unknown

Mind

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  "I am neither your savior or villain."
  
  
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  ///HISSTORY

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  "Take everything from a man and watch him break." When a man suffers drastic hardships, he becomes swallowed by his anger and sees nothing but the death of his enemies at his hand. Tragedies happen to all; however, the lucky and strong pursue for change whether for the world or for themselves. This man went through hell and back for everything he owned; not a cent was given to him. The one growing of jealousy seduced him to the round table, enticing the idea of camaraderie and friendship mixed with scoring whores out the door, booze, and riches out of this world. There was one that he felt made his life worth treasuring. Ideals away from hedonism does not bear welcoming arms to the truth and faithful though his hands were heavily tainted in highly mischievous shenanigans. He could change, for this person. For this man. A friend near and dear, maybe more. As they said: to love was to sacrifice. Fragile ego was broken and trust tarnished by the Judas hidden behind the disciples. The friend cried wolf, betrayal of the cruelest kind. A year of closeness vanished in the flames that burned his friend alive after his torment of stones and sticks in places unseen by the sun. Held down and forced to watch him turn from ashes to dust. It was forever a brutal place, this world. He struggled for his place and yet it was being ripped from him mentally and physically. How tightly he held unto the mysterious gift given in lieu of their steadfast relation as he escaped. A year of nightmares and anxiety attacks returning at full force upon his capture of the murderer who wanted for his death to be real. It was not enough to take all he had and let him live. Vigorous torture lasted for days; his seizures and compulsions increased with each severe injury to his body. Severed tongue served as an aphrodisiac to a pair of freakish and deformed delinquents; tendons cut, removing mobility in the hands first; whipped, poked, and lightly burned with a bit of oil doused on various places. Nearly starved and dying of thirst. What stoked his flame to linger on? It could have been the gift that still preciously rested on the wooden table among the dirty instruments. The only thing keeping him from falling into pieces. Unfortunately, its destruction was planned at the brink of one's sanity. Broken beneath the weight of disgusting envy, he broke down, his being shattering into pieces across the ground. Blood coated his throat, a straining gasp of denial hollering out through wide-span eyes and broken teeth. "Speak and it shall rise; breathe my name and it shall be." Reality torn asunder and the false knights stood in wonder of the unknown. The sky bled red; the floor hollowed of natural earth; the moon shone in a dark realm, revealing gargantuan talons, outlined lips, and a multitude of eyes. Upon five pillars surrounding the frightful sight were beings of foreign origin, enigmas to the naked eye. Fear struck hard which turned into belligerent bouts of 'what the fuck' and 'who the fuck are you'. Each one ignored for the broken man, his vision blurred and face wet with red tears. Just a lingering thought runneth his cup over with animosity so strong it might be enough to crush the betrayer by mental power alone. Forgiveness and forgetfulness be damned. Each being raising a hand, he was lifted and guided towards the come hither talons with one large palm cupping the weak man. For his flesh and blood, he would be reborn again in exchange for the sacrifices of the friend and his army of philandering pals. All were drained; none survived. In the midst of his newly upcoming arrival, an entity crashed the party, sworn of its own allegiance and disrupting the ritual. This man who strove for so much met an untimely hand dealt to him. Glass full, he was left incomplete. Black bones as resilient as steel; resistance to impurities and some magic obtained. That was all he was, a powerful skeleton crowned with a handful of abilities but dismissing the prize of flesh and blood that once made him human. Pain had riddled him with dampening hindrance and it still felt as if those memories still burdened him, being so recent. Vague ideas were explained but those bony digits were blessed with a sword which rang for his touch; Abel's Cry, a weapon that thrived on one's betrayal. Fresh and pouring out of him; the sword bestowed him powers beyond anyone's wildest dreams, but of what? "What path will you take?" Whole and yet incomplete. Two paths led different directions: Salvation or Elimination. "The road in between?" Dawn's light still hosted its shadows; hiding in the closets was a past not worth mentioning aloud. His struggles here were his own to bear. Flare of blue flickered with unspoken hatred with the sword pulled at his side. The entity was gone, and his questions remained unanswered. Nothing. He had nothing but his dwelling animosity towards what he used to be: human.