Tag: World Views

If you want to know how this story started, you can read about it HERE.

 

 “It’s not fair, it’s not the way it should’ve went down, I could’ve done better,” he yells as he drives punch, after punch into the bag, his knuckles split open, bloody, his face, bruised and swollen.

“There’s no shame in defeat,” a voice says from the shadows.

“I should’ve won!”

“Then you should’ve fought harder, you should’ve dodged like I taught you, instead of bloody just standing there like a stuffed animal. You gave your best, you did all you could, but, not all you had, you could’ve won, you just didn’t want to, so why did bitter?”

He grabs the bag and rests his head against it, letting out an exhausted sigh, “I wanted to, I could taste it, but then I started thinking, how many more fights would I have to fight? How many challengers would want what was mine? How  much more pain would I have to I through?” He looks over to the shadows, and see his silhouetted shape move backwards on his seat. “That’s when I decided I didn’t want that, I’d trained my entire life, went up against guys who were easily beaten, guys who went down quicker than my Linda Lovelace did when a gun was pointed at her head. But how long would it be until I ran into someone better, someone who could take everything I’d fought for away, I-I-I. I just got scared,” he says pushing his head into the bag once more.

“Being scared ain’t a sin boy, being scared is what makes us better than the rest, you just need to know how to use that fear, how to turn it into what you need out there, not turning your tail and running. Shit boy, the talent that rushes through your blood is second to none, you, at the top of your game, are unstoppable! Now, you need to decide if you get back on the horse and take life by the balls, or if you run away, like a little spoilt brat who doesn’t want to share his toys with everyone else,” he says, getting to his feet. “You know where I am when you make up your mind,” he says as he walks towards the doorway.

“I’m done,” he says softly through clenched teeth, the man stops at the door, not even bothering to turn around.

“When you change your mind, when you realize how much you need it, when you can’t sleep, call me.”

If you want to know how this story started, you can read about it HERE.

“There are some things, someone like you shouldn’t see,” the old man says, as he slowly settles himself on the corner of the bed, his cane now acting as somewhere to rest his weary arms, as they fold over the handle, and he leans forward. “Tell me why you need this, tell me what I should show you what you ask?” He asks.

“I-I-I, I JUST need to, I HAVE to, for me to believe this, to believe all the tales, to know it’s true, I have to see IT for myself,” he says quickly, his mouth frothy with churned saliva, his heart racing to an erratic beat in his chest, his hands shaking as if he’d been holding a lawn mower for the last three hours, and his right eye, twitching every few seconds.

“Look at you boy, you’re a mess, seeing is not going to make you be more of a man, seeing is going to god damn kill you,” the old man says.

“PLEASE!” He yells, grabbing him by the arm.

“Get your god damn hands off me,” he says, trying to pull himself free.

“SHOW ME! SHOW ME AND YOU CAN LEAVE!” He yells, knocking the old man to the ground, before he begins to drive the cane powerfully across the old man head several times, until finally, exhausted, he falls to his knees, instantly he feels the blood begin to soak into his jeans, and he looks down upon the fractured, busted open skull of the man he once called father.

“Dreams of dreams,” a raspy voice hisses from the darkness, he searches the room frantically, but finds no owner of the voice, he stares back down at his father’s body, his blank, dead eyes staring back at him.

“Dreams of the dreamer,” his father says, causing him to leap to his feet, before slamming down three more powerful whacks with the cane onto his head, while the old man laughs.

“All come to he who calls, to he, who believes,” the raspy voice says from the darkness once more, he spins around the room, his eyes darting from corner to corner, his heart beating powerfully in his chest.

“SHOW YOURSELF MONSTER, COME, MAKE ME BEL…..” His words stop in their tracks as he feels all the hairs on his body stand on their ends, he hears a low, otherworldly growl from behind him,m and slowly turns around, falling to his knees as his eyes, wide with fright, watch its distorted, unnatural movements as it steps closer, and closer towards him. His nostrils burn, as its stench wafts into his face, he feels the contents of his stomach surge from within and out onto the floor, as the beast now stands before him.

If you want to know how this story started, you can read about it HERE.

“It’s easy, just put your lips together, and blow, the melody will follow in time,” he says with a smile, she looks up at him, as tears run down her face.

“Please, I-I-I can’t.”

“There’s no such word, as can’t,” he says as he slowly begins to sharpen his knife. “You see Helen, I’ve taught many a great, some of the finest players you would ever hear, and all them, at the beginning said the same things, and like you they all had talent, just no way of grabbing it by the balls, making it dance to their tune, I showed them how to take it and make it theirs. Each challenge is different, each student presents me with a different style, a different avenue to twist my skill into, and I pride myself that through all these years, none have failed to pass, that of course was before you came along, you, you Helen have skill, but you lack the basic skills that separate children from adults,” he says, letting his head drop, as he clutches his temple. “I find it impossible to understand how someone, thirty-seven years old, can lack basic social skills, my god even savants show greater social skills than you, so, you leave me little choice but to try a method that was abandoned long ago because of its brutality. All in all Helen, what this means for you my dear, is, if you don’t whistle me a tune, a tune I can recognize, I will cut you,” he says letting the knife shine in the light. “At first the cuts will be short, delicate, a nuisance more than pain, but, the longer you resist, the deeper the cuts will become, the more painful they will be, until, you do as I ask,” he says, turning, to the empty chair, he looks around the deserted room, the door open wide, he lets out a sigh of exhaustion, and gentley places the knife onto a table. “I don’t get paid enough for this, ” he hisses as he strides to the open doorway, “HELEN, there’s nowhere to go, we’re miles from anywhere and you’ve no way of escape! So, you either come back now and save us both a lot of huffing and puffing or, you’ll not only fail my class, but your inheritance will go to some snotty bullshit charity, as your parents laid out in their will,” he yells out, his eyes search the darkness, before she slowly walks out into the light, shoves her way past him and sits back down in the seat.

“Now,” he says, as he closes the door behind him, “whistle for me.”

If you want to know how this story started, you can read about it HERE.

He stands looking over the vast empire that stretches out before, he allows himself a smile, knowing today, unlike so many others, for him, is a sorrowful day.

An armored warrior strides into his throne room and comes to a sudden halt, saluting, “All hail Lord Chiveron,” he shouts.

“At ease Commander, what news do you bring?”

“We have taken the strong hold, we have won my lord.”

“And Kafka, what has become of him?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We have him,” the commander replies with a wry smile.

“Bring him to me,” he says quickly.

The commanders smile widens, “I knew you would want that,” he says as he turns toward the entrance way, “BRING HIM IN!” He yells.

Seconds later six heavily armed soldiers lead in a shackled man, his head hanging towards the ground, his eyes widen, lost.

“Leave us,” Chiveron says.

“My lord is that wise, sir….” The Commander says before Chiveron give his a deathly stare.

“I SAID, LEAVE US!”

“Of course,” The Commander says, signaling to the soldiers, then bows and quickly follows them out of the chambers, Kafka stands unmoving, his eyes still fixed to the ground, as Chiveron slowly circles around him.

“Would you believe, one day, we would be standing here, on opposite sides,” he says, Kafka does not respond. He strides up, standing a few feet from him, “What happened to you Kafka, what drove you to betray me?”

“You betrayed me,” Kafka hisses.

“How dare you, I did nothing but protect you, keep you safe, you betrayed my trust, you calculated plans to dethrone me, to spill my blood, I never betrayed you once.”

“Lies, once you rose to power, one you took your title, you changed, the boy I grew up with, the boy I protected, loved, he died, whoever you are now, you are not him, you are a disease this land can do without, a disease that I know the cure for.”

He slaps Kafka across the face, he eyes glow red, fire leaps from his fingers, “You never protected me, I protected you, without me, without who I am, you would be dead, boy.”

“There you go, all high and mighty again, life isn’t all about power, all about a title.”

“What is a man if he does not have a title?”

“Is that how you see yourself in this world? Is this how you find meaning?”

“Meaning? There is no meaning to be found boy, title brings respect, so, either you respect my position, or die, there is nothing else!”

“And in that, is your undoing,” Kafka says, as he raises his head, and stares fiercely into Chiveron’s eyes. “Your quest for power, your title, has blinded you to who this world needs you to be, do you not remember the stories we were told when we were children, the morals that your father tried to pass onto you, this mistake he wished you not to make.”

“My father was weak, I am not him, I am power, I am…” his words don’t come, as he feels the blade dig deep into his chest, he looks up, staring into Karla’s eyes.

“I am sorry my brother, but your time is over, I have the support of our people, you, are the disease, I am the cure,” he says as he thrust the blade in deeper.

If you want to know how this story started, you can read about it HERE.

It lets out a cry of anger, driving its huge, pulsating arms down, its fists connect with the ground viciously, as a crack splitters off from the impact point, rushing through the ground like a bolt of lighting, towards him.

He watches as the earth beneath him cracks, he leaps sideways, as it jerks upwards, like a dagger, trying to tear into him. He spins around quickly, crouching on the ground, bearing his teeth.

“You have to do better than that if you want to stop me,” he hisses, as he rushes towards it, he leaps from the ground, sending a powerful kick to the beasts face, it makes little to no impact on it, smiling it sipes him effortlessly away.

“Days go by, weeks, months, years even, I stand as I am, unchanged, unmarked, while you, you give these things all you have, even risking your life, why?”

“If you have to ask, you’ll never understand brother,” he says as he gets to his feet uneasily.

It laughs, “I take it I hurt your feelings, wasted are we on these, come back with me, let us be who time has designed us to be, let’s not be swayed by the meat.”

“That’s why you’ll never understand, they’re not just meat, they’re living, breathing beings, beings who love, dance, laugh, things we used to do, back in the old days.”

“The old days are done, we are no longer those who knelt beside him, we are the rulers, we make our choices and all follow, if only one of us must return, then it will not be you,” it says, as it tenses its muscles, and takes a powerful step forward.

“Go, I’m not coming back either way, I have found my place here.”

“With her? The human?”

He stares at him for sometime, trying to read his brothers mind, but finds its thoughts blocked.

“What have you done brother?”

“I have done nothing yet, come with me, come home, and I will continue to do nothing,” it says with a wry smile.

He clenches his hands into fist, his lips curl into a sneer, and his feet dig into the ground, readying himself for impact.

“Your last mistake, I have let you be, for far longer than I should’ve, this, is for the best, my brother,” he says, as the gigantic behemoth charges forward, they crash into each other violently, fists, blood, legs and knees fly left and right as the two battle for minutes, hours, and then, days, until finally, they both stand weary, beaten and bloody, unable to find enough strength to finish the other.

The beast laughs, “Hasn’t this always been the way, his two favorite sons, made in his image, from the purest thought, and the deadliest nightmare we’re we born. Your woman, she’s dead by now, why don’t you come home?”

“Where is she?”

“Does it matter? She is long gone, like all the others, come with me brother, this place is not fo…”

“WHERE IS SHE!” He screams, he eyes glow, white hot light.

It laughs uneasily, surprised by its brothers anger, “Back where it all began brother, back where you laid with the vile woman, where I took her as well,” it says with a snarl.

“NO!” He screams, as his hands glow brightly, then he drives one last powerful punch into the beast stomach, splitting it open.

As his brother falls defeated, its light extinguished, he jumps powerfully into the air, clearing miles in a single leap, he come crashing to the ground with a devastating impact, but is unharmed, then leaps again, and again, until he lands a few feet from a tiny, run down farm house. Without stopping, he rushes to the doorway, it hangs from its hinges, he moves quickly from room to room, calling out her name, until finally he finds her naked, bloody body, at the foot of her bed. At once he is at her side, cradling her weak, fragile form, slowly her eyes open, tears run down his face, as she smiles weakly.

“Is it over?” She asks.

“It’s over thanks to you, now rest up, you’ll be okay,” he says as he runs a hand through her blood soaked hair, she laughs softly.

“You still haven’t got this lying thing down yet, your eyes give it away,” she says, closing her eyes.