:50:00.000-08:00

My head hurts. I've been here before. My heart hurts. Been there too. My whole body hurts. Nearly gotten used to that. My soul cries. Yes, that too.
They say that man gets wiser and wiser as he grows up, as he matures, as he evolves, be that physically or spiritually. Or at least, he should be doing so.
Then why is it that I make the same mistakes, again and again and again? Why is it that I see the same traps I've seen a million times before, yet I still fall in them without second though? Am I retarded? Am I mentally deranged? Spiritually incapable of evolving? I once thought that I had reached my limits. I had. I had taken so much sorrow in me, that my brain could simply take no more in. My ex was there, crying, tortured, and I was simply there, apathetic. I talked to her. No feelings. Just pure and sheer logic, so sharp it carved permanent tribal marks on your very aura. She cried. and she shouted and screamed and shouted. And I was still there. Still in apathy, still telling her what she would never have nightmares of being told of. Yet is seems, that my limits are being tested again. And from what I gather, I am either failing -If, pray, fail is an actual choice or possibility-, or I am struggling to keep on top of the whole thing.
My arms feel dead. So do my lips.
The same mistakes. Over and over again. Why? Only I know the answer. And the answer is, "because I brought this all upon myself. Because I haven't done life's homework and I am suffering the righteous consequences. I wonder.. Is it time for vacations yet? I dare say the subject has become quite tiring and repetitive...
"It's not easy being the chosen".. One of Voltaire's songs. I never liked it. Up 'till now. Cause damn, it's not easy. And that's exactly why I'm in it. Cause everything that's worth much to you is hard and it hurts. Yet, after you've endured the pain you will have taken your spirituality to a whole new level. Yet it is not the final stage. No, it's not even the beginning. Freedom requires virtue and courage, so said Andreas Kalvos. These words have always been with me. Each and every time I felt alone, broken, weak, I thought of them.
In the end, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.. I know that too. Then why do I fail and fall again? Maybe it's because the reward will be greater. Greater than any other reward anyone else have had, or could ever dream of having.
But...
I'm a little more concerned about what's happening now, If you may. I never cared about the past. It was only there so I could learn from it. The future, that's only there so you can put into action what you have learned from the past.
but in the present
you use both at the same time, while also trying to deal with everything else.
Sometimes I get tired. Some times I get bored. Some times I get depressed. Sometimes I just get totally fucked up. And I decide to stay behind, for just a bit. To catch my breath, if you may. That doesn't mean that the pain stops though. No. And life's not getting any easier. So what're you gonna do about it?
Meh.
I say, fuck it all.
I say keep on fighting.
I say, stop yelling and lecturing your girlfriend/boyfriend and treat them as they should be treated.
I say, enjoy life and make the most out of it. It's in your hands really.
I say fuck it all.
I say you have to give up.
I say, drown in the bliss of your sorrow, then surface to the contention of your joy,
I say, fuck tomorrow, fuck yesterday. Live for today. For all you know, you could be dead tomorrow.
I say, I may believe in all the previous, yet it is my decision to stay in this swamp of my mind and keep fighting myself above others.
I say, when you write things down, there's just that less of a burden on your shoulders.
I say, I hope you understand me, yet you've not felt like this for a long time.
Goodnight.

Eclipse (a Vampire:the Requiem Fanfic)

2007-10-20T08:51:00.000-07:00

{to Eclipse. She knows ;) <3}

It's been a year since my embrace. A long, lonely, wretched year. I remember it like it happened just yesterday.

Me and my sister walk home from that club, the Asphalt Mix. I always thought it was the most stupid name for a club, but at least it was good in the inside. And even though my sister is two years younger than me, we enjoy having a cocktail or a drink together. And sometimes, even the music's not that crappy. Music has lost its style, nowadays. I mean, there used to be songs where one had put their soul into, and you just listened to it and you cried and cried. Or danced, or cheered, or something anyway.
There used to be music. Now it's all bling-bling and no technique at all. And I'm not talking only about rap. Yeah. Everyone else has turned into a 'pimp' or something. There are really, really few good musicians left. And sometimes, Asphalt Mix puts some of their songs in the 'jukebox'.
'So, did you have fun tonight? I ask my sister.
"It was totally awesome. I would have never guessed a Bloody-Mary could be so tasty. I mean, it's only tomato juice and gin."
'Vodka. Not gin.'
"That one." we laugh as we decide that it's probably time to go home.
Well, it's not like our mother would yell at us or something. We had all the time in the world. Our mother abandoned us when I was ten, never telling me the reason. She may have been a drug-addict, or part of a mob or something. Anyway, she left, and that's what matters. She left me with Susie, my younger sister. All alone, let to raise and protect one another in whatever way we could. Yeah, thanks mom.
And dad, he was simply nonexistent. I don't remember having a dad, maybe he did what he did with my mother, and decided he was too much of a worthless person to help a mother raise his kids. Cheers to him, bet he's homeless or in jail, or something like that.
'Any good movies on tonight?' I could really use a thriller, or at least a comedy.
"Don't think so, except if you want to see Spiderman for the tenth time.."
No way.
'Oh damn... Wanna go to the video club to see if there's anything good to rent?'
"Why not? Let's go!" we laugh once again. And they say goths have no fun. Oh yeah, that too. Even though I hate labels, I believe they make people less than human, I can't help it, I'm a sucker for black, for fingerless gloves, for boots, for chokers, for the dark beat, the emotional songs and all that. And even though saying I 'm a goth would sound poser, there's no denying my nature. I just like dark stuff. Can't help it.
I look at Susie. Fortunately she's a regular one. No trend on her, nothing emo, nothing metal, she has her own style and she doesn't give a damn about whatever anyone else thinks about the way she looks. I smile. Well, I am like her, I just adopted this as my style. I mean, if someone calls me a freak, or anachronistic or whatever, I couldn't care less.
My sister stops walking.
"Jul. Do you hear footsteps?" I stop to listen.
'No I don't.'
"Juliette... Are you sure you don't hear them?"
'Yeah, Susie, I'm-' Oh god. I do. And they're not the footsteps of someone walking. I look at Susie.
'Run.'
We start running. Damn me and my stupid ideas! Go to the video-club! Sure! At this time, and through these dark alleys. Damn!
The sound of footsteps is closing in on us, yet I look back and I still can't see anyone.. Susie looks at me, her little face twisted from agony, she asks me 'what're we gonna do?', without talking, just by looking at each other in the eye we know what we want to say, and words are unnecessary.
I look at her, and I say 'keep running'.
The footsteps sound closer and closer to us, yet again I look behind me and I see no one. Where the hell are- oomph!
"Greetings, pretty señorita" That guy! Where the hell did he come from? One moment he wasn't there, and the other I bumped on him!"
"My, my. A most lovely catch, don't you think Sergio?" He looks latin or something.. so does that other guy that just entered the alley. How many of them are there?
"Aye, Manuel. She is a pretty one." Where's- Fuck! He's got Susie strangling in his grasp! When did he get her?
"Listen to us, pretty young lady. We are the one Brotherhood, The Brood Of Belial. We are heretofore claim your ass.. Mine."
"Juliette!!!!"

And then, darkness. Echoes, in the night.
"So you're leaving her like that?"
"Yup. Nothing to do with her anymore."
"Damn man. You must have killed the little girl."
"So fuckin' what? We're the Brotherhood man, We kill whenever the hell we wanna."

"really now..."

"..beautiful rose..."

"...apologies..."

"...curse.."

Ugh.. My head... What happened? I feel so.. weak.. Susie.. Where's Susie? Where am I?
Calm down Juliette. Get Up. Damn it hurts. I feel as if I got hit by a car.. Who the hell were those guys? And why did they take Susie? Is she safe? Christ, I swear I'll kill em if they hurt her...
Wait a minute.. When that guy beat me unconscious, I was in an alley... And now.. I'm under a soft and comfortable blanket... I must have been put to bed by someone.. But by who? And where?
I look to my left, away from the wall that the bed's right side faces.
"Good evening, my beautiful flower.."
Not again.. I swear that If I could, I'd jump on him and beat him like there's no tomorrow..
"Do not fear. I.. Saved you from those pathetic excuses for thugs."
'Thanks.' I really can't find anything better to say.
"Please. You have to trust me. I will not harm you. I never could."
'Who are you, and where am I?'
"I am Jack. And you are safe. This is one of my houses, which I use in times like these."
'Jack. Did you see where those.. Thugs took my sister?'
"Unfortunately, no."
Shit. I let out a big sigh.
"I killed the one that dared lay a hand on you. But when I turned to attack the other one, he was already going for their car. I had two choices. I would either save you, or go and kill that guy and suffer the loss of an innocent. Which would you choose?"
I turn my gaze away from him.
"I'm not going to hide anything from you, my childe."
Suddenly my eyes are stuck on him. how didn't I notice his charisma before? He looks... So elegant, so trustworthy..I suddenly feel like I can trust him and he can trust me as well, though.. He seems nothing special, with his little face, no beard on it, and his unkempt hair.. I wonder how old he is, he looks somewhere close to thirty..
"My childe. You are no longer human."
I nod.
"Do you know of creatures called.. Vampires?"
I nod.
"What If I told you that they were real?"
They can't be. not now, not ever. Their very existence is a natural paradox.
I nod.
'It would make sense.' I say, not believing myself.
"And now, what if I told you, you are one of them, just like me?"
My insides scream. Every pore of me is shouting that this cannot be true. Not now, not ever. There is no bloody way. I shake my head, I try to move despite my horrible pain, and eventually I stop.
And I nod.
'That explains how I was saved, and why I'm in so much pain, I guess.' Am I really saying this? Though It makes sense.. Somewhere, very deep inside my mind, in the depths of the subconscious, it actually makes sense.
"You are one of us, my childe. And I am your sire. Merely the one who gave you this chance of changing, of living on. A curse to some, a blessing to others. Allow me to explain things in more detail as I offer you the first meal of your new life."
He smiles, and he opens a bottle of what seems like blood-red wine, and he goes to another room and brings a large glass to pour it in. He pours some, and then puts his hand behind my head and raises it, so that he can help me drink. I would never dare deny this proposal.
And I swallow, and I swallow, more and more each time, until I realize that the glass is empty. He smiles and pours some more in it, and I know from the smell that it is not wine.
Again, I drink, and suddenly all the pain is gone, I feel like I'm born again. Better, faster, stronger, cleverer. This glass empties much faster, and I crave more... He smiles even wider, and throws the glass to the wall, letting it smash into tiny shards. He grabs the whole bottle, and feeds me like you feed a baby milk from a bottle.
"Drink, my childe. Taste your salvation, and your ties to the world of the night.. Drink, and rest. For tomorrow night, I will show you the ways of the Daeva."
Words are meaningless right about now. I drink, and there is nothing else in this world except me and my drink. No thoughts. Just feelings, blazing in me with the eternal fire of what I realize is blood.

And that was one year ago. And I still haven't found my little Susie. I hope she's ok, or there will be hell to pay for each and every one of those motherfuckers...
And now, one year later, as if they just noticed I exist, the prince and his little office fellows call me in their headquarters, using someone with a name like Nathanail or something.
"Eclipse, if you please." He shows me the door to his car. Oh, and, that's my new name. They told me that you have to have new names in order to escape from your past. Whatever. It's just a excuse for me to use one of my favorite nicknames. As for escaping from my past, thanks, I'll do that when I find my sister and avenge her snatching away by those bastards. Or at least one of them, cause Jack killed the other.
I get in the car, and patiently wait for us to get to the prince's headquarters.
"My apologies for the lack of attention on our behalf. We I assure you we were unaware of your embrace, as your sire did not mention anything about you, or anything else. Come to think of it, we haven't seen him for a year or so. Even the Nosferatu are having trouble in finding him."
You won't find him. Even I can't, and I'm his childe. He moves from house to house and from apartment to apartment just as quickly as we enter the rooms of a house. He hasn't shown up much since my embrace. He just filled me in on the basics, told me about the pros and cons of each clan, told me the bare bones of how the Kindred society works, and then left. He sends a letter every now and then, though. Letting me now that he is ok, and asking me if I am doing good as well. I always write back, wondering why he doesn't show up, or why he doesn't send an email or something, or if he'll actually receive the letter.
"Not only that, but the subject of the Brood's activity is getting worse night after night. More people are found mysteriously dead, or dry, without any drop of blood around them, and many more are missing. Police is going crazy, and Athens is at the edge of her seat, biting her fingernails and wondering in terror when it will all end."
'Bastards.'
"I couldn't have put it better."
'Yes you could. "blood-sucking bastards".'
"Heheh. But we are all blood-sucking, dear Eclipse. I believe it is one of the common traits of the Kindred."
Whatever. Some time passes, and the guy -Nathaniel's his name as I remembered-, announces we're there.
We get in, past the iron gate, and I come across ten or more kindred in the same hallway.
We all look at each other, the hair on the back of our heads standing, and we battle ourselves mentally, so that we can resist the urge to just go Rotschreck and slaughter anyone in the vicinity. We look as if we got over it.. At last. I really hate it when the Beast wants control.. Wait.. What's that? I think I heard someone growling! Everyone's jumping on a frenzied kindred, trying to get her to get a hold on herself. She's struggling, and everyone's shouting at her to calm down. The door at the end of the hall opens, and someone in black rushes out, tells everyone to get away, grabs the frenzies vampire by the neck, lifts her in the air, and while she's struggling and screaming, he looks at her right in the eye, and issues an order that she just couldn't disobey:
"Stop."
And the woman freezes, and she looks at him with her jaw dropped.
"Come to your senses." She nods, and he puts her down, as easily as he lifted her up.
Everyone is at ease now, and they go back to their works. Wow. The man's got style. He smiles, warmly, holds her hand, and whispers to her:
"Emily, If you act like this again, I'm afraid I will have to stake you and keep you in the catacombs for a few weeks.." She freezes. ".. You know how much I admire your skills, and how I need them for the building's well being, as well as mine." She nods. "Don't make me do something I will regret.."
"Yes prince. Sorry prince." So he's the Prince? Wow. So he can rule the beast that Athens has become.
He gets a good look at me, and then he goes back to what appears to be his office.
Nathaniel just stands there, all cool and indifferent of the whole situation that just took place.
"That was Prince Vladimir."
'I figured as much.' Nathaniel laughs, and we walk towards the door to the prince's office.
Some Nosferatu guy appears right in front of us, and he looks a bit amazed to see that I didn't lose my temper while seeing him. I can't say I'm a Haunt specialist -Haunt is another nickname for them-, but I've just got used to the fact that some Nosferatu might pop out of nowhere in front of me. After all, I've been kindred for a year or so..
We go inside after some questions from the Haunt. The prince is sitting behind his desk, looking at some paperwork. He instantly sees us once we enter the office, and turns his attention to us.
"Prince Vladimir, I have brought you Eclipse."
"Thank you Nathaniel. You may leave." There was something in the way he said that. It was as if he said 'you will leave'. And so Nathaniel did.
"Good evening, young lady. It has come to my attention that you have had a quite unfortunate event, a year or so ago. I would like to talk to you about this. Please. Take a sit."
I nod, and I go to sit at the left chair of the two that are in front of the desk. He sits on the other side, places his hands together on the desk, and says:
"Now tell me, young cainite. What was your.. Experience, with the Brood?"
'They kidnapped my sister sir.'
"Please. Call me Vladimir, or Vlad for short. And tell me, when was that again?"
'About a year ago.. Vlad.'
"Would you please describe to me what happened?"
And so I do. I tell him of Susie, of the footsteps, of everything that happened in that alley. Except the fact that I was saved by Jack. Being a man of power, he probably knows that anyway.
"Rather Interesting... And I suppose you've been searching for your sister all this time?"
'Yes.'
He puts his face closer to his hands, and leans a bit to my side.
"Would you be interested in helping me.. Help you?" and now he's smirking.
'What must I do?'
He gets up, and starts walking towards the wall to the opposite of the door.
"You see, Eclipse. We are going through dark times. Athens is going through dark times. People are missing. People are dying, people are being embraced. In my city. And of course, if anyone wants to put the blame on someone, then they will blame me, for everything. The Brood of Belial are all beastly punks without a cause. They exist to kill, and to indulge themselves in other acts of barbarity. I will not put up with it any longer, Eclipse. And I need you to help me. Any minute now, Nathaniel will find one more kindred like you, who will want vengeance, or at least to go and search for them, by my command. I need you to go to a certain warehouse and investigate along with this other kindred. Also. Ask questions in any way you will, from anyone you will. This is a job of attaining knowledge of their whereabouts and their plans. Help us, and we will help you."
I nod.
The doors open, and Nathaniel walks back in, with a young man following him. Nathaniel bows.
"Prince Vladimir. I have brought you here the latest spawn of the Brood, the Ventrue Franz."
Hm, that guy seems familiar somehow.. Nathaniel said his name is Franz. He is tall, slim, and he wears casual black clothes. He looks rather nice to tell the truth, it's as if he emits an aura of handsomeness. I take some time to look at him while Nathaniel explains to the prince how he found him. Interesting story. Bet he's pissed of at the Brood. he hasn't paid any attention to me, he's just looking at the prince.. Oh, there we go, he looks at me. I smile a little, and then look elsewhere. Some seconds pass, and he's still looking at me. Huh? I look at him again, and when he realizes it, he turns his gaze to the prince again. Heh.
Right about now, Nathaniel has stopped with the long speech.
"You have my gratitude, Nathaniel. Please. Leave us, we have some certain matters to discuss..." Somehow the prince's voice sounds more booming now, but not much.
He looks at Franz, and then nudges him to take a seat with his hand.
Franz sits next to me, and he nods at my direction. Is his one eye darker than the other one?
The prince sits right where he was before, and puts his hands right how they were before. Then, he starts making a speech, describing the situation to Franz. He seems like he could care less, but like he'll help anyway.
"..Eclipse here, has too fallen victim to the Brood's action, maybe in a more.. indirect approach." The prince looks at me.
Franz asks what they did to me. I tell him they kidnapped my sister, and Vlad tells him that they think they kidnapped my sister, as if he's implying that the Brood didn't take Susie, and that my word was not that valiant. That wasn't so nice, Vlad.
"You are to aid Eclipse in a job.. You are to go to a certain warehouse, which our Nosferatu informers claim to be a Brood gathering point. You are to go there, and use as much force as is needed to extract valuable information about the Brotherhood, their common places, and why they are doing all this. You are free to kill as many as you have to, as long as the required information is gathered."
Kill? I'd rather not, but if I have to..
The prince gets up, tells us that we are dismissed, and that Nathaniel will equip us with whatever we may need. Bet Nathaniel can't 'equip' me with my sister.
We get out, and find Nathaniel waiting for us.
"How did it go?"
"Jolly good" Franz says, and by the look of it, if he used more irony, it would flow from his sleeves.
'It was alright' I say, looking at the floor. I think I'm closer than ever to finding my sister..
"Now, because we do not have much space, given that there are kindred everywhere in search of Brood movement, if you do not mind, you will be residing in the same Haven. That is, the same 'hideout'." that's Nathaniel.
Excuse me? Whatever. Still beats living alone in the same house my sister was.
'Fine by me.' I shrug. Franz looks at me. What? Did you think I would mind living with a guy or something? As if we'll cooperate a lot or something..
"I guess.." Franz says, still with his 'too-bored-for-ya' attitude. Tough guy, eh?
"It's settled then" Nathaniel announces.
We get in the car, and he starts driving, taking us to our brand new haven.
I wonder how many spare havens the damned Invictus have...

Franz. ( a Vampire:the Requiem Fanfic)

2007-10-19T03:53:00.000-07:00

{This one is dedicated to Stephanie, thanks for being there for me, my angel, I love you so very much<3. It is also dedicated to Quetz. You wanted this part of the story to be longer, now you'll be reading for some time, I guarantee that xD}

He looks at me, with some satisfaction in his face. I wonder what he's thinkin'.
"Franz?" he shakes his head "Ok man, your name, your choice."
As if I'd ask for your opinion on this matter. Anyway, we still haven't arrived anywhere. And even though I know this wretched city that is Athens, I still don't know where the hell we're going. And my body still hurts, let alone that I am so hungry i could eat a whole calf or something. Shit, now what? I am supposed to find everything disgusting except blood? Like, I'll puke or something? I decide to ask him.
'Hey, uh.. Nathaniel. Can you tell me anything else about my.. Condition? Like, what I can or can't do, what am I supposed to do? That kind of thing?'
He smiles.. I wonder how much older than me he is, the little formal bastard.
"Alright. First: You drink blood. Blood is all, blood is you. No blood, no game, etcetera etcetera. Then, It's the classic thing with the sun you see in all those movies. You catch a sunlight, it'll be worst than if you caught all the sicknesses in the world, all at the same time. It'll burn more like lava injected in your muscles. Also, Fire. Stay. Away."
I nod. Man, if one day you said to me, 'man, you're gonna avoid sunlight and fire, and you'll drink blood and wear a cape', I'd give 'em the good ol' finger and laugh in their face. And look at me now...
"Moving on. No capes, no castles, no Hollywood crap. We live, survive and pray in this world, the modern one. And We have to bend or we will break. So wear goth and freakish clothes all you want, just don't expect people to take you that seriously. We are not to be called vampires. We are the Kindred. Remember that well, it could save your un-life. Also, the elderly may use the word 'Cainite' instead of Kindred. That's because someone sometime said that all 'vampires' are the spawns of Kain, the fist and ultimate sinner, as well as Kindred. I'll let you think that one out and keep what you'll believe to yourself on the subject."
Kain? Yeah right. Next you'll be telling me that Cappadocius was a vampire. I nod, while making mental notes of all this apparent nonsense.
"Wanna go into some deep detail?" he asks. What can I say?
'Enlighten me.' he nods.
"There are five Kindred clans. Bloodlines, if you will. They are the Daeva, the Ventrue, Gangrel, Mekhet and Nosferatu."
'I know that last one. His name was Schrek or something.'
He laughs, a little on the annoyed side.
"Believe me, the name suits them. Remember that one that I shot? The guy with the many zits? Most of them Sewer Rats look like him. That's their nickname by the way. But. A major 'but' there. Never. Ever try to cross one of them the wrong way. They know everything. Evertything. Something happens? The Nosferatu know it first. And sometimes, first-hand as well. They can be very fierce if they aren't let alone where they are."
'I'll be careful not to imply anything about their weight if I see one.'
"Heh, yeah, you do that. Now. The Mekhet, they too have great knowledge over things. They are more common and social than the Rats, and they enjoy darkness an awful lot. When dealing with them, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."
Hmmm...
'Wait, wait. Let me get this straight. Vampires bite, and the one they bite turns into a vampire right?'
"Ah-ah! Kindred. Vampire is a term referring to Bram Stoker's novel. And yeah, it's a bit more complicated than that, but that's the main idea."
'So, you mean, I'll become like that Nosferatu? All claws and scars and opens wounds?'
"No. It seems your Sire -that is, the person that turned you into a Kindred- was their leader, or somewhere close to that. He escaped before the two of them started beating you while you were asleep."
Holy shit.. I thought I was dead meat for a moment there..
"You seem to be a Ventrue, by the way. Good for you, lad. Good for you." he smiles, and he winks. Should I go 'Yoo-hoo' or something?
"The Ventrue -that's us-, we're one of a kind. We are born leaders, we are the in the top 2 when it comes to choosing a new Prince, and to us controlling a brain is no harder than squashing an ant. Politics are us, in a manner of saying"
"Continuing... Oh damn." I look at his eyes. He is taking short sharp looks at the mirror. I look behind me and I see a car is probably following us. No lights, no signs, black glass. Yeah. Second group tonight that seemingly wants me dead.
He looks at me, and he whispers, as if they can hear us from this distance and through the glasses.
"Listen to me. If they do anything stupid, we get out, use our discipline, and drink them dry."
What the...
'Discipline?' he's gripping the steering wheel faster, he's steering to-and-from, zigzaging all the time, and the bastards follow us and copy every move.. They must be serious about what they do.
"Look, it's called Resilience. You just think of.. of.. being invincible or something, you let your blood focus on it, and then suddenly bullets bounce away from your skin, as if it was very hard rubber or something. It's nothing you can't do."
Rubber. My skin. Turns into rubber. Just because I think so. You know, it sounds so crazy it might actually work. Or kill me for that matter, If i don't die of pain and hunger first.Damn, a time like this, and I'm thinking about my stomach. Now I'm sure I'm losing it.
I hear gunshots. I instantly know, they were aimed at us, and, from the sound of it, they made a few scratches to Nathaniel's car, or whoever it's owner is. I turn to look at the car behind us, in each window there is a man with a gun in hand, and most of the time, firing it. Wow. Why am I so apathetic about it? I mean, If someone was shooting my car, I'd probably speed up, scared shitless. Could it be because of my... state?
Nathaniel looks angry. Very angry. He turns the steering wheel full to the right, and he steps on the brake. So do the chasers. He looks at me, and nods. I nod as well. He holds up three fingers, and looks at me in a manner of saying 'watch these closely'. Then he lowers them, one by one.
Three
Two
One
The doors open and we step outside, and I that the guys are out as well, and they're slowly aiming at us again. I look at Nathaniel, then at them again, and it seems like everything is moving in slow motion. Suddenly, Nathaniel looks somewhat bigger, and he dives at the guy to the right, while bullets bounce away from him, like they hit an iron wall instead of flesh. He grabs the man's gun, turns it to the sky, let's the guy keep shooting, and then he lets out a roar, he opens his mouth, and sinks his fangs on the man's neck.
I look at the guy to the left, and smile. Hell yeah, you bastard. You're going down, just like your fella over there... His eyes get all buggy, and he starts shooting. I look at my chest. The bullets are stuck there, no wounds, no bleeding, just some bullets stuck on my chest. I pick one up, and look at it apathetically. I throw it down, and go for the beating...
Now, I've never been a Rocky Balboa, but this guy, I'm beating him like there's no tomorrow. I've lain him down, and I'm breaking his arm, and gods he screams and it's sweet music in my ears. I break his other arm, and he screams again, louder this time. Da-amn... And I used to be such a good kid.. I smirk, and I look at him. I stare into those big scared eyes, and I make a single, pretty simple proposal. I say, 'you will tell us who sent you and why'.
There are no denies, no refusal. My word was his law. And he obeyed it.
"Th.. The Brotherhood! Th-th-they sent us! W-we were s-s-supposed to kill you! Oh gods please don't do me no more harm please!"
'Shut. Up.'
And just like that, he shuts it.
'I asked, who sent you, and why. And I only got half an answer. And since I don't have any more arms of yours to break, I think I'll go for the neck next time.' Oh yeah, that's the last drop. Spill the beans, little man.
"Oh god, no! Please man, I have a family and I-"
'Shut up. If you cared about your family you wouldn't be in a shit-job like this. Now tell me. Last warning.'
"R-R-Raymond! Raymond sent us! He thinks you are trouble f-f-for the Brotherhood!"
'What brotherhood is that?'
"The one true Brotherhood! The Brood Of Belial!"
Shit, as the words reach his mouth he is smiling, as if he's going straight to heaven or something. Ok, I've had enough of this.
'What's your name?'
No response. Just some Whimpering.
'What. Is. Your. Name.'
"G-G-George! Oh man.. Please.."
'Ok then, G-G-George' I smirk wider now, and I'm pumping with excitement. 'George, you are going to die.' no, fuck what I said earlier. That was the last drop. The guy cries louder than a newborn with a megaphone in its mouth.
I open my mouth, and sing my teeth in his neck... He embraces me, he stops crying, and now he's merely sobbing. The Blood.. His Life flows in me.. George, You will be my first meal. You will be a scapegoat. You will be just an empty carcass when I'm finished with you. Gods, It tastes better than anything I've ever tasted.. My whole body is on fire, as me and George's lifeless body dance a slow, dark waltz where his being merges with mine, until his is gone. I feel it, in me, it's unlike anything else, it's exactly like the first time you fell in love, this totally new feeling that's all over you.. It's as if suddenly the world is filled with colors, as if you are the king of the hill, nothing can stop you, not now, not ever. I suck him dry, with every heartbeat spaced more than the previous, until I realize nothing is left in his throat except air.
My eyes open, and It feels like I see the world for the very first time. I look to the left, and then to the right. Nathaniel takes out a handkerchief and wipes his mouth and chin of any leftovers. he offers me a handkerchief as well, smiling. The bastard, I wonder how many times he's done this. But I don't blame him. it's both crucial to his survival, and a hell of a lot better than anything else. I take the handkerchief, then I wipe my face with the back of my hand. He looks at me with surprise, and as if I have blasphemed in some way. Then I wipe the back of my hand with the handkerchief. Aaah, he smiles again. Johny-gets-a-boney style. We don't talk much, and we get back to the car after we've searched the car they drove and found some more guns and clips for them.
"These things are nearly useless to us. Their pattern is to hit a vital organ, so that you die, but come to think about is, we don't have any vital organs any more." He winks , smiling. Then he grabs his mobile and calls for someone to clean this mess up, making sure to them that they are not to be more than five minutes late. He sighs in relief.
"And now that's over and done with, let us move on." we get in the car, he turns it on, and he starts driving again.
Wow. I killed a guy. Not only that, I drought his blood as well. Now that's something you don't do every day. And most people wouldn't want to anyway. But not me. I mean, the killing, I enjoyed it. It seemed the logical thing to do at the moment. But now... Anyway. The blood. Oh, the blood. That, I have no regrets for. I smile, and Nathaniel sees me.
"See those curs back there? Stupid people like them are prey. And we happen to be predators. They attacked us first, we had every right to kill them. But. We do not kill innocents. You want to feed off a stranger? Cool. Do it, just don't dry them up like you did to that guy."
'Why?'
"Why? Can you imagine what would happen if we drought someone dry every time we fed? I mean, think of the 'mysterious disappearances' and the 'killing streaks'. Also, think that the food would be gone very very soon. Also, that would make you a senseless killer, a mere beast. Another thing you should know. Did you feel that part of yourself back there? That part that silently whispered in your ear? It told you to drain him dry, to devour his very existence, to tear him to shreds, to kill everything that's around you. And it looked as if it was right, at the moment. That part is the Beast. Do not, under any circumstances bend to its will, Lest you become a mere puppet of your craving for blood and gore."
Shit. I did feel like this.. I'll have to watch it.
"Don't worry. First time's on the house." he smirks.
Yeah. I guess so.
A few moments pass. I'm still wondering where we're going. I scratch my neck a bit, and I feel that there's something missing... The pain! It went away!
"Oh yeah. Another power of the Vitae-"
'Vitae?'
"That's the blood. Another power it has, is its healing. You had a bruise, when you were still alive, and it would go away after one or two weeks. Now, if you've got the amount of blood needed, you could even regenerate a lost limb."
My jaw drops.
'You're not serious.' he shrugs.
"Then I suppose your wounds are gone due to some miracle?" he's got a point...
'Hey, Nathaniel. Back there, I said something to the guy. And I said it in a strange manner, and it was like he just couldn't say no to what I asked.'
"Aah, I see you have discovered one of the other advantages of being one of the Ventrue.."
Well, it's not like I had a choice, really.
"That was what we call Dominate. Your words are suddenly undeniable. They become the victim's truth. If you say to a skinny man, 'you're really fat, and you should go on a diet right now', that will be his new universe. He will be on a diet until he's dead from too much weight lost."
My jaw drops again, a little less this time. Then I smile.
'I think I like being a Ventrue.' he laughs.
"We're going to the Prince."
'The what? I thought we had what passed as democracy.' he shakes his head.
"A Prince is a Kindred, usually an elder, who holds domain over a city. In our case, Athens. I told you. We are involved in politics as well. Actually, Prince Vladimir is the one responsible for all the laws that are currently active in Athens. Including simpler things, like fashion. He pushed all those clothes and styles, and made them in conflict, so that in either side the Cattle were, they'd still be buying things, making us richer. If you know what I mean."
Shit. A vampire is behind the war between the metalheads and the emos and the trendies and all that? Wow. Kinda makes sense, eh? It's all about profit and keeping the ignorants in ignorance...
'Why are we going to that prince?'
"To report your arrival in our world. You are now in the Danse Macabre, just like us."
'What's that again?'
"That is a term for the 'life' we lead, and the whole game that is politics and staying unseen from mortal eyes. The ignorant Cattle."
Uh-huh.
"Prince Vladimir will be glad to hear that you could fit in our society so quickly. You even used your disciplines. Good." he smiles, honestly this time.
Some more time passes I watch the streetlights out of boredom. After many minutes, we arrive at an old-looking building, fit for a lover of the past, bewildering and magnificent in its beauty. Yet still, I'm sure it's seen better days.
We go inside, past the iron gates, and what I see doesn't fit well with my idea of an office. First, there are a lot of... people.... in... grrrr... Nathaniel touch shoulder. He speak.
"Take it easy boy.. I know this is hard.. You see, whenever you enter a room with unknown Kindred in it, you will have a big chance of the beast taking over you. Don't let this happen. You've been doing great till now, don't go spoiling it. They won't hurt you"
Ugh.. My head. Damn, he's right. I nearly lost it for a moment there. The others have seen me as well, some raised their eyebrows in a momentary lapse of madness, then again back to their calm little selves. I really need to watch this.
"Good. Follow me." he says, and leads the way. Where was I? Oh yeah, the room's full of people going about, talking, discussing important things, and moving from room to room and office to office, and in general, the place looked like a real, extra-large beehive. I follow Nathaniel anyway. At the end of the huge hallway, there is a door that seems really important somehow. Must be his room, or at least his HQ.
Nathaniel stops few steps from the door. I look at him and wonder. Why don't you go-
"State your business with Prince Vladimir"
Holy shit! another of those wretched things just popped out of nowhere! I mean, he must have been standing there, but what the hell? Can they turn invisible on something? If my heart was still beating, I swear I'd die of a heart-attack.
"We're here to discuss the fate of this childe. Apparently he was embraced tonight by members of the Brood. he has given many good signs of future help." Nathaniel says, as cool as an ice cube. Man, how many of them Nosferatu have you seen that you have gained immunity to their butt-ugliness? Well.. At least this one is more good looking.. If such a thing can be said. The Nosferatu, or Sewer Rat bows lightly and opens the door for us, then he vanishes again. I'd love to do that, just once.
Inside, the room is bigger than it looked before we entered. It's filled with paintings, which I always thought was the habit of the adults to stick posters on the wall, only doing it more classy by placing paintings instead. There is also a big map of the streets of Athens, hung between two paintings, one of a calm and royal-looking man, and another of someone who tears away his clothes and is filled with rage. Heh. So, Hell and Heaven, and Athens is in the middle, eh?
Nathaniel bows.
"Prince Vladimir. I have brought you here the latest spawn of the Brood, the Ventrue Franz."
Blah-blah, Nathaniel tells me how he found me, the Prince only looks at me once before he turns his focus on Nathaniel again, and I notice that to the right, there is a desk, and on a chair in front of it sits a really beautiful young woman. My eyes are on her, and there is nothing else in the room except her.
She has slightly wavy black hair with a few silver streaks, and the most gorgeous, piercing ice-blue eyes. She has the face of an angel, and the body of a goddess. She's wearing a typical gothic attire, full with a black skirt, black boots, a black choker with a silver ring hanging off of it, and fingerless studded gloves that show how beautiful and thin her fingers are. Wow. Now that's what I call some natural beauty..
I realize she's looking at me. I turn my eyes to the prince. He and Nathaniel had just stopped talking.
"You have my gratitude, Nathaniel. Please. Leave us, we have some certain matters to discuss..." The prince's voice suits his appearance. Tall and slim, dressed in black from toe to head, in garments that would make the best tailor's handmade costume die of shame. He has high cheekbones, a somewhat pointy chin, and overall, the appearance of a cold, silent assassin. His face was enriched by a goatee, that was well trimmed, and gave him an even greater aura of lordship. His hair was long, pitch-black, and sliced back. Now that's what I call good looks.
He smiles, and it's the kind of smile you never ever think of saying 'no' to.
"Please, mister Franz. Take a sit." he says, and he shows me the other chair, next to the young lady's. I go, and I sit, nodding in salutation to her.
The prince goes to sit on the other side of the desk, and puts his hands together, in a manner of someone praying.
"Lady. Gentleman. Eclipse, this is Franz, Franz, this is Eclipse."
Eclipse. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. We shake hands, and I nod again, while she turns her gaze from me to look at the prince. I do so too.
"You are brought here today, because there is much trouble in the streets these nights. I am afraid that the self proclaimed Belial's Brood has taken over much more territory than it is appropriate. They have started killing and embracing young people all over the city, and doing it without even trying to hide it as well. They are reckless, and they are surely not of the best mental condition. You-" he looks at me "-Are the child of one of the Brood, one of the many we have come across over these recent nights. Yet, you were wise enough to cooperate with us and know what is good for you. I know that you were embraced just yesterday, but, young cainite, you show great promise, or so Nathaniel tells me. And mind you, he is a trustworthy enough source, as well as a judge for these things."
"Eclipse here, has too fallen victim to the Brood's action, maybe in a more.. indirect approach."
Really? what did they do to her?
"They kidnapped my little sister." She says, and her eyes are full of sorrow and need for revenge. I can't escape her gaze.
"We believe Eclipse's sister has been kidnapped by the brood. We need this case to close as soon as possible, young ones. Time is running short."
"And that's where you some in." he's looking at me again.
"You are to aid Eclipse in a job.. You are to go to a certain warehouse, which our Nosferatu informers claim to be a Brood gathering point. You are to go there, and use as much force as is needed to extract valuable information about the Brotherhood, their common places, and why they are doing all this."
And now he has that smirk.. It says... Kill as many as you have to, I'll enjoy each and every killing you do.
"You are free to kill as many as you have to, as long as the required information is gathered."
Oh gods.
"And now.." he gets up slowly, and shows us the door. "Don't let me detain you. You are free to go, Nathaniel will give you whatever gear you may feel inclined to have."
It wasn't a proposal. It's like he used that trick.. We lived -in a manner of words- only to serve that job of his, and it was absolutely right with us. But in any way, I only found it proper to get some revenge on those guys, learn who was the bastard that turned me into a bloodsucker, and help Eclipse find her sister.
We walk out of the room, and there he is, Nathaniel, waiting for us.
"How did it go?"
'Jolly good.' If my words were any flatter they'd be a cheap carpet that some elephant slept on.
"It was alright." that was Eclipse. She tended to look at the floor. It seems that the whole thing was really getting her worried.. Can't blame her really. I lost my parents some years ago, and well, it was hell alright.
"Now, because we do not have much space, given that there are kindred everywhere in search of Brood movement, if you do not mind, you will be residing in the same Haven. That is, the same 'hideout'." that's Nathaniel.
What?
"Fine by me" That's Eclipse. Wow.
'I guess..'
"It's settled then" he's smiling, the bastard. But then again, he always does. I look at Eclipse. She looks at me and smiles, then we're off to our new home.

Johnathan. (a Vampire:the Requiem fanfic)

2007-10-17T05:19:00.000-07:00

Slowly and weakly, I open my eyes. First thing I ask myself is 'what time is it'. Then 'where am I' follows.
I try to move my arms, but i realize they must be tied somewhere round my back. What the hell?..
I turn my attention to the room. Just an old, plain and empty room. Only a lamp on the roof to give it light. I must be sitting on a chair, and I must have had the shit beat out of me, cause damn, I hurt even when I breathe.
I start moaning a bit. How in the blazing hellfires did I get here? And where the fuck is here, exactly?
"Looks like the kid's awake. Heheh." The voice comes from behind me, cold and heavy. Looks like the room was bigger than I thought.
I feel the touch of someone's chin on my right cheek, and he speaks into my ear in a way that makes me sick to my stomach, which I just realized hurts the most.
"Hello, Johnathan. We know all about you. We tied you here tonight to give you the most bitter, yet the sweetest of all curses. We are here because you wanted us to be. We did what we did because it was your choice. You felt like life was treating you bad, and we came to change that. To actually show what it's like when life is not treating you right..."
Apathetically, I ask the voice:
"Meaning?" Damn, my mouth feels like I had cotton balls for lunch. Maybe I did, and these guys fed me it.
The guy starts laughing. It must be a guy, no god would be so cruel as to give such a beastly voice to a woman. Shit, it's like he coughs and chokes at the same time.
"Meaning, Mister Johnathan, that you are one of us now. For better..." he switched ears "... Or for worse"
Fuck, I can almost hear him grin, the motherfucker!
'And who are you again? I'm not sure I got your name' I say.
The guy behind the one that spoke in my ear, the one that said I was awake, seemed to growl or something. He was definitely pissed off at me. The other one, he started laughing again. He must either be enjoying this, or he's losing his patience as well.
"We are what you saw in your worst nightmares as a child, Johnathan. We were the ones going boo a little before you crapped your pants. We are as eternal as night itself."
I'm getting tired of this play.. I need answers.
'So, you're my imaginary friends then?' If irony was solid, it'd hit them like a baseball bat.
He grabs my head so hard it makes my pain even worse, and while I close my jaws and moan irritatedly, he moves so that now he's facing me, and man, he is ugly. His face would be what you got when you remembered of that cat that got squashed by a car the other day. His eyebrows were nonexistent, his lower jaw was longer than natural, his chin was the definition of pointy, and he had that stache that makes you think of all those alchemical pictures of Lucifer.
"Kid. You are going to die. And my friend here-" he lifted the chair i was tied on like it was a plaything, and he turned it so that when he put it down, I was facing a guy that reminded me of a bulldog, sitting on an empty desk "-my friend Carkasso will be more than happy to do the job."
The guy waved a knife, while grinning at me with teeth that would have taken the number one prize in a 'most-resemblance-to-a-shark's-jaw' contest. The other one lifted the chair again, and turned it so that I would face him again.
His face, now that I had a second look at it, was a huge collage of zits, both popped and still-growing, and what looked like infected wounds in general. What's worst, the guy's bald so I can see more of his butt-ugliness.
"Now" he said "Do you have any last words?"
'Yeah' I say.
'You've got red on you.'
The guy flips out and his eyes turn pitch black. He screams at me in some foreign language and he is ready to hit me with his claw-like fingers, when I hear the sound of a door opening, and a gun firing fast like hell. One of the shots gets the rope I was tied with, and my hands are free again, along with the rest of my body. I turn just in time to see my savior cutting the beastly man's head, and the ugly fuck fall to the ground like a sandbag. Few moments later, they turned to ashes. What the...
I get a good look of my savior. Hard to miss him really. His clothes were a formal costume, only made of leather instead of any other material, and all black, from toe to head. His hair was short and black, and his face was surely the best I've seen all day.
I take a small bow, and then ask him what the hell is going on, smiling. He smiles as well, and nudges me to follow him.
We get out of the room, and eventually out of the building, which from what the guy tells me used to be a diner that burned down.
'Who where those guys, and why did they tie me up? Also, who are you now that we're on that subject?' I asked him.
"The name's Nathaniel. Those guys were Brood members, and as they told you, they planned to kill you."
'And how come you appeared out of nowhere to rescue me?'
"Truth be told, I was onto those two ex-faggots from the moment they set foot in my room. So I was planning to catch them red-handed, and terminate their sad unlives."
Excuse me?
'Unlives? What do you mean by that?' oh yeah, i just remembered the guys turned to dust. whoa.
The guy smiles, shows me a car and nudges me to get in. Christ, you expect me to get inside without knowing what's going on in here? He laughs silently, and tells me he'll explain everything while on the road to somewhere safe. Oh well. Better than to just sit here and do nothing.
We get into the car, and the guy steps on it like someone's chasing us. No wait, isn't there someone chasing us? Usually at times like this someone is chasing you 'cause you killed their comrades, 'cause you escaped, or just 'cause he wants you dead. Nah, no cars chasing us. Or motorcycles or anything, for that matter.
'Nathaniel?' I ask. He smiles.
"I liked the name. Don't you?" I shake my head, more out of relief from the whole thing, than out of disagreement.
'So fill me up a little on what's going on. A, who were those guys. B, why did they turn to ash. C, how did I get here. D-'
"How many questions are there in total?" he asks me, and I smile.
'Oh, I could make a list.'
"Alright then, first things first. You are a kindred, one of us."
A what? I must have said that loud.
Nathaniel keeps steering, entering alley after alley, taking me to god knows where, two guys tried to kill me, I don't remember anything about today, and now he says I'm one of them, which is the second time I've heard that in one night. All in all, I've had better afternoons, thank you very much.
"Kindred" he says. "Vampire. Nosferatu, Vampir, Brukolakas, or whatever you want to call it. A blood-drinking monster, a plague of tonight, another one in the Danse Macabre."
Yeah right.
'Alright. And now, no bullshit if you please?'
He laughs again.
"Remember about vampires, and werewolves, and mages and all that? Guess what, they're real. Lucky you." he says. No fucking way.
'No. No I am not.'
"As you wish. Just see if your heart is beating, see how much you can last without air, and wonder how those fellas turned to dust back there."
I instantly put my hand on my chest. Shit! My heart's not beating! Why am I not dead yet? I hold my breath, without really the need to inhale. Minutes pass, until I feel breathing is indeed unnecessary. No way. I must be dreaming. The guy is smiling again.
'So what's the deal? I get to live eternally in a castle or something, just by drinking blood?'
"Nah, those times have passed. Now you get a safe Haven, you make sure you know who's enemy and who's friend, grab a bite every once and a while, and do whatever you want to do."
'So that's it? I only get to drink blood? I mean, can't I transform into a bat or something?'
"No, our clan has much better things, I assure you. Like controlling the minds of the weak, understanding the nature of beasts and communicating with them, as well as Resilience, the ability to have your defenses boosted at times."
Is this for real?
"I assure you, it is." what?! I didn't even say that loud!
"I did not say you did."
I stare at him.
"And you need to get a shadow name.. A nickname if you wish. Something short, something for your victims to remember you, and your former acquaintances to forget."
Hmm...
'Short. Like Nathaniel.'
"Ok, so don't make it short. It's all the same to us."
'I.. I think I'll go with "Franz"..'

Part Seven,B: Gaze.

2007-09-29T02:22:00.000-07:00

The room was cold, as always. Empty, damp, black as the night, and even darker. Everything was as usual. The little desk, the floor, the huge windows, the night life below them. Everything.
Andrew was again looking down at the world, at all the little ants working, clubbing, living and dieing. His face was pale from the lack of sleep, the lights, and the many days he was at home and never went out at day.
He let out a small sigh.
"Our world runs on irony." He said.
Solidus, who was now standing beside hims smirked.
"Poetic justice." he said.
Andrew shook his head.
"Different names for the same thing." Then he smirked as well.
Some moments passed. Then Andrew broke the silence once more.
"I wake up, every day. And every day, I feel as bad as one could feel if someone close to them had died. Yet no one has. And I don't know. Why does my heart feel so bad? Why do I feel so empty inside? Why is it that I feel an inexplicable burden inside my chest? And why is it that I haven't cried yet?"
Solidus' smirk fainted.
"Young one. You are most unlike all the others. When everyone else drank beverages and thought of models and the like scum, you sat and you wrote poems about pure, passionate love."
"While everyone else looked at fancy clothes, cars and jewelery to make their spiritual emptiness seem less, you sat alone in a dark room thinking about what can be done to reach spiritual awakening and help others free themselves as well."
"When everyone else thought that they were chained down and striped of their freedom, it was you (although with the help of Quetzalcoatl) who told them that freedom is there, and that they simply haven't thought of reaching it."
"You always knew without knowing. You always saw without looking. Therefore you must know by now, and I am sure that I need not remind you, that everything comes at a price. If you are unable to bear the consequences, then you must surely die, either spiritually or physically. As they say, 'if you want to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs'."
Andrew nodded. And waited for Solidus to carry on.
"When you wake up, and you feel as though the world has forsaken you, it is merely another small, yet seemingly gigantic obstacle set in your path. You should not give in to your sorrow, and you know that, yet still you do. And as you delve deeper in the doom of your own thoughts and feelings, you find that you have died."
"And when you died, again without knowing it, you emerged from your own dusts, resurrected like the Phoenix. Stronger. Faster. Better. More capable. So it was, and so it will be. Until, of course, you reach Awakening at last. "
"As for the burden you feel in your chest, and the emptiness that you have allowed to come over you, there is only one remedy, though when you reach for it it slips away, and when finally you turn your gaze elsewhere, it comes back to sit at your finger, like a beautiful butterfly bearing the salt of the earth."
Andrew was still looking outside, though he was lost in Solidus' words. Then his lips parted and he said in a low voice:
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."
Solidus nodded.
"It all comes down to that, doesn't it?" Andrew asked.
"Until further notice, yes." Solidus smirked.
Andrew thought of all this for a moment.
"When was it, dear Solidus? When was it that we met for the very first time? I was such a naive fool then.."
"It was apparently four or five years ago. And you were no fool, judging from everyone else. You can trust me on that. Not every ten-year-old has the ability to create a universe in its head, or make it rain or arrange for certain things to happen."
Andrew's eyes half closed, and his eyebrows united in an angry look, which soon faded.
"I wonder.. How many others like me there are.."
"Not many, I can assure you. But that doesn't mean you're better than them. You are just different. Get cocky and you lose it all."
They nodded, still not looking at each other.
In the background, Chris let out a wail of lament.
What goes around comes around.
As above so below.
It' only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything.
Only after disaster can we be resurrected.
Same thing, different names, Andrew thought.

Part Seven: Memory

2007-09-23T13:35:00.000-07:00

"If you keep it up like this, you're gonna end slicing your wrist or something." Solidus said.
Fox raised his head enough to look at the one who spoke to him. He let a small sigh, and he shrugged. Then he opened his mouth again and again, but the words didn't come out until the third or fourth time. He was merely a step away from crying.
"I.. I can't help it. I don't know. I am an idiot. And I recognize that in my self. Alright? I just.. I..." He left a small whine.
Solidus rolled his eyes.
"Oh, do come on. There is only so much a man can take."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about!"
"No. I am talking about your excessive whining and bitching about some lost or unanswered love. I mean, at least, if you're gonna cry, then do it. Go on. That's fine with me and you know it. I endorse crying and the shedding of tears. It brings people closer to their salvation and freedom."
Fox lowered his head again.
"I... Can't.. Cry.."
Solidus was clearly losing his patience.
There was the sound of a bottle breaking, and occasionally the shouting of "For gods' sakes!" from a little behind the two.
Andrew walked in front of both of them, holding another bottle of beer, and he went and sat at the desk's chair, putting his feet on the desk.
They were both looking at him.
"Wha'? Y'got a pro'lem wi' that?" Was Andrew's response to their stare, and then he drunk the whole bottle nonstop. He kept sucking for some time, and he had to shake it a bit to realize that it was in fact empty.
"Aaaaahhh shit." He went to get another one, and soon after he had five bottles on him.
The other two looked down.
"There. See what I mean? When one is down, the other is down too. Get over it. It's the only way. People change. Shit happens." Solidus said after a while.
"No. The people I know, the ones that I'm sad for, they never change their beliefs and habits. They only shed their skin and make a new, different colored one." Fox replied.
"Cheers to that." Andrew said in the background. "By the way, where the heck is Chris?"
"Master." Came a voice from behind him. It surprised him so much he spat his beer on his legs in front of him and let the bottle fall on his shirt.
"Damn! I've told you not to do that when I'm feeling down!"
"Master." Was Chris's reply.
"Guys, what is it all about? Seriously now."
They looked at each other.
"I miss her. A lot. As a friend, as a lover, as a spirit, as a whole existence. I miss her smile, her frown, her warmth, her cold, her hug, her voice, her eyes, her attention, the little slices of her madness, the random little bits, all the good and the relatively bad moments we've had. Everything." Said Fox, still looking down.
Andrew shrugged, and then said "Cheers to that" again. Then he opened another bottle using the ring we wore on his thumb.
"You know.. I love. I know that. I love. now what does that make me? A transmitter. And what completes a transmitter? A receiver. And there is no one in that position. In short. I feel that no one wants this love. Therefore, I. Feel. Useless. I need someone to love. I need someone to love me back. I need the circuit to be complete again. The 1 and the 0. The Man and the Woman. The Moon and the Sun. Sol And Luna."
Solidus laughed as theatrically as he could.
"Listen to you. You were the one that said 'we must hit bottom', 'we want to hit bottom', 'we'll hit bottom', 'it's only after disaster that we can be ressurected'. And now you're crying over the loss of something, even if that something possesses the high place of love. You said, 'you wanna make an omelet, you gotta break some eggs'. And yet you're crying over that egg." Solidus said.
"Thing is, there is no omelet."
"That's because, you spoiled it. You couldn't wait. You went and fucked everything up."
"Hey hey hey." Andrew interrupted him, "We had no other choice. No reasonable one, anyway. You know how it was. You know how it would be. Things had to be like they are now. Eventually. "
"Exactly!" Solidus grinned. "Therefore, if things were meant to be that way, and it was actually your choice, stop going on and on about it. Carry on with your life. Where you are now, you can't even imagine what the bottom will be like. Stop trying to control everything and just give up."
Fox nodded.
Chris too.
Andrew let out a big belch, and he threw the bottle on the floor, some distance away from him. Then, he got up, he started to loosen up his shoes, he removed them, and then did the same to his socks.
"What are you-?"
"-Sh. Sh sh sh." Andrew had his eyes closed now, as he walked towards the broken pieces of glass that had fallen like a diamond storm on the floor. He walked, and everyone could hear the uniting of flesh and glass. And he walked. And then he walked some more. And when he finally he passed the whole field of glass shards, he let a small grunt, and started falling to his front.
Chris grabbed him before he fell to the floor, and carried his sleeping body to a nearby bed, where he silently lied Andrew down, made his bed, and removed the shards from his feet, one by one.
The others watched.
A thunder was heard in the background and shortly after, rain was heavily falling down.
It was red.

Part Six,B: Sleep.

2007-09-21T08:05:00.000-07:00

I open my eyes, and feel the warmth of waking up, and the burden that it is.
I arise, I walk around. A walking, talking zombie. My pc is on.
Wow.
I open up msn. Why do i still do that again? Oh, yeah. Right.
"I awaiteth the ressurection of the dead", or something like that. I read that in greek anyway.
My eyes are not fully open, and I half wish i hadn't slept, or that i had insomnia or something like that. I stare at the computer screen, and suddenly the msn window opens. Did I open that? Oh, yeah. Right.
Nobody's in. If I expected the opposite, then I would surely be crazier than i am now. I still stare at the screen. I play around with my desktop and its folders. Oh, the glorious joy of doing nothing.
Too bad i can't see it anywhere.
I look at my watch. A second later, I can't remember what i just saw. I look at my watch again. And again, and again, and again. I can't seem the information to stay in my brain for more than two seconds.
It's one of those days again..
I realize my mouth is open, contrary to my half closed eyes. I click my way through some folders and a song starts playing.
"Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to, Strawberry Fields..."
Take me.
Deliver me.
I don't want to be alone anymore.
I am just so bored and tired.
This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.
"Hi Andy!! How are you?" That's my 23 year old cousin. Her name is Debby, and I don't remember if she really is that old.
Hi Deb. I'm doin' alright. You?
"I'm ok, a little tired from classes, but I'm better now." She smiles.
I laugh. I know, I say. School is equally annoying, boring, and time-wasting.
She nods and says, lunchtime's in 10 minutes.
I nod as well, my eyes still half closed and my mouth starting to look normal again.
Did I go to school today? No, wait. Let me rephrase that. What day is it today?
Some seconds pass.
Friday.
I look outside and it's afternoon, and therefore I must have gone to school. I must have taken the bullshit from the skinny, body-builder-like old lady who decided that what she said instantly was, or became interesting. I must have half fallen asleep whilst listening to the short, fat old man with the large moustache that seems to have gotten the idea that physics is a good subject, most probably during a not so good wank-off. I must have decided to take a two-hour break from the bullocks that pass for education, and sat down and cleared my mind looking in the sky and singing the first thing that came to my head.
After all, it's afternoon.
This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.
My eyes open just a little more, so that now everything is a little less blurry.
I close my eyes, and when I open them again, I look down and i see an empty plate with some leftovers in it, I look around and I see mom, dad, and my cousin sitting round the table.
Had I eaten? What did I eat? Am I hungry?
I look at the fridge. It is amusing how it can have so many things in it, but not a single thing for me.
"What are you doing? You just ate." That's mom.
I just wanted some water. Fridge door's closed. So are my eyes, and again when I open them I am sitting in my chair, and staring at my computer's screen again. It seems that me and Quetz were talking about something. I try to shrug.
"So, we're on for tonight?"
What?
"tonight, man. Sleepover at my house."
Oh, yeah. Yeah. I'll be there.
My arms feel weak. I look at my watch. I can remember the time I just saw this time. It's 17:49 and 46 seconds.
Wow.
And I tilt my head back, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. And I can't stop thinking about her. Her, with her gorgeous little face, with one of the best characters (if not the best). I can't stop thinking about her. One of my friends says I'm in love. I don't know. I think I am. I got all the symptoms, my friend says. I get lost in my thoughts very often, I feel lonely all the time, especially when I am between others. I think of a certain person too much.
I am Little Monstrous Andy's complete lack of surprise. Or feelings, for that matter.
Today is simply not my day.
"The magical mystery tour is coming to take you away, take you today..."
Pfff.
I wish.

Part Six: Mirror.

2007-09-16T01:16:00.000-07:00

Andrew was out, going to pay a visit to Quetz.
Smirking and walking in a fast pace, he thought about what would really be done that night. He thought of Iris, he thought of Quetz, he thought about Jack, Fox and the others.
Reaching the doorstep he closed his eyes and lifted his head, which was something that helped him calm. Though he didn't have a clue when was the first time he actually thought of doing that, or when it was that it actually calmed him for the first time.
He rang the doorbell. Not long after, Quetz's brother opened the door, greeted Andrew with a smile, and showed him that both Quetz and Iris were downstairs.
I am Jack's Complete lack of surprise, Andrew thought.
He nodded, and Quetz's brother vanished from sight in a few seconds. Then, Andrew descended the stairs and went to the small and a little damp room he has come to know eyes closed, love with half his brain and half his heart, and get used to as if it was his own room.
He knocked and entered. When you enter a room that you consider yours, you never wait for any other person's approval.
The moment he opens the door, Iris was on the other side, like him thinking she was the only one opening the door at the moment. They hugged. Andrew closed his eyes for about a second, then opened them again and looked at Quetz. A serious look in their face, they nodded.
Once the embrace was over, they sat down and started to talk.
"I'm so happy!" Iris says.
Again, I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.
"We did it! We called forth Ignatius!"
Andrew turned to look at Quetz. Supposing that they thought Cornelius was the key to everything, he didn't look so happy, or calm for that matter.
"I didn't see him. I didn't hear him. Iris did all the job. She saw him. She talked to him. She heard him." Quetz announced. Of all the times he talked, 80% of it seemed as if he was announcing something, rather than talking to you about it. His word was law. But laws are to be changed, updated or deleted, accordingly.
Andrew turns his head towards Iris.
She opened her mouth to say something, but again Quetz was the one speaking.
"One and a bloody half hour. Of what? Of an idiotic treasure-hunt! He -if what Iris is true- was mocking as, playing with us, telling us absurd riddles and telling us what we already know. One. And a half. Hours. Walking around blindly looking for a pin in hay. I don't need this. We want clear, straight up answers. We are only going to do this one more time and if the same things happen, then it's over. I have neither the time nor the mood to keep this thing up."
Andrew shrugged and rolled his eyes a bit.
"We have decided-"
Raven came in through the door.
I am Jack's misinformed negligence.
Raven greets us all with his professional little smile. Andrew always thought that his name didn't suit him. Raven is a cool name for a goth. For a metalhead. For a forgotten artist that used to play dark music after midnight, so loud the neighbors all called the police at the same time. But he, he was not any of these. He was the exact opposite. A preacher of holiness and divination, a priest-angel that was here to commune with his god, or God according to him, and to unlock the secrets of magic as well.
Raven.
He did wear black though, and he was tall and slim. Maybe that was it, Andrew thought.
The important thing was that he was in front of them, and he was waiting for something.
"Sit." Quetz showed him a chair. Raven Sat.
"As I was saying, we are here together to try again. One last time."
He went on and on and on. Things they all knew. Things they all concluded to, maybe not so long ago.
Andrew was lost in his thoughts: Ignatius. Iris. Jack. At some point, he saw them all stand up and figured it was time for that last try. But no. Quetz wanted something more.
"We need a symbol of clarity. A symbol that will allow us to see him, hear him, talk to him, and for him to tell us the truth, clearly, and without riddles."
Iris looked at him.
"What I mean is, if you are the only one that sees and hears him, then boom. All gone. We want to have communication with him. All of us."
Iris nodded.
I am Jack's wall-breaking boredom and tiredness.
"No." Andrew said.
"What we need is a way to store more energy. If you did your best, and still Ignatius was comprehended by only Iris, then we need to add more energy and help him help us. More energy, more Ignatius. Simple, and as always underneath our noses."
Quetz agreed. Iris too. Raven couldn't dream of disagreeing.
It was decided then. Using their new resources they started again.
Andrew looked at them. They all closed their eyes. Quetz made some signs in the air, but he must have been joking, because they were -seemingly- random, and he was half laughing. Raven was taking his usual stance, as if he had killed a thousand men and craved redemption. Iris was stretched over on Quetz's bed, and she too had her eyes closed.
All of them, each one using a different gesture, were pointing towards the large, charcoal-drawn symbol. If someone had watched them, he would laugh his heart out. If that certain someone decided to stay long enough for this to end, he would consider himself changed.
Andrew closed his eyes as well, and started making Ignatius's symbol on the air, the way a priest purifies water. He then saw -with eyes still closed- that the symbol was on fire from the energy it accepted.
"Mirror and candle" Andrew and Iris said.
They placed the mirror in the middle of the symbol, then lit a candle and placed it in the middle of the mirror.
Andrew smiled. Indeed, the mirror was a receiver of ten time the energy the symbol could bear.
After two and a half minutes, they all felt that something was there.
Iris, eyes-closed still, said that she heard and felt him.
Raven said he did so too.
Andrew looked at the mirror, and then his gaze followed the dark, shadowy, semi-material silhouette that he knew was Ignatius. He opened his mouth to talk. His voice was coarse. The voice of someone who hadn't talked for years, and hadn't drank any water for an equal amount of time.
He was looking right in the eyes of Ignatius. Or at least, where the eyes should have been.
Then, a moment of complete black. Andrew lost his connection to this world.
He saw Ignatius's figure in front of him. Andrew ran towards him and hugged him, crying.
"Oh, Ignatius! My beloved friend! I'm Sorry! I know that doesn't change anything, but it was not me! I was not myself! I-"
"It's alright, Jack. Don't worry. Really."
Andrew sat there, looking at Ignatius's beautiful eyes, and actually thought for a moment that he wasn't who he was right now. He looked at his hands and noticed he was wearing gloves. Mister Jack's gloves. He looked down, and he was wearing boots. Mister Jack's boots. He heard something ticking lowly from the pocket of his coat. Held it in his hand and opened it: a pocket watch. He scratched his chin. No long-since-shaved facial hair. Only a well preserved circle beard.
He looked at Ignatius again.
"I was a fool... If only i had more control!"
" I already told you. It is alright. It had to be like this. We reached our zenith, and we needed to fall a distance equal to the one we ascended. You did what was best at the time."
Jack was shedding tears again.
"F.. Forgive me, my friend..."
"I do, Jack. I forgive you. You are free. And you have my eternal gratitude for being so close to me."
Jack's face brightened up. He wiped the tears off with the back side of his glove, and hugged Ignatius again.
"Thank you my friend. Thank you."
Ignatius smiled, and started walking away.
Jack took his top hat and held it on his chest, as he watched Ignatius go.
And suddenly, the darkness faded away, giving its place to light, and a well known voice.
"-tell us! How can we reach it!"
I am Jack's Rapid Eye Movement.
"Tell us! How can we do it?" Quetz shouts.
Andrew was still looking at where Ignatius eyes were. He then realized that everyone was looking at him, especially Quetz, who was seemingly asking him.
Andrew looked at him, then at his hands, at his feet, and where his coat's pocket would have been.
"I think we lost him." Raven says. Iris agreed.
Quetz lowered his eyes, and let out a small sigh.
"C'est finnit." Andrew declares.
And if that certain someone decided to stay long enough for this to end, he would consider himself changed.
Nothing was solved.
Andrew later knew, without anyone telling him, that while he was seeking redemption from Ignatius as Jack, he was also being a vessel for Ignatius's words. He answered every question except the half. he didn't even remember what the question was.
They were wiser now. It was always like this. Nothing was solved. They just had a little more of those long lost pieces to complete the never-ending puzzle that was unlocking the power to bind the world to one's will.
Andrew smiled. It was that bitter smile again. He was, unaware of it, one step closer to his homeland.
He then lost himself in the beauty of the evening.

Part Five,b: Smirk.

2007-09-11T09:52:00.000-07:00

Andrew looks outside the massive windows that cover the black room, barren, lifeless and empty of furniture room.
He smirked.
Chris was standing right beside him. He wasn't there a second ago. He wasn't anywhere a second ago. But once he was there, standing beside Andrew, making the same smirk, breathing at the same time as him (not that he had to breathe), standing with his weight on the same foot as him, and looking at the same places as him, he was always there.
Andrew let a small, muffled sound of laughter. It was a bitter, internal sound, made to show neither happiness, nor comfort, not even warmth.
Chris let out the exact same sound, as if Andrew had laughed that little bitter laugh one more time, only through Chris's mouth.
"It's only after you've lost everything-" Andrew started.
"-That you're free to do anything." Chris finished.
They both smirked again.
Andrew fell backwards, slowly as if someone had put the world in slow motion, and instead of landing on his back, he found himself sitting in a comfortable, black, leather sofa. His eyes never left the window. So did Chris's.
"I believe, dear friend. That we have never been so close to the bottom before. Never before did we fall so much. Never Before did we hurt so much, that our bodies, and especially our brains could not accumulate any more pain, and we felt invincible.
We are close to the bottom. Yet where we are now, we can't even imagine what the bottom will be like. We have absolutely nothing to lose. Nothing that we care about so much that it will be a loss if we actually lost it. Except maybe Quetz.
We are all, but we are nothing. As below so above. We only lose what we gain. We may even gain more.
Ladies and gentlemen! Come! See the man that left his world! The man that hurt his Angel, his Goddess, his Muse, his Breath and Soul, the one who held his heart! The man who hurt her so bad, she thinks he is an asshole. The man who is on his way down and he's going mighty fine, if I may say so myself!"
Andrew laughed again, a little more heartily, but still, bitter enough to make a wall cry, and a bolt of iron bend.
Chris spoke now.
"Deliver us from material possession. Deliver us from unwanted everyday needs of the middle worm. Only after disaster can we be ressurected. Nothing is static. Everything is falling apart. You are not your bank accounts,. You are not the clothes you wear. You are not the contents of your wallet. You are not your bowel cancer. You are not your grande latte. You are not the car you drive. You are not your fucking khakis. You have to give up. You have to realize that someday you'll die. Untill you know that, you are useless to us."
Andrew smiled. He was boiling with passion unknown to many.
"Tyler Durden" he said.
"Chuck Palahniuk" Chris said, grinning.
"Amen brother. Amen."

Part Five: First Morning

2007-09-10T04:40:00.000-07:00

Andrew opened his eyes, and looked at his watch.
14:15.
Why has time become such an important thing for him? Nevertheless, it would soon cease to be so.
But then again, no. School was starting.
Again.
Andrew shook his head, got up, and was a little surprised to see that his feet were weaker than any other day he woke up.
He walked to the bathroom. He turned on the light (there was no way he could see anything without light, having just woken up), he took a piss, he washed his hands, and then he looked in the mirror.
Eyes red, and around them black circles even a panda bear would envy, his skin pale, the color of someone who has died a little while ago but probably paid little to no attention to it, and kept doing what he always did.
He stroked his hair a bit.
It was absolutely no use. The infinite mess that he called hair was there to stay, exactly as messy as it wanted.
Andrew shrugged, and turned around to leave. He didn't brush his teeth. He wouldn't be bothered to.
He greeted his mother with a slow and nearly silent "mhmm hmmhmm", and went back to his room.
He looked at the first thirty two pages of Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club he had printed (and read) yesterday, and he let a little smile.
Even he didn't know why.
"Gooooood moring, Vietnam" he said as he closed the door.
Three faces looked at him, sorrow, pain, and anger depicted on them as obvious as wearing a sign about each one's feelings.
Fox was wearing black. Now that's something Andrew didn't see every day.
Solidus was wearing white. Andrew knew that where other people wore black to show their sorrow, Solidus wore white. Otherwise, he would seem to be in eternal mourning.
Chris... Well, Chris was wearing a formal costume, which showed a lot, given that Chris never even wore a shirt.
They all looked at him.
"And how is the lovely bunch today?" Andrew asked.
Fox raised an eyebrow.
"How do you suppose we are? We haven't been like this for a very long time. And you had to go and spoil it all. Ruin it all." Fox was really, really in a bad mood.
"It was crucial. As well as inevitable. It was not entirely the boy's fault." Solidus said.
"And I believe you are forgetting, dear Fox, that I didn't do it. We did this together. All of us." Andrew said, an expression of apathy drawn on his face.
"Solidus? How about you?"
"I have been worse, kid. But I have been better as well. Worry not about me. Worry more about yourself, and where you go from here."
Andrew nodded.
"Chris?"
Chris looked towards the windows, but because he was still wearing his goggles that hid his eyes from sight, he had to point at them.
Andrew looked at the windows. He was again in the room with no doors or exits save for the windows. The town was living its fast paced life as usual, and despite the fact that it was noon, the sky was that of a really dark evening turning into night.
He started paying attention to the clouds, and then realized what it was that Chris was showing him.
The clouds were moving in an abnormally fast pace, only to gather in the middle of the sky and form the face of someone wearing a crown of thorns on his head. The cloudy figure of the man turned a piece of it to red, which looked like sliding down his cheek from his eye, as if he cried a tear of blood.
Andrew looked at Chris. They both nodded.
He walked around a little, seemingly thinking about something. Then he stopped, and he clapped his hands once, in the manner of one who has thought things over and has come up with an interesting solution.
"My good friends. I feel your sorrow deep inside, as much as you feel mine. Yesterday, we walked into the edge of a cliff, and we dived. We had no regrets. No worries. No hard feelings. Not anymore.
And despite all of the laws of this world, despite the Anima Mundi, despite what passes for common knowledge, that once you fall, you die, we knew better. We took that otherwise final step, with no sorrow, and no happiness to it. Exactly like Odin when he plucked out his own eye and threw it in the Well Of Mimir, trading it for all the knowledge in the world, stating his place as Father of Gods (at least until someone else stole the title from him).
Despite all chances, we survived. We lie there, in the depths of our would-be grave, and we are powerless. Full of wounds. Broken bones. Our heads hurt like someone hit us with a sledgehammer repeatedly. Yet, inside, we start to see..
We begin to realize, that what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger. That, and the fall did not kill us. Imagine. When our wounds are healed. When the pain stops. When our heads ache no more. Then, we will be stronger. And we will continue our quest for knowledge, power, and control. Three things, that are barely distinguished from each other by a very fine line.
Like the first monkeys shot into space. We take the knife and we sacrifice our selves, only to return stronger. To help others be strong. To awaken and help others reach awakening, as well as learning from others, and awakening with their help.
As for.."
Now Andrew looked down, bitterly, not because he thought he was hurt (he didn't mind), but because he felt that he had hurt her. So did the others, and a few seconds afterwards, Andrew continued.
"As for our beloved Stephanie. It appears that in this leap of faith, we forced her to jump with us, only from the exact opposite side of the cliff. But she fell. And she broke bones, she gained bruises, and she aches, just like us. And maybe even more so.
But.
What has risen, may fall.
What has fallen, may, and will rise again.
Therefore, if we assume that this was something more than a traumatic experience for her, she will definitely gain knowledge from this leap of faith, as i said before.
Brothers. We have to be strong. We all know it is a terrible loss, but we also know, that it's only after you've lost everything that you are free to do anything. We must be patient, and await our recovery from this sad state of affairs, which we have brought to ourselves, as much as we did to Stephanie.
We have endured much. So have others. What distinguishes us from others, is the fact that we have come to understand our pain. To learn from it consciously. We have actually learned to learn. Be the teacher pain, loss, suffering, a simple mistake, or the joy of the world. We are survivors. And we -"
The door to Andrew's room opened, and in came his father, with his enormous belly, and the silly grin he always had on his face.
"How is my young little lad? Eh? What's up? How you doin'?" He said, his gigantic stomach bouncing up and down as he spoke.
Andrew looked at him in a manner that you look at someone when they either bother you for absolutely no reason, interrupting something they would never dream of understanding, you want them tortured immediately for this blasphemy, or all of the above.
His father's mouth closed, and he walked out of the room, slowly.
Fox, Chris and Solidus were shaking their heads.
"And we will continue to be so.." Andrew said, eyes closed and eyebrows lowered.
They all nodded in agreement.
Andrew went to the windows to look outside.
He thought that somewhere out there, even if that somewhere was nowhere near by human standards, there was she.
Self improvement, he thought, was self-destruction.
As above so below.
He turned around to see the others.
Solidus was wearing gray.
Chris had thrown away the all the parts of the formal costume he didn't need, he had cut the pants (probably using his hands) so that they looked like shorts, and he had undone all the buttons of his shirt.
Fox was staring at the floor. he let a small sigh, and suddenly the black coat he was wearing turned to it's usual leathery brown. He left the remaining attire black.
Andrew smiled, and turned around to face the windows again, lost in his thoughts.

In Memoriam

2007-09-09T08:50:00.000-07:00

09/09/07.

I will never forget you.

Part Four: Godmother's Birthday.

2007-09-08T13:10:00.000-07:00

Andrew held the bunch of flowers he just bought a little while ago from the flower shop in his left hand, and rang the doorbell of his Godmother's apartment.
A short pause, the sound of the door being unlocked, and then his godmother, wearing her nightdress, looked at the unexpected visitor with a gaze full of curiosity and astonishment.
Andrew gave her the flowers.
"This is for you, my most charming lady." he smiled
His godmother smiled, and thanking him with sentences so many and long that she lost him a little after the first two "thank you"s, took the flowers and showed him the balcony table where he went and sat.
"So, what's up, Alex?" Andrew said, clearly happy about their meeting.
His godmother's name was Alexandra, and she was just turning 32. She had middle-length curly brown hair, and a friendly little face. Andrew has known her since she was 28, so they were really familiar with each other. They were more friends than godmother-godson. So, Andrew always talked to her absolutely casually, as he would to any other friend of his.
Alexandra was going here and there, sweeping and moping.
"I'm very sorry for the mess, I'm cleaning up because I'm waiting for some people to come by this evening.." She said.
Andrew laughed.
"Please, Alex, as if we are strangers, and i will judge you solely out of the act of cleaning your house, which in any way shows that you are a good housewife."
They both laughed.
"These flowers are really pretty! How many lilliums are in there?"
"I'd say ten. Didn't count them. I also told the guy to put two roses in there. One for you, and one for George*."
"Lovely! Thank you ever so much!"
Andrew made a small sign with his hand, indicating that it was no big deal.
"Coffee?" Alex asked.
"Yes please! One of your delicious Fredos will do just fine."

Andrew checked his watch.
18:45.
Just on time, he thought.
He continued walking towards one of Rhodos's ** greatest structures, the Aquarium. He knew that his most precious angel was there, unaware of his presence on the island which she visited for just two days.
Steph...
His smile grew wider and he was walking faster now. He checked his mobile phone to make sure he had credit.
After listening to the boring voice of the answering machine, he put his mobile back in his pocket, and shrugged.
At least it's enough for a call. It won't be a long one anyway.
It was a sunny, cloudless day, though he could have sworn that the month was one of the winter ones. He didn't stop to think that it was September.
He bought a ticket, told the guy to keep the change and went inside the aquarium.
That place held many memories for him, for the limited and rare times he had visited Rhodos, he always went there to see the many species of fish the aquarium held, and especially that shark, which got bigger and bigger every time he visited.
Irrelevant.
He continued walking, and took a right in the little junction there was at some point. He'd end up in the same room anyway.
He saw her.
My love, my angel, my breath and soul, my muse, my Steph...
His heart was beating faster than that time he got hit by a car (but obviously survived).
He heard her voice, a voice that could not be mistaken for any other, for no other voice held so much melody and music in his ears as hers.
He took his mobile in his hand and pressed some buttons in less than a second.
It was ringing.
The girl in front of him picked up her phone.
A soft "Yes?" was heard from both his phone and from in front of him.
"Look behind you."
The girl did what she was told and her eyes, as well as her mouth opened in surprise.
"Andrew!"
He quickly moved towards her, as she did so towards him, and they embraced each other in a passionate and-

"-ilk in your coffee?" Alex said.
Andrew tried to focus, but the best he could do was look at his godmother and let out a primal sound that sounded like "wha'?"
"I asked: do would you like some milk in your coffee?" Alex said, a little impatiently.
"Huh? Oh, yes. Yes. Milk. Coffee. That." Was Andrew's response.
"Is something wrong? I've been talking to you for at least five minutes and Ididn't get any answer.. You were lost in your very own space-time continuum again, Andy."
Andrew looked around. No Steph. No Aquarium. Nowhere close to Rhodos. It was barely beyond 17:00, and it was September the 8th.
He took the coffee Alex made him and started drinking, lost in the thought that all he experienced was, too, just a thought.
Alex asked him something.
Andrew didn't get a single word. In fact, he could have sworn that someone has asked him about something, but that was that. No sign of comprehension beyond that.
"Yes. It's really good. Thank you" He finally managed to say.

*George: Alex's husband.
**Rhodos: A Greek island. Not to be confused with Rhode Island.

Part Three: The Plan.

2007-08-31T13:04:00.000-07:00

Andrew united his hands, in a manner of someone praying, and rested his chin on them.
"Tell me again, this plan of yours. Supposedly, we heard what Jack said. Supposedly, we'll listen to him. But I have come to trust you. And you know that. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here. So tell me. What is your own, clear and undistorted opinion on this matter, Anna's."
Close to his ear, so much that he could hear his breath, was Solidus, who was never there, but once he was, he had always been. And he was now behind him, lowered to speak right in Andrew's ear.
"Are you... Sure... About this?" Solidus said, smiling deviously. Andrew could nearly hear that smile. He simply nodded.
"Young one, where we've come, we haven't done so because we were what passes for "good" all the time. You know, as I know that there have been... Dark... Times. As you know, we regret nothing. Everything happens for a reason. And Sometimes, it is inevitable, that, if you want to save someone you love, you have to hurt them."
"Therefore, my plan is simple. Short. And you don't have to like it. Not upon the first time of hearing it, anyway. What I think is best to do, is something usual, and perfectly normal, given a tiny little twist..." Solidus's smile turned into a grin, and although Andrew did not turn around, he could swear he saw his eyes glowing a demonic red. He was now speaking against Andrew's other ear.
"Tell her the truth. Not one word held untold. Tell her. Answer Whatever she asks with the complete and utter truth. Be remorseless. Show no mercy. They say mercy is for the weak. I never believed in this seriously, but in our case, it will be a million times better not to show mercy."
"Show her her faults. Show her where she was wrong. Point out the things that she has ruined, and the things she never got good at. Pick on her, if you may call it that. But. Know, that because you were the one who told her, and because (as she says) she has feelings for you, because of that, she will understand. Her sorrow will soon come to an end, and she will try to improve at everything she was told she was not good at. Making sure good things stay as they are, and lesser things become better."
Andrew nodded, separated his hands, and turned to look at where Solidus was.
There was no one there.
"Thank you, Solidus. As always, you have been a great help. I shall take into consideration Jack's words, and merge them with your advice to come up with the most profitable use of both, I assure you."
Solidus smiled, and made a short bow.
"I am always here, when you require my aid. And to be quite honest, young one, I am always here, even if you do not require my aid, nor if i do not require yours. I am just.. Always here"
Andrew smiled at the empty room.

Part Two: Decision.

2007-08-30T10:36:00.000-07:00

Solidus opened the briefcase. Once he did, a strange, eerie melody filled the room, very much like an instrumental piece frequently used in Victorian England, whenever a ball was held.
The music grew louder and louder, and quite oddly moved its focus from here to there, giving the audience the sensation that the orchestra playing the tune was moving fast from one corner of the room to the other.
From the wall right in front of all of them, a figure seemed to materialize, while walking towards them, it head lowered and its steps determined and unstoppable.
His eyes were concealed from his black top hat with a red ribbon surrounding it, instead of the usual black. He wore a full formal Victorian costume, complete with a cape and a walking stick with a leaden skull at the end.
He stopped in the middle of the room, his gaze still lowered, and with a voice that could bend mortals to his will, would he wish so, said:
"You know you don't have to do that every time to summon me, my good Solidus.. You know how i die, every time i hear that song..." he was grinning.
"I know. but still, not a lot talented artists exist nowadays. I'd rather listen to this.." he showed the room with his hands "..Than those pitiful humans' songs." Solidus said with a smile.
The stranger, now fully materialized, burst out in laughter, tilting his head back and revealing his face fully now:
He had round-beard, like Solidus, he had long, curly black hair, and as he laughed, he, like Chris, seemed to have some certain teeth in a much bigger size than an average person's.
"Master! Oh master! They had to call you, didn't they! Oh, I told them! I told them! But did they listen to me? Nay! Oh thee, the protector of all that's-"
"I see that my young Chris is with you as well..." Chris was still rambling, ignoring everything around him, waving his hands, and falling on his knees and getting up again.
The Stranger looked at fox.
"Ah... and my little Shadowless is here as well?"
Fox made a small bow.
The Stranger walked towards the chair where Andrew was. He put his hands on Andrews shoulders, he looked him in the eye, and then he placed his hands on Andrew's cheeks, lowering the latter's head. Then he kissed Andrew's forehead and he stood back.
Andrew said nothing, but he was still looking in the eyes the one who seemed to welcome his presence in a room where he shouldn't have been in the first place.
"Mister Jack, we're in a quite difficult situation here.. I assure you, were not things serious, we would have not called you." Fox said, as Solidus took a piece of paper and a pen out of the briefcase, and then closed it. He put the pen and paper down, he crossed his fingers and listened to the discussion.
"My child, you know that what is your business, is mine as well." Jack smiled, as the pen in front of Solidus moved with a will of its own, writing down on the paper exactly what Jack had just said.
"Speak. Tell me of this.. situation you are in..."
"We will take part in summoning Ignatius's spirit, and we are curious of whether the ritual will be successful, and whether he will be willing enough to enlighten us with answers we have not.." Fox said.
"Trust me, child, the words that will come out of my old friend will be true.. I will be there with you, as you four already know, and I will intervene when i will. Worry not about such petty things such as the summoning failing. It will undoubtedly not fail, should you put some effort to it. Next problem, if you please. I was rather enjoying where I was before you brought me here. Not that I have trouble with your company, but.. You understand."
They all nodded at the same time, expect Chris, how was still saying what he thought were prayers, or sentences that made perfect sense.
"Next, is the matter of our once beloved Anna" Solidus announced. Fox leaned his head forward.
"Aah.. Princess Anna.. How is she, these young and confused days?" Jack asked, a smile on his face.
"She denies maturity with every chance she gets. And that, being something he have tolerated for log, is starting to disturb us beyond comprehension.." Fox said.
"I can't stand her, sometimes, you know. I mean, I understand that she is two years younger than me in this world, but still... It seems as if she is not able to make a decision." Andrew said, still looking at Jack in the eye.
Jack raised an eyebrow, tilted his walking cane a bit, and then sat on air, as if a comfortable chair was really what was that Jack had sat on.
"My dear Andreas.. You know. You know, but you neglect the facts. You too, were like this. and worse. I understand that at your age, you are looking for maturity, and the ability to make things easier than they are, and making decisions like a grown man or woman can make.. But really, do you not remember yourself when you were at her age? Do you not remember you did not have us, as we did not have you?"
"I do, Jack." at the sound of Andrew pronouncing Jacks name without the words "mister", "lord", or "sir" in front, they all looked a bit surprised. Even Chris, who looked at Andrew for a small moment, then continued his incoherent talk.
"I do. I was young, naive, a mere idiot in the hands of some.. I understand this. But her? We've put all our trust in her, and this is how she repays us? By being insolent towards us, and especially Quetzalcoatl?"
Jack raised an index finger, and his eyebrow even more, smiling.
"Aah... But this is not a matter of whether she repays your trust.. It is Clearly a matter of your own foolishness to put so much trust in her. Trust her, surely. But do not overdo it, or suffer the consequences..As for Quetzalcoatl, I think that his mind is slowly coming to realize how to do things properly, both concerning Princess Anna and the other matters that inexorably draw us deeper into this world of darkness.." He said.
Andrew nodded, for what was in his mind, right there, on the tip of his tongue, what he could not pronounce, but only keep where it has always been, that which was always there, had been given a name. He did not learn what he just heard. He remembered.
"I believe this is all. Thank you for our meeting this evening. I bid thee fare well." Jack stood up, took his top hat in his right hand, and made a bow. Then he replaced the hat. He turned, walked towards the wall where he first appeared, and when he reached it, he vanished into thin air.
Chris's babbling stopped as suddenly as their visitor was gone. He looked at everyone's faces and said with a grin:
"Ho there, my fellow chaps! Why are we gathered here, this fine evening?" He pretended he held a stick in his hand, and imitated the move Jack made with the hat when we went away.
Fox laughed silently.
Andrew laughed as well.
Solidus Picked up the pen and paper and put it back in the black briefcase, which, strangely made no sound when he opened it to put the tools back in.
Chris slouched, and placed his hands on his cheeks, theatrically. Then in a shriek he said:
"When shall we three meet again, in thunder! Lightning! or in rain?! when the hurlyburly's done!! When the battle's! Lost and won!! Yaaah hah hahahahaaaaah!"
His laughter brought a chill to the other three's spines.

The Begining.

2007-08-29T00:57:00.000-07:00

Solidus grinned.
"Think.. What I am planning, I am doing so with our best interest in mind..."
He was a tall, middle-aged man, with long, sliced back black hair that was over the years turning gray, a well-preserved and frequently shaved circle-beard, dressed in a formal black costume, with the top button of the shirt undone, to show a pendant worn on his neck, depicting what looked like an eight-side pentacle star with a grim skull in the center.
He was standing in front of the person with whom he spoke, holding his chin and forcing him to pay attention to his words.
Andrew nodded.
"I understand.. Though your plan seems... Very weird..."
Andrew was a sixteen year-old boy, although his appearance often showed quite the opposite. He hadn't shaved in a long time, so long that he couldn't remember. His hair was middle-length, black, and really messy.
How did I come to this, Andrew thought. I once looked like this guy..
His clothes where casual, all black jeans and shirt, that unwillingly showed the weight he has never been able (or willing enough, for that matter) to shake off. It wasn't that he was fat, in the past he has seen many worse days when it came to weight. He just didn't care enough about his appearance.
He was sitting on an old fashioned wooden chair, and half of his own will, he was looking at Solidus, nearly unable to look anywhere else.
"Don't push the kid that much, Solidus. Damn."
The one who spoke was Fox, sitting legs-crossed near the two, where he could have a clear view.
He was a young man, in his twenties, with long dark brown hair tied half in a pony-tail and the rest hanging free. He too, like Andrew, hadn't shaved in a long time. Only, he hadn't shaved longer, so he made the hair on his chin into a goatee of shorts. He was wearing an old-fashioned leather coat, with a white shirt inside, a pair of ordinary pants, and black leather boots.
"What do you mean, don't push him? Have you forgotten how we've come this far?!" Solidus roared.
Fox let a low sigh, shaking his head. After that, he said:
"I remember, my friend. But all work and know play, makes jack-"
"Jack can take play and shove it where the sun doesn't shine!" Solidus yelled, breaking his calm and formal appearance, and becoming what seemed a beast in fancy clothing.
He swept his forehead, looking up, trying to calm down again, and then broke the silence.
"Look. I know. I know. Alright? I know, that we shouldn't put all our effort in something, save it for when it is time, blah, blah, blah. But what? Stop acting? Planning? Dreaming? Forging the present? No. We must keep fighting. And trust me, somethings are worth doing, exactly because of their consequen-"
"-Harsh language summons me!!! Yie heh heh hehee!!!!" They all looked at the direction of the noise.
"Oh, great. Just what we needed" Solidus said, rolling his eyes.
The man that had just entered the room (which, strangely, had no doors, but had many giant windows, through which you could see the nightlife of the city below them, Athens), was really the simplest of the group: He only wore dark green baggy-pants, and large, goggle-like sunglasses. his skin was pale, untouched by hair, save for his head, the hairstyle of which was short, and just inexplicable.
He grinned, and his teeth had a certain four of them over-sized.
"The night calls me, brethren! What is this special occasion That gathers..." He stopped to count, for the first time paying attention to the group that was staring at him "..Us three in this gods-forsaken place?"Chris asked.
(Chris never counted himself, when counting anything else. To him he was plainly not one of them. For instance, there could never be four people including him in a room. There could only be "Three of them guys and me, therefore three").
Andrew let his tired head fall, as he was set free from Solidus holding him from the chin.
"This gods-forsaken place happens to be your Haven, and our meeting place, every time, Since we shifted into existence." Solidus said. Andrew, his head still down, gave a little grin.
Chris looked around, amazement in his face.
"Is it? And I couldn't stop thinking that I've seen this place before..." He scratched his chin, and then clapped his hands once, grinning.
"But mister Death has not answered the question the voices in my head posed..."
Solidus opened his mouth, but Fox spoke first.
"We're in a middle of a discussion about what to do with certain individuals, such as Anna, and Ignatius. -" Fox started.
"It has come to our attention that things have either changed-" Solidus continued.
"Or that they have always been like this, something that declares our weakness in our faces." Andrew concluded.
"Ahhh, that. Yes, informance has come to us. I suggest that we take drastic measures of psychology, and dire methods of internal judging! Nothing must be overlooked! The threat is due to come in a few nights' time!" then, he vanished, and the only things that showed he was still there, was his maniacal laughter and his steps, as he heavily ran in circles around them.
"Psycho-boy is right. We make our moves. now." Solidus said, and went to a small desk to open a black briefcase.
Fox nodded.
Andrew's grin grew wider.
Chris's laughter turned into a silent babble, with the only recognizable words being "death captor master comes"
The three watched Solidus, their hearts pounding faster, with the sole exception of Chris.

To be continued...