Monday, April 27, 2009

May Quote

"I've been alone a long, long time/
So what, I take what should be mine/
I've searched the sea of empty eyes/
And severed all my family ties/
A mercenary feeds my soul/
A plastic world, no getting old/
A monkey wears the age old crown/
The other monkeys getting down"
-Emigrate Emigrate

The Rabbit Hole

Once upon a time there was a girl named Alice. Alice had been stolen by an evil sorcerer when she was a very young child. The sorcerer had no children of his own and had always wanted a little girl. Alice simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was snatched away to the sorcerer's tower.

For a time, Alice lived happily with the sorcerer. She was a good child, always listening, generally quiet. She seemed well suited to the sorcerer's tower. But all that changed the night Alice turned seven. For as she lay sleeping, dreaming the dreams of good little girls, it just so happened that her dream started to take shape within the room, coming alive. Alice was one of the rare dream weavers, one who had total mastery of dreams. She could enter dreams, and shape them to her desires, even bringing them with her into the waking world.

On the night that this first happened, the dream was innocent enough; Alice had been dreaming about a fluffy bunny she vaguely remembered from the time before the sorcerer. In her dream, she had been trying so hard to remember him that she accidentally took him with her into the waking world. Well, the sorcerer flew into a fury when he discovered the dream rabbit. He knew what the dream bunny meant. He had wanted an ordinary girl, not one who could very well be more powerful than he was! And so he ordered the construction of a great prison where he would keep Alice away from the world. He wanted to ensure that no one would be able to find her and teach her how to use her powers.

And so Alice was sent far away from everything she had ever known, with no explanation from the sorcerer. She spent the beginning of those dark days ashamed of herself. As far as she knew, she had done something so terrible that the sorcerer had sent her away. Yet she could not understand what that had been.

But as is often the case, a bit of light managed to pierce the darkness. Alice found, when she was really depressed, that she would often wake up and find company, often in the form of friendly little animals, but sometimes toys and other wonders. At first she thought that the sorcerer was sending her these things. But eventually she discovered that these wonders were often the very things she had been dreaming about! And so it became a sort of game, where she would consciously try to bring things out of her dreams, which she nicknamed the rabbit hole in honour of that first bunny that she brought out.

As time passed, Alice became very good at pulling things out of the rabbit hole. What had originally been a dreary cell became a colourful haven for the girl. She had toys, clothes and pets galore. And whenever something happened, a toy broke, a dress tore, or a pet disappeared, she could simply dream a new one to take its place! Sleep became a haven for the young girl, a place where anything was possible.

As Alice grew up, the sorcerer was busy building his empire. After banishing Alice, he had the fortune of finding one of the rare spell books of a long dead wizard. Using these spells, he was able to summon a monstrous horde with which he began conquering first his native country, and then the surrounding countryside. None could stand before his mighty horde.

By the time Alice turned eighteen, the sorcerer had long forgotten her. He had left her prison under the control of his aging manservant. The manservant eventually turned Alice's care over to his grandson, Tim, as the man's son was commander of the sorcerer's army. From the first moment he laid eyes on Alice, Tim fell in love with her. He did not see why so lovely a creature as Alice should be confined in a prison so far away from everything. And so he went to her, telling her he would free her if she would be his wife.

At first Alice was afraid, as this was the first person who had been nice to her in over a decade. But she longed to leave her prison and so she agreed. Tim released her and brought her back to civilization. Alice was shocked at the transformation of the land: all was blackened and burnt where before it had been green and alive. She was even more shocked to learn that it was the sorcerer who had scarred the land.

For the first time, as Alice lay asleep that night, her dreams were truly troubled. She knew that someone would have to speak to the sorcerer and get him to change his ways. Otherwise all that was good and green in the world would be lost. In her dream a woman spoke to her, telling her the way to the sorcerer's tower. To help Alice reach it, the woman gave Alice a magic carpet.

When Alice awoke, the carpet was there with her, hovering a few feet over the ground. To her delight, she realized that the carpet could fly! She found Tim and told him her plan. He tried desperately to talk her out of confronting her prisoner, the sorcerer, but Alice would not be swayed. And so Tim agreed to accompany her on her journey.

They flew over a desolate landscape, heading to the sorcerer's tower. After a harrowing journey, they made it, aided many times by Alice's rabbit hole. They fought their way to the sorcerer's throne room where Alice pleaded with him to stop. At first the sorcerer failed to recognize her, but he flew into another rage when he realized who she was, and who Tim was. He opened his great spell book and struck Tim down, dead, for failing to keep Alice imprisoned. To punish Alice, he warped her mind, changing the good dreams into terrifying nightmares. But failing to realize that Alice knew how to pull things out of the rabbit hole, he sent her to sleep.

For the first time, Alice was truly afraid. Her dreams had always been a sanctuary for her. But now she found all manner of monstrous things waiting for her. She battled her way through the dream, altering it so that she had protection as was her right as a dream weaver. She struck a bargain with one of the denizens, who would destroy the sorcerer in exchange for freedom from the rabbit hole.

The sorcerer was unprepared for when Alice awoke. For with her rose a gigantic centipede with the head of a child and limbs made of children's arms. The centipede tore the sorcerer to shreds and then escaped into freedom as was agreed.

While the kingdom rejoiced at the end of the tyrant's reign, there could be no such rejoicing for Alice. The man she had always thought of as her father lay dead at her feet, beside the man she loved. She had released an unknown evil into the world, one which only time would reveal whether it was lesser or greater than the sorcerer had been. And so Alice took her final journey into the rabbit hole. She fights the evil now in her dreams, with Tim at her side. But she knows that she can never return from the rabbit hole again, for who knows what other evil she might bring with her into the waking world.

The thing about Jack

Jack stared into the small spitting flames of the campfire, poking it with a long stick. The woman Jack called Mom was adding spices to a small pot hanging over the flames. The man Jack called father was playing some soft melodies on his flute.
He could hear the other children of the caravan playing in the night. The laughter from the other families drifting over from their fires.

"Jack" the woman says, concern in her voice, "why don't you go play? Gwen has been calling for you."

The man puts down his flute and smiles. "Why, if I didn't know better, I might say she fancies you boy" he says, trying to get some response out of Jack. But Jack doesn't move or speak. Jack just stares into the fire, eyes lowered. The man and women look at each other and go back to their tasks, hoping Jack will tell them whats wrong when he's ready.

A small part of Jack's mind feels guilt over shutting out his family. A small part feels awkward about Gwen, not willing to admit that Jack likes her too. But that small part is ignored, overwhelmed by the darkness that is enveloping Jack's mind.

The thoughts in his mind are not his own. They started out on his 13th birthday. Mere whispers on the wind to faint to understand. Now, they fill his mind, threatening to consume his. Their words are alien to Jack, incomprehensible. It's all Jack can do to keep his sens of self separate from the darkness. But what scares Jack more then anything, is the strange desire to let go. To surrender himself to the voices.

Lost in his own mind Jack did not hear the first scream. Only faintly did he register the man and woman jump to their feet. It was only with the screams that followed, with the man running off and the woman pulling Jack to his feet did he come out of his world and into this one.

Blinking, it took Jack a few seconds to understand that the woman was trying to usher him into the small covered wagon that was their home. Before they could move more then a few feet the women shuddered, her eyes going wide as the tip of a sword, glittering red came through her chest. Jack watched her fall to her knees. He listened to her final words "run" as she collapsed forward. Behind her a soldier. Armor dull and muddied, eyes grim and focused.

The man had killed the woman had called Jack had called mother for 13 years. The man had killed his mother. Jack's eyes came back into focus. He finally took in what his eyes and ears had been telling him. All around there were soldiers from the nearby town, slaughtering his friends and family. All around, the people he grew up with were dying.

Jack stood there, stiff as a statue as the soldier pulled his blade out of Jack's mother's corpse. Frozen, tears running down his cheeks, Jack could do nothing as the soldier took a step closer and raised his sword to strike. At the last moment someone to the soldiers left yelled. He looked up, and just managed to block a blow from his father's flute. Although taken by surprise, the soldier smoothly countered, gutting his father like a fish. His trance broken, Jack ran.

Jack ran from the death and screams. He ran until he couldn't breathe. Until he couldn't hear anything but the sound of his heart pumping in his ears. He ran until he collapsed and lay there, curled up on the ground, weeping. His mother, his father, everyone was dead. He was all alone.

Jack lay there as the night darkened, as the air cooled. Lost in his sorrow, Jack didn't hear the whisper at first. Blinking, he look up. The night was dark. Darker then it should be. He could see the moon above the trees but it might as well not have existed.

And he heard it again. A whisper like the voices in his head, but this time he understood it. It was his name. Jack shook his head, but he heard it again. The whisper, and not in his mind, but all around him.

"Jack. We've felt your call Jack. We've felt your pain. We're here Jack, we've always been here. Accept us Jack."

Jack blinked, his tears drying. He could feel the presence in his mind growing, pacing, waiting. He could feel a desire, a hunger. He could feel the concern within the darkness. Concern, for him.

"Who are you?" Jack whispered. "What are you?"

"We are your mother and father, your sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. We are you Jack. We've been kept away for so long Jack. Lost and alone, but no more. No more Jack. Accept us Jack, and we will be yours forever. Accept us and together, we will punish though who have hurt us."

Jack closed his eyes tight. His mother and father, gone. He felt the deep pit of sadness in him. He felt the gaping hole in his heart where his family was, and he asked the darkness to fill it.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

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Wednesday, April 1, 2009


Someone expressed interest in my story for my quote back in november or whatever, I was sadly a combination of being too busy and too tired do any writing for a while there... Well, here it is (or something anyway).

An old man dressed in rags hunches over a long banked fire, his back is to me as I approach. In a voice deep and steeped bitter strong in weariness he asks me “Is it done?”

I give him no answer as is our long tradition.

He pokes the embers with a stick in his left hand, sparks beyond counting dance before his eyes. “Will you be stopped?”

I give him no reply as is our long tradition.

He does not turn, his voice is infinitesimally more bitter, I do not see his face, “Leave me then, until it is done.”

Ages pass, generations rise and fall. Each day we repeat our little ritual.
Epochs pass, continents rise and fall. Each day we repeat our little ritual.
Spans of time that have no name pass, galaxies rise and fall. Each day we repeat our little ritual.

Slowly the embers weaken, fewer and fewer sparks dance before his eyes.

One day, near the end, I break from the tradition and make answer to his second question, “I do not see how, there is almost nothing left to save.” I say this as on this day only one spark answers his gentle nudging.

He gives me no reply, further breaking our long tradition. I departed that day angry.

Ages, epochs and spans of time that have no name pass and his fire, near dead, grows no weaker.
Each day one spark rises, each day I depart angry. On the last day my anger rises in me and cannot be contained.

An old man dressed in rags hunches over a long banked fire, his back is to me as I approach. In a voice deep and steeped bitter strong in weariness he asks me “Is it done?”

I give him no answer as is our long tradition.

He pokes the embers with a stick in his left hand, a lone spark dances before his eyes. “Will you be stopped?”

I step forward now and reach out to crush the last ember. I step forward to say “No”. I step forward and see a smile on his lips and the silver orbs of his eyes, dark emerald glinting in his pupils.

In that moment those last few living, dancing, praying and working around the final ember on a mite of dust in the dark nothing of creation found an answer to my tyranny.

This is the last day that was counted.

After the end of entropy there was no longer any need. There would always be forever.

An old man dressed in rags sits back in silence and enjoys his gentle fire and there are sparks beyond counting dancing in his eyes.