The Confessions #01101000 01101111 01110000 01100101 0001010

Just a little something which reflects a war veteran’s search for purpose. Now, of course, I have no idea of the perils of a war veteran but I have done my best to reflect his inner conflict, with God, with faith and ultimately with himself. ( Is he who he claims to be? )

It may not be meaningful at all, but it is intended to be a prelude to many pieces I am yet to write. Note: ‘This is a reflection on ourselves, our meaningless hashtags and posts falsely endorsing hope for the dead, whom although we pray for, cannot aid.’

 

 

Dear, Diary

 

I have no grudge against the world, I exist only to quench my thirst for freedom, it is why breath from my lungs is exerted and inserted, it is an incentive which God has promised to me.

He is the reason I pulled that trigger. No..No..NO! I pulled that trigger because I was commanded to do so, it was a battlefield I was confined to for god’s sake! The choice is only fantasy in that place.

Don’t you get it, Vincent?! You fought for your country, you rebelled because God had it in his vision. He created us, forged our eyes, our words and our minds for us to protect this world from demise, he is the very definition of righteousness and the embodiment of divinity.

So the all divine god told me to pull that trigger, to murder his very own creation?! Is he the reason,  a mere justification for slaughtering the innocent and for bombing streets rich with life? I am a murderer and so are the many who had in it in their morality to kill and to snatch from the innocent their breaths.

No human is innocent but the latter is defined only be one’s belief of god, which is the very definition of morality if you believe, you have a right to be. To all who believed him and accepted him, he gave you the right to become children of God.

You don’t get it! You murdered children on the battlefield with no presence of mercy!

Well if it is, you did it for god, You deserve Life, Vincent.

It doesn’t work like that, one cannot justify death through scriptures or tales of wisdom and healing, everybody cannot fall in the path of the mighty Jesus Christ.

We, humans, are entrapped in a void of mortality and are forced to abide by it. We are stuck on a quest for meaning, pastors find it through prayer, rishis, and mages through meditation,  murderers through killing. Of course, we cannot say that life is meaningless. That is cynical and truly hopeless. Every day, freedom is extended to us, we may be misguided but everyone finds their way in the end, through something which grows in the most unlikely of places, it grows in the garbage dump.  Hope.

War is nature, we are not exposed to it but experience it. War can never be justified, so can’t nature.  Humanity strives on reason but that conquest, in the end, leaves us with nothing but emptiness and loss of hope. It is our duty to strive for a sense of purpose but not to be misguided by false hope, like divinity.

Vincent, what you don’t get is… It is our duty to live. To give our best. Tragedy has struck. So what? Move on. Make a difference, to hell with what the Lord wills, regardless, if he gives you happiness so be it. Move on, Vincent, there are a million wars to be fought, millions of lives to be lost.

 

T R A N S C R I P T-#1

 

‘Vincent, I understand from this very interesting reading of your diary, that you have suffered trauma, even worse, the fear of death.’

‘Correct, I..just can’t put my finger on why I am still living, why, I should have died with all my brothers alongside, laying bravely on the battlefield, I know I wrote one has to move on, but I just can’t ‘

‘Vincent, You have to understand, You are sick. You are not a war veteran, you are inflicted by Disassociative identity disorder, your diary seems to compel one that you are on a perilous search for meaning but, aren’t we all?’

‘But, Officer, I was there…I stared at the face of death, this diary was an attempt from my side to pray for all the children that died.’- Vincent

‘Do you feel you can achieve anything from your entries, Vincent? Do you feel that some scribbles in your diary would help the millions that continue to die on the battlefield?’- Officer Reily

 

‘You WEREN’T THERE, OFFICER!, YOU CAN ONLY ENVISION DEATH, YOU HAVE NOT EXPERIENCED IT.’-Vincent

 

‘That is fairly my point, Vincent. We all pretend to suffer from something we are not inflicted or impacted by, we attempt to mourn deaths which are not our own, we live to experience bombings and tragedies we did not experience. Our mourning cannot cure the plague of others. Vincent, you were right in some part of your conquest expressed through your diary. One should hell with the will of God, it is your will that matters and one should never be misguided by false hope.’- Officer Reily

”It is our duty to mourn, to breed hope” – Vincent

‘Hope can be bred from within, the campaigns we start in the digital world or the billboards we stick on the highways praying for the dead doesn’t do them good, if you are so eager to act and help them out then…  Live.’

Transcript, of the treatment of Vincent Koulbrundy, Patient NO.1114, Camden Mental Asylum  Conducted by Officer (Col.) Reily Reiner, War veteran and Superintendent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DOUBT- OVERCOMING DOUBT- ABSTRACT STORIES

Red. Bathed with blood, there I stood. As I grasped tightly the blade that had been bonded to me, terrified of death, terrified of existence I slit its throats with aggravation

 

, as it scowled for mercy , there it was, shivering with the desire of life as it clenched it”s heart with the assistance of it”s sweaty and skinny palm lying over his yet overgrown stomach seeping blood right below his widely torn eyes situated along it”s ungroomed collection of dark and rough strands of hair, there it was. It took me just a mere amount  of time to realize, that, it was me. Shivering with unconditional terror and shaken by the pleasure of doubt. I was awoken.

 

As screams took me by surprise I was compelled to unravel myself to the shade of the evening, as I ripped apart the tube that had been attached to veins, and hurried to the nurse Elizabeth”s office, shrieking with fear as I willingly stormed in the pink door, only to be disappointed. The seat was empty. I glared at the wallclock, hanging side by side the wooden cupboard, where Sister Elizabeth stored all her medical records from the Everton military college. My glare was disrupted. There I saw her. Folding her arms in distress she screeched out my name “ Aaron!, you filthy , sneaky little brat. Whaddaya think you be doing laddy?!”. My eyes lost their relentless focus. It was sudden death. I fainted.

 

This was life.Defined by weakness and fueled by loneliness, rotting day by day.I don’t know what had yet disrupted success from life, I don”t know what had led me to endure physical immunity. This was life: the winter of 1932, England.

 

“No, he seems to be recoverin from that rickety ol problem, it”s just immunity. He”d be at class tomorrow morning. Yeah yeah, he”ll study alright”. These whispers took away the desired comfort of my sound sleep, as they evoked inside me the essence of true nightmare. It was school. A destination designed solely for manipulation, for control, that”s what Pa used to blather on about, before.. before the happening.It took him away, in the flames of war. Then, fate drifted me away to this dump. I”m useless. And weak. This isn’t a matter of “physical immunity!” It”s a concrete issue surrounding isolation, distraction,consumption of the weak.

Now, 

when I ponder on the nature of this situation , there is one place that comes to mind:Classroom 10B and yet 100 sinister titles that come to mind:Carson. Winston. Nurse Callaway. Professor Hemingway , so on and yet so forth. Some resent my skinny to fat physique, some resent my passion for reading. Some disgust me for my ill health. Most disgust me for my ill health. And so, the play begins.

 

Part II FEAR

 

As I was unstrapped off the steel rims of my old sturdy bed, I weeded meaning?? a feeling of fear inside myself , a feeling that may compel me to lose my breath. What was that worst? It was just faded verbal abuse, just a fuel to doubt, it was just a series of gags and pushes, a fuel to doubt, it was just making fun of yourself, Aaron, just a fuel to doubt .As I took a step upon the steel hallway, attempting to relieve my self of the glare I hath set upon nurse Ella, as she slipped me off her care, I knew, that trust was similar to fool”s gold, a fantasy. Leaving the hallway appealed to me rather as a relief, as I was taken of that filthy stench that roamed throughout the medical center, and submitted back to the stench of sweat and earl gray tea, entering the wooden doorway that led me to the Everton Caffetaria , at first a pleasure, then a torment. As my greatest fear stumbled upon me, an encounter with Carson Davis!! As his green and crystal sight dug upon me, he scowled with the intention of acquiring attention, clanking the steel plate he held with his wooden spoon, “ look what we have here! Are you lost laddy? Would you like me to show you the way back to the asylum?”. The desire to scream off of my chords was gleaming, the desire to throw the yet rotten mashed potatoes I held on his face was gleaming but I didn’t. I knew Carson paid off every staff member with his Father”s dirty pennies, but I didn’t. And he did. “ who do you think you are, eh Aaron?”. It went on and on and on, prolonged inevitably, but ignorance got the best of him and me. It was not until Mathematics that all my enemies were united: doubt, numbers and professor Hemingway.

 

As I dumped my steel plate into the newly placed dumpster, I was compelled to follow the ringing of the bell and enter the mathematics room and once one entered 

there was yet no possibility of “wanted escape”. He screeched: “ come on rickety ol sons of labourers lets train our brains today… Hello Mr. Ferguson, are you finally ready for class, Are you finally ready to utilize life in some way rather than inhabiting a utopia!”. He saw me as some product of vulnerability, something habitual to trouble and so I kept quiet, embedded with undesired silence, for now. At least. It was theory. No doing good for nothing calculations, but being patient into listening what that old hog had to say, with his wavering white mustache and chubby belly, covered with a cheap patched suit, and he says I need help. Suddenly, time felt fast. It raced down my veins resulting in the beating of my heart, as I pondered what is Math? A series of senseless calculations, a numerical pattern that possesses the ability to decode our existence? Pa told me it”s important, but I still don”t get it.

 

While I dabbled with philosophy, Hemingway dabbled with a stick, as he slapped it right on my palm, scarring me deeply. For life.

 

Enduring the pain of being stroked with the likes of a stick was hardly usual with me, only when I attended Hemingway”s class would I be “specifically” targeted, as I felt the pleasure he absorbed when he hit me, as confusion struck my heart, puzzled of what grudge I had committed.

PART III: DEATH

 

This day shall be considered fatally flawed. Supper: I sat there, in isolation, in the likes of separation. Mathematics: I sat there, abused and ridiculed isolated from confidence, exposed to doubt. The one thing that my will is afraid of, the one thing which humanity detests, the freedom of doubt. As it whirls around it”s manipulative stunts with the fatal attempt of acquiring control over my rotting body, doubt is inescapable.

This thought had been battling over in the nature of my mentality just long enough, long enough to achieve realization, of how all of this treachery could be sustained with no harm. Death. As I was compelled to grab the tune that attached the cheap    fluid to my body, I cut it out with my blade of a tooth, grasping it to hook it on to the fan, just to reach an end , an end that could harm no one, I have been stuck in immunity for quite a while, I shall achieve redemption, by death. Yes, yes, yes, yes. This thought flustered in perfection and in my assurance just when “it” stopped me. A creature. It was shaded with a yet abnormal form of apparel, a helmet, faded black, worn above a black vest similar to Pa”s just above a white creased shirt which was worn above ash gray pants, but yet seeming so civil , it had no shoes but claws rooting around “it”s”  feet. It was leaning on the rims of the window, with his gold helmet cankling against the wall

 

It firmly said: “ Aaron, why?”

 

A therapeutic statement, I pondered inside. And was strong enough to reply to it. “ it”s the itch”, “ the feeling of unease, of revenge of desire for bloodlust”, “ it troubles me”

 

“ what does?” It wondered.

 

“Who are you?” I replied, dodging the question he had inquired on.

 

“ I am not an angel, Aaron, nor  am I a devil. I am a mere picture, a fragment of your thought, I am who you perceive to be, In the end, I am a rebel”

 

“ against what?”

 

“ your kingdom”

 

“ your kingdom of doubt”.

“What is this “kingdom of doubt?”

“ A destination which ponders in isolation, loneliness, self doubt, a place neglecting action, your kingdom of doubt, it is a collection of all that drags you down, Aaron”

 

“ A destination?”

 

“ I shall show you”

 

I was confused and yet puzzled that I was of any significance to this dimension, as the creature tore apart the carpet on the wood floor, leading me to the opening of a yet endlessly perilous void. I fell.  Tearing my vocal chords through the vacuum of a never ending echo, now I knew. The plot had turned.

 

As I traveled the likes of a yet very obscure destination, I fell upon in the end, on a classroom, behind it”s “ transparent” walls at least, where everything was black, except the scene of me, Aaron Ferguson tied to the blackboard with board pins going across my veins, a gruesome sight, where my green striped uniform had been torn apart and Carson and Hemingway were behind it. They took chances, and threw something at me, threw words, insults. This day wasn’t the first one either and the imagery made me recall all of them. From the day where my introduction, a physically immune infant, took Carson by surprise, a 10 year old boy, filthily rich, and Hemingway came later, as my kingdom grew stronger and stronger, that is what the creature preaches anyway.

 

“ time runs fast” the creature stated.

“ you need to understand that”

 

“ I do” I replied.

 

“ no. Changes have not been made, time has changed, but you haven”t”

 

“But…”

“ Aaron, Carson and Hemingway are a representation of mere doubt, overcome that, make friends, overcome weakness, make change”

 

I was awaken, it all seemed to me like a dream, but it”s meaning wasn’t, was it?

 

PART 4: Awakening

 

I have commited a sin. Order could have got the best of me. Should have. But power overcame my body. I am not dipped in speciality, I am similar to the others, similar to Carson, To Hemingway, what have I done? Is this the price for influence? I pondered on this thought yet very deeply, as I had been repenting my recent deeds, the murder of an officer, for power. I have finally been promoted to sergeant from a mere assistant at this point, as war is at it”s very brink, I have tricked my fellow soldier to demise. I do not deserve to prevail as a hero, as I have killed my own.  “ creature!” I scowled fearlessely, “ show yourself” , I boiled with rage, for I remembered the very moment when I uncocked colonel H.trap”s gun, as in the battle he was fallen. Before I could go on blabbering any further, me, a soldier gone mad, I confronted him. The creature. As he sat down on the rough hay lay on out in the tent. “ Aaron” he said.

 

“ yes”

 

“ power, a popular motive for self gain can turn into service”

 

“ you are an officer now?”

 

“Yes”

“ then you better lead on, embrace your actions, sustain that rage, now earn that title, abolish that kingdom of doubt,”

 

“ wait, who are you “ I inquired.

 

He took off his helmet, with a slit throat and an appearance similar to mine, as he concluded:

 

“I am you”

 

——— End———–

 

— British army( ally band)

 

General Aaron Ferguson

 

1942, WW2

 

 

A hymn to rebellion

As I glare into the vast skies, overwhelmed with beauty, the petals gleaming with color, I ponder with curiosity, is this all I see?

 

Birds chirping with a joyous echo, rain dripping with life, is this all there is?

 

As I glare into the vast skies, taken by demise, taken by this supposed industrial dream, I wonder if this is all I ponder, if this is all I see?

 

For I am a murderous poet  enraged by this hidden agenda, enraged by this senseless revolution , only a twisted form of freedom our so called constitution

 

These green fields, these breathless structures, are all made of a plastic dream, a clever ruse designed to confuse, these plans, these agendas, to me they only seem to amuse

 

For I am a murderous poet, enraged by this hidden agenda, enraged by this  senseless revolution, for this only a twisted form of freedom,

 

To build walls and not bridges, this is absurd.

 

As I abandon this sense of rhyme, this sense of satisfaction, I desire to kill, to rid this  world of demise , beauty is made of delusion, freedom my friends is made of delusion,

 

I am a murderous Poet, to kill those crooked lies to break forever these hidden ties, to thrive in the blood of those who killed freedom, to thrive in the blood of these corrupted dreamers,

 

But if so, if I do thrive in their blood, if I enjoy their bodies flood am I different than these getting off from crimes, money hogging deceivers? I think not.

 

As we scream through these divided states of the world, unity symbolised by this calm white bird, slayed, maimed contained in a cage, this is being untied, to these false policies of development we must abide

 

As gunshots fall, splatter like the rain, instead of life they bring pain, as that voice to free speech all go down a mere drain,

 

Drip, drip and splash, living in a world oh so drab, the time has come.

Dear, mother  I apologise for objecting but this society to me always been neglecting, they may hang me , burn me for my voice, they may rid themselves of my ashes, hit me with lashes, for I dare to dream however delusional it may seem,

 

To put freedom on the map, to think and to dare to live in this world by yielding fearless  flare I would always deem , but if, if they call this violent violent I will continue to seem, , armoured clad with free speech ready to attack on society.

 

The Stone

” Finn, give this a spin mate” called out his friend, asking for him to “dwell into a new world” through this new medicinal drug. This was yet enough for him. Living in a shared room with maniacs, this experience was too abysmal, even for a butcher’s son.

As his inner gut reached out and strangled him till he stormed off into the hallway of his apartment, a 5 story building, Finn drove himself to reach eternal betterment. To patch up the many holes dug by his deranged habit of drinking, procrastination and also, his failed degree.

Now determined to get together, Finn pushed in willingly the button to the elevator. The very stench, the robust stench of alcohol and the sound of maniacal fun from outside the room almost lifted him from his feet. He resisted. In he went, and shut the elevator door did. Life had given him an opportunity to transform and he grasped it.

But… Recurrent beeping and thumping caught his attention. He was stuck inside a rather small, abomination of a cage. The elevator shook. ” Thud”. Bang. These words are merely for the reader to perceive the horror of the situation.

It opened. Finn, stormed out, bumping into what was described as a janitor. With the deranged pupils of any other. With the smell of any other. But his nails they were green. Sprouted out abnormally. One would only gag at the sight of them. They reached for him. The janitor firmly pressed Finn”s face, only to result in a terrible scream.

“Ahhhhhhhh”. The janitor, he instead of comfort him, smirked. That sinister grin. It is the very summary of the horrors Finn had seemingly suffered, those teeth had red chunks of meat stuck between them, the face shaven clean . He turned to reach for the elevator, still open, only to find that …

The shaft was empty. At the blink of an eye, screeching followed. The janitor opened his mouth wide, wide as it can be, then bit his own finger. Smoke was drawn from this bite. Blood dripping, evaporating, dissolving into the empty sky, those fingers, those hands reached towards Finn, the innocent boy, pressed against his chest. That man is not identified. He matches the description of Finn himself as forensics point out. The work of a vicious killer who shapeshifts into the victim many point the suspect as, many skeptics still in doubt.

Finn Kimberly died of an overdose on oct 30th 5 am.

The building being of five stories, did not have elevators.

A hymn for redemption

Once was a time with no peril, where all for pride was a man’s heart not hs blade

Honour was under skin but not within a bullet,

With flowers growing, not conflict, with brotherhood gleaming but not war,

Once was a time with no peril, with green as prime, not blood, with honour measured with honesty not with battle,

Now, Gunshots fall like rain, instead of life, bringing pain, with screams of soldiers recalling remembarance,

Remembrance of those vast skies now painted with blood,

Remembrance of those green fields where now bodies flood,

Jesus gave his life for the people, Ram gave his life for his kingdom, Abraham sacrificed his daughter for god,

still our land suffers, battle shall be disrupted, disrupted by the mighty tides, war being forgotten, ending battle , ending battle, for the end of struggle, for the end of bloodshed, ending before humanity itself faces death.

THE BEGINING OF THE END: A RECORD OF DISASTER AND A HYMN FOR HOPE

Dear, Readers

To  put it all together, I have finished the serial story I had been working on, desiring to combine it all in one post, it is a fictonal representation of ‘THE END OF THE WORLD’ as we know it, Winston being the protagonist of this perilous tale, scrapping for hope in a world full of hopelessness.

ENJOY!

 

 

THE BEGINNING OF THE END: 2044 ENTRIES

Nobody had known how the world had begun, but now they all had faced the end, where all had faded, the cities lost their  name and turned into anarchy, the sun had lost its shine, and  people died of hunger , they transformed into animals , with a lifeless hard look struck between their eyes , their only desire was to survive . Jacob and I were staring out the window, looking for a safe moment to flee, as we had confined our life within this hut, with only 2 slices of bread left to gobble , we had been stranded on this unknown land, in an unknown space, with mum and dad nowhere to be seen, our only goal is to spare our lives for enough time , enough time to leave the land, leave the misery, leave the terror behind .  Without any time to preserve, we landed our feet on the ground and flashed towards the doorway, where we ran till our lungs were left with no breath, we stopped at a scene which was sure to be remembered by our pupils, stubbing our feet on the mud , we saw a stream of colorless water , trashed on all ends , it had been totally abolished by our revolts , this can also show how disgusting humanity can be , there is no end …. ,  SUDDENLY Our breath took a break as our vision was faded , our throats were clenched by a mysterious being , dragging us to torchure or even death… maybe this is the end ….

 

 We opened our eyes curiously, to peek out where we had ended, maybe we were in heaven, or maybe hell? , as our noses were interrupted by a tingling smell, and our eyes were struck, when they found our hands wrapped up  in cloth sticking up to a chair, we had in attempt a thought to escape, where we pushed our chairs towards the side reaching for the door, letting our foot struggle, to twist the knob open,  but a terrifying utter of sound infected our plot, repeating ‘ What are you doing?’ , our faces froze , being upon the presence of a tall shadow, with his face materializing off of the dark sky filled inside the room and  as he continued his talk, I had spotted a knife laying there , right  in front of me , and the dark color of the room had acted as a camouflage for my presence, keeping that in mind I hopped on my chair, forcing me towards the table , and I opened my mouth, clenching the knife with my teeth , applying a brink of its sharp side on the cloth passing my waist and attaching my hand to my body,  as it disembarked and fell on the ground , I had gotten up from the surface of my chair , as the shadow had been provoked , it ran towards me, as I threatened him with my knife , he stepped back , giving me time to unbind Jacob , and after that , I had grabbed Jacob’s shivering hand , and ran towards the door, with my feet crushing the pebbles which  slept on the steep road , letting my stance tremble , I dropped my knife , but continued , as I encountered a shadow sprinting like the devil , towards mine , I closed my eyes , hoped for the best , as my right hand loosened it’s wieght and felt cold, I glanced back , and Jacob was gone being dragged by the shadow that was unknown to me , as my brother rolled along the street , with his eyes screeching in pain , and I lost everything in his pain..

 

 

I pampered my breath , as I saw my only sibling disappear Into the darkness that was fed t the world  , dragged on by a shadow from a n unknown nightmare as I forced my feet towards the vision that had been lost in my eye , I fell , fell with no hope to live , but God had just so desired otherwise. I woke up in a shed , shed made from sticks and straw , as a figure stood beside me , and I didn’t hope anything good from him as he mumbled ” you are lucky to escape , and lucky that the Axe did not catch you” , I was puzzled by his statement , and replied ” who are the “axe” ” , he fumbled but sure did tell me , groaning with fear ” they are the people who made this city like this , they are capitalists that do not fear anybody ” , I encountered ” then why do they want my brother?” , he was flummoxed and terrified too , ” you’re brother? He has no chance to escape , the Axe don’t value your sibling , they capture you for slaves and to increase their ” illegal” cooperation, they want to conquer Britain in whole , to gain power and to destroy monarchy” , I was still coping up with the plot , just with the simple mission to free my brother, but as he continued, I interrupted his talk ” who are you ” , as he angrily spat out his identity with the ignorance I had applied to his earlier statement ” We are insects , rogues to be exact , men who can never be caught , and are planning to overcast the Axe with our cooperation ” , as I saw other shadows reflecting from the back , I had assumed to have gained a ” mysterious” acquaintance  but just maybe for the best.

shadows appeared from the back of his shadow, as he continued ” This is our corporation, there  are more scouting outside’, I interrupted his sentence with nervousness boiling at peak ‘ How exactly are you going to stop the Axe, and how will you save my brother , that  is the only thing I care about’ , he grinned and replied ‘ I said there are more and without doubt the three of us cannot stop the Axe, we are spread around the city and the world, as for your brother, he won’t be living’, I was provoked as I grabbed  and torn off collar , and furiously groaned ‘ I’m coming with you ‘ , but at that point, I knew I had no choice , and If I let my ego take care of this, I will probably die of death and added regret of letting go my brother’s life , so I attempted to add in a ‘please’ , as I let my lips make a little movement, as my voice struck back to one shadow, which stepped forward and made his statement ‘ Eugene , his eyes meet his talk , there is no way he can handle the cold sky and not even stand against the axe we shall help him , and he shall help us, this is war, and freeing his brother will cause a revolt and that..’ ‘Enough Celio! we will head there but first we shall familiarize him on  the mission we attempt to resolve ‘, and right then after  ‘Eugene’ had finished his conversation, another shadow picked up its pace, stepped forward smiled, ‘ Eugene you sure give a heart, and for the first time so far’ ,  Eugene interpreted his ‘perspective’ ‘Shut up , or I will cast you far away from this camp!’ , Celio had ignored the talk and begun with familiarizing me about, how I shall keep living, and how I will gain back the company of my sibling , ‘ Dear Old Boy, if you want to live, you listen to us , why? , because we are the  only living mass you shall find here, and the first rule we imply is to be armed , take this knife , and don’t use it until everything is gone and all goes wrong , as these ‘weapons’ are just for show , they grow fear within the enemy , spook the evil , but if we use that fear to crush somebody’s soul, we are evil not them, we are our own enemy, we will invade the Baker’s Prison to get back your brother, and gain reign over a piece of land, are You willing To survive?’ With no choice, I reply ‘Yes’, as my ear is struck with sounds of gunshots, with fear  bubbling inside my tummy

Gunshots blistered from the sky as Celio shouted ” Lower the defenses , they are here!” My skin had been textured as smooth and white as milk , with a particularly unfamiliar feeling , a feeling of anxiety , as it rolled my fingers into a fist shaking , but blinded by hope. Though when everybody had shriveled with terror , Eugene roared but with a calm face ” We are permitted to climb the walls from the back  and escape , as for now we shall cower , and for later meet their forces , so arm yourselves and let yourselves to escape , I will be right behind you” I obeyed his statements and headed to the wall with the knife I was given clenched within my reaches, as Celio guided me and assisted me to escape , we had all layed our feet on the red sand that there was as Eugene limped up the boundary wall , and landed , as we had lead our camp to be obstructed but had our breaths left for survival. Eugene headed towards a shack , which had indeed a useful item: a bright blue four wheeler, from there on I had always known for my company to be always organized , even in the moment of peril .as Celio climbed up , with Dan , the third companion who let me climb up to the backseat  , Eugene drove the wheel , with prepping us on the event ” we will sneak in through climbing up the wall , blinding the enemy , remember to let eyes be open and more then they ever were “. We reached the point where my brother had been entrapped, there were humongous walls surrounding the cells , which my eyes had no access to , but there were sure many men standing up on guard , but suddenly one had been provoked , sighting our wheeler , with one bullet left by his shot , heading towards us, ad we hoped for our lives to be spared.

Fear lured deep inside my soul, i had   no idea of where my brother was , as my eyes deceived me and poured me into the world that went beyond my imagination. Where  there were resembled all the feelings I had , all the fears I had , the doubts , and the assumptions , as I was summoned into a box made of glass.A one that stretched its posture and spread through the blue carpeting that was blissfully bestowed on the ground , suddenly the box had reflected my shadows , there were different tempers and different heights of my personality , represented on each side , I was encountering  a doubtful expression ,  shivering through its stature, it had words written down it’s face , one had been fonted hugely through the entity , calling ‘ FEARFUL’ , which resembled me the best , as i was entrapped , and suffocated , during this event that followed by predicted crisis , I no longer knew what expect from ‘god’ and where he would take me , I   am unsure of Jacob’s life , with no feeling of his presence , I am doubtful of what the hoard of rogues I tagged up with will bring to me , What celio expects of me , these aromas of my mind had aroused , out of unexpectance too. Suddenly the box slided that side of glass , letting me encounter , an other side of me, a side that twinkled with anger , anger that brought up questions screaming out why I was left here , why I am alive , and why did I fail to protect my brother…. tears rolled down my trembling pupils . It happened again , another expression filled up , an expression that represented hope , hope of my survival , hope of reuniting my family again , that hope , was the singular object that let me breathe again, Suddenly I appeared back into my life , when the bullet transacted by a soldier’s gun hit the winshield of our car , when it trembled , but still , there was a change in my expression , a feeling of consistence had willingly struck a shard in my heart , that SHARD screamed , screamed to convince me , negotiate a deal , demanding me to fight , fight till the world stops it’s ignorance to peace , and becomes better place to breathe.

I uncovered a mere part of a vision to my eyes, as I had appeared to be in a quite abnormal stature, trapped in a glass box, probably to be exterminated, with several other entities scattered around in glass containers as if they were fish, were they? They were. Caught by capitalist demons, the fishers. They were taken from thier sea of freedom,  from their grip, their hope had melted like butter, it’s  soothing taste was no longer present within the hearts of the innocent. The same had occurred to me, my heart struck eternal emptiness, it lost it’s beat, all I had left now was the orders given to me by those devilish fishers, the world had anyway ended, my brother had ended, I couldn’t spot him within this combustion of hopeless fish.Now, hope seemed to me like delusion, it made me fly, it was useless. In a sudden shock I spotted several recruits smashing everybody out of those refrigerators, everybody, lost, faded.

Life seemed like shallow waters to me, these recruits took me to a room, dressed me in armor, coated with black, as I screamed, screamed bringing remembrance of those who lost their lives the day I was luckily spared of mine. Celio, and the others. They thrashed me down to earth, handed me a pistol, handed me a knife, with what I could have rebelled against them, but they knew I wouldn’t, I had lost everything. But better was fighting than was sobbing I said to myself, fighting for the ones that are left, fighting not for the hopeless masses, not for the rich, not for the filthy, but for the whole race and it’s survival, I knew the Black Axe had a cunning plan, or else they wouldn’t plan to recruit thousands and spend millions on the making of nuclear weaponry. I too was now grasped into their  trap, I had become what Jacob wouldn’t have dared to love. These thoughts roamed the sky that existed within my mind, but fearlessly  I embraced this consequence, I embraced the end, for I knew what was to come, my fingers wrapped around the gun, the other hand saluted, saluted not for these demons, even though they were the ones who would gain survival, it saluted for humanity. We were given orders of a scout, a scout for more men, for escaped prisoners, we were all shoved into a cart, a jeep, where it’s wheels  rattled and rolled upon the wasted land, pushing the jeep, as I glared into other’s eyes, one seemed hopeless like me and one had something in his hand, no matter how foolish it may sound in my entry, it was…. It was a cross. Yes, a cross, crafted authentically, he kissed it, seemingly wrapped in bliss, even though he had suffered terribly, he believed in something that wasn’t even sure of existence! was going to counter him but something struck me, even though he lost everything, he didn’t lose the company of god, of religion, of ‘eternal’ hope. As the recruit screamed ‘ Come on, maggots! There’s the camp!’ I looked to the man bearing the cross, and said ‘ This is hope for you, isn’t it, this is the only thing you have left’ and he replied ‘ Yes, I will die for these demons, but I will fight for god, you should the same, winston’. As we grinned at each other, a glimmer of hope seemed to embrace me, he was right, but I still was lonely, as he wasn’t beside me. I stormed towards the rebels, remembering the sight of those I once fought with, but this was what destiny desired, I whispered to the rebels ‘ It’s not bad, This is whats left, join us, join us’. Some were wise, some listened, some rebelled, on whom I pulled the trigger.

I was rewarded for my heroism on the battlefield, I was rewarded a position in thier ‘elite’ army, my existence was rewarded, I was no longer a captive. Months had passed since my grieving, the priest granted me hope, but may have been slaughtered and hopefully given to god. Now the plan I knew. The black axe formulated a ‘ship’ which can easily drift as such as a rocket, to inhabit a planet, that’s why they slaved, they killed, for the survival of their own race, I knew now, it was a cruel world. Survival is the only motive now for man, that I also knew. I had survived, escaped from this world of horror, I was free! But still bathed in sorrow, for he lured inside my grudged soul, why couldn’t I find him, I wondered. Now the end had ended, I was intending to dismiss this ‘journal routine’, then a miracle happened. The sirens screeched and echoed through the hallways, I stormed to execute the traitors who were possibly wandering for the collection of information, rather a wise choice. I gripped my revolver, with fingers hugging the trigger, as  I fearlessly aimed the weapon towards the enemy, obeying my eternal duty, with seconds seperating me from pulling that trigger, as something struck me. Is it him? I wondered, were my hopes more than just meaningless dreams? was he alive all this time I greifed?Yes he was. it was him. There he stood, the blue eyes, those frail hands, he may have been small but fiery, my brother. as he came as an enemy, to revolt against the black axe, picturizing my death, but at the end our existence wasnt erased. I jumped into his vision, as brothers had been reunited unexpectedly from the mouth of disaster. We once again  embraced,   as The soldiers stormed, aiming at him,  I protected him, grinning. the general came into our meet,    he was indeed the mighty soldier Priest I had met months ago, he smiled, gave us our moment, for him, I have to thank now, my brother was saved from the claws of death. The others had to be killed. This was the bitter  truth. But as I hugged my companion, I wondered, maybe, just maybe the world wasn’t hopeless. Sure, my family had been torn, sure the end came with fearful might, sure hundreds were slaved and millions had died, but as the priest told me, ‘Winston, they had lost something that might have spared them thier life, they had lost will. The will to survive, the will to dig their head off from dirt, from ruin’.

So, the world met it’s end, the end met it’s end, but for us, this was the beginning, the beginning of redemption, the begining of survival, for us this was the announcement of a new life.

—–  Admiral Winston Nadrav, Project united.

……………TO BE CONTINUED………………………………..

A GLIMMER OF HOPE: THE SOLDIER PRIEST: THE BEGINNING OF THE END; PART 8: THE ENDING

Dear, Readers

I rested in silence for quite a while, but finally end the tale of ‘The Beginning of the end’ be sure to read the other 6 parts written before, for I  have attempted to prove hope is found in the most hopeless situations, in the most hopeless ways. I hope you enjoy! I also do oath to write every day, may it be a few words, for this for me is a way of life.

———- ENJOY———

 

 

 

I uncovered a mere part of a vision to my eyes, as I had appeared to be in a quite abnormal stature, trapped in a glass box, probably to be exterminated, with several other entities scattered around in glass containers as if they were fish, were they? They were. Caught by capitalist demons, the fishers. They were taken from thier sea of freedom,  from their grip, their hope had melted like butter, it’s  soothing taste was no longer present within the hearts of the innocent. The same had occurred to me, my heart struck eternal emptiness, it lost it’s beat, all I had left now was the orders given to me by those devilish fishers, the world had anyway ended, my brother had ended, I couldn’t spot him within this combustion of hopeless fish.Now, hope seemed to me like delusion, it made me fly, it was useless. In a sudden shock I spotted several recruits smashing everybody out of those refrigerators, everybody, lost, faded.

Life seemed like shallow waters to me, these recruits took me to a room, dressed me in armor, coated with black, as I screamed, screamed bringing remembrance of those who lost their lives the day I was luckily spared of mine. Celio, and the others. They thrashed me down to earth, handed me a pistol, handed me a knife, with what I could have rebelled against them, but they knew I wouldn’t, I had lost everything. But better was fighting than was sobbing I said to myself, fighting for the ones that are left, fighting not for the hopeless masses, not for the rich, not for the filthy, but for the whole race and it’s survival, I knew the Black Axe had a cunning plan, or else they wouldn’t plan to recruit thousands and spend millions on the making of nuclear weaponry. I too was now grasped into their fishing trap, I had become what Garrison wouldn’t have dared to love. These thoughts roamed the sky that existed within my mind, but fearlessly  I embraced this consequence, I embraced the end, for I knew what was to come, my fingers wrapped around the gun, the other hand saluted, saluted not for these demons, even though they were the ones who would gain survival, it saluted for humanity. We were given orders of a scout, a scout for more men, for escaped prisoners, we were all shoved into a cart, a jeep, where it’s wheels  rattled and rolled upon the wasted land, pushing the jeep, as I glared into other’s eyes, one seemed hopeless like me and one had something in his hand, no matter how foolish it may sound in my entry, it was…. It was a cross. Yes, a cross, crafted authentically, he kissed it, seemingly wrapped in bliss, even though he had suffered terribly, he believed in something that wasn’t even sure of existence! was going to counter him but something struck me, even though he lost everything, he didn’t lose the company of god, of religion, of ‘eternal’ hope. As the recruit screamed ‘ Come on, maggots! There’s the camp!’ I looked to the man bearing the cross, and said ‘ This is hope for you, isn’t it, this is the only thing you have left’ and he replied ‘ Yes, I will die for these demons, but I will fight for god, you should the same, winston’. As we grinned at each other, a glimmer of hope seemed to embrace me, he was right, but I still was lonely, as he wasn’t beside me. I stormed towards the rebels, remembering the sight of those I once fought with, but this was what destiny desired, I whispered to the rebels ‘ It’s not bad, This is whats left, join us, join us’. Some were wise, some listened, some rebelled, on whom I pulled the trigger.

I was rewarded for my heroism on the battlefield, I was rewarded a position in thier ‘elite’ army, my existence was rewarded, I was no longer a captive. Months had passed since my grieving, the priest granted me hope, but may have been slaughtered and hopefully given to god. Now the plan I knew. The black axe formulated a ‘ship’ which can easily drift as such as a rocket, to inhabit a planet, that’s why they slaved, they killed, for the survival of their own race, I knew now, it was a cruel world. Survival is the only motive now for man, that I also knew. I had survived, escaped from this world of horror, I was free! But still bathed in sorrow, for he lured inside my grudged soul, why couldn’t I find him, I wondered. Now the end had ended, I was intending to dismiss this ‘journal routine’, then a miracle happened. The sirens screeched and echoed through the hallways, I stormed to execute the traitors who were possibly wandering for the collection of information, rather a wise choice. It was him. There he stood, the blue eyes, those frail hands, he may have been small but fiery. I jumped into his vision, as brothers had been reunited, unexpectedly. We embraced. The soldiers stormed, they aimed at him,  I grinned. As the general came into our meet,    he was indeed the Soldier Priest I had met months ago, he smiled, gave us our moment, for him, I have to thank now, my brother was saved from the claws of death. The others had to be killed. This was the truth. But as I hugged my companion, I wondered, maybe, just maybe the world wasn’t hopeless. Sure, my family had been torn, sure the end came with fearful might, sure hundreds were slaved and millions had died, but as the priest told me, ‘Winston, they had lost something that might have spared them thier life, they had lost will. The will to survive, the will to dig their head off from dirt, from ruin’.

 

So, the world met it’s end, the end met it’s end, but for us, this was the beginning, the beginning of redemption, the begining of survival, for us this was the announcement of a new life.

—–  Admiral Winston Nadrav, Project united.

 

……………TO BE CONTINUED………………………………..

 

SEE YA!

THE PIT OF ROME: MY PERILS IN THE NEW WORLD: PART 01: PHILOSOPHICAL FICTION TRILOGY

Greetings, Readers

I have failed yet to post upon my blog , but I return with another intriguing but yet  insightful tale, the time during the rennaisance, but yet the story has just taken it’s start, with the second part in progress, I hope I have not fallen from your expectation, enjoy….

Dear,  mother

I have arrived, arrived to a part of the world where everything has an answer and where everything is yet being questioned, yet that is the reason a torn page can travel across the globe! it’s startling!But I still capture rememberance of those free lands, with no distress, with no pressure, but to live we have to earn, this was the cruel truth that came onto my realisation as a mere 20 year old frail man. Though I still traveled some miles off Spain, it still seems different, rather alien. The world has changed, changed into something we did not expect, you shall not know when man will reach the skies, or see what is outside this ‘world’ though I assume we are trapped in a endless void , discoveries still intervene, for the mind of a traveller can’t match a mind of a mathematician, like Coppernicus, but I am glad to not take part in that lot for I heard of how he was treated for his belief, so I take upon the decision to not spray upon curiousity upon everything, for I will come out as a pile of ashes  in bliss, although curiousity has no end. But as I am present in the new world , I am yet struck by the thought of you, the one who raised me into a brave traveller, as I did this for you, and for our family, to drag us out of the peril of finance, for I still am reminded of those days of freedom, where you did not require coins of metal or notes of green to live another day, but today is different and tomorrow will change, and so will the people, the only thing we can hope upon is for time to drag us to  a successful life.

Farewell for now…..

Raymond Perez, Your Son

 

 

 

After applying ink onto my letter , ink to my words , I remembered a glance of my alluring mother with a blank canvas  of a mind, here I sat, letting my mind wander on its own, from the world’s perspective, I think about how us humans have grown, from mindless creatures to scientific and intelligible minds, when we used to be oblivious of our own presence, and now when we think beyond our own breath our own imagination , wait that’s it! IMAGINATION , that’s what makes us different from other beings, from other animals,   and so, as I stood up  from the tiled stairs, I glared along the new world I had been introduced to, with objects that could enable a mere figure to stroll through the entire country, it was the cart, from which I came upon, to the city of innovation, the country of rennaisance, which dragged me towards itself, for I was to earn for my family  for them to live another day , life had begun with it’s struggle. Being a man the pressure had smoked towards my direction, in Spain we were merely earning a penny, as revolutions and revolts had struck like wildfire, it was upon me to roam the far seas to the new world and unexpectedly  I didn’t lose the grasp of my breath, like many great travellers did while their voyage. As I strolled through the stuffed and crowded narrow streets, there were people of many ethnicities bustling through everywhere, around the great structure, known as the ‘Amphitheatre’ as well, the people informing of what torchure occurs inside for the purpose of mere entertainment.

This told me  some humans have power, have might, but that might is misused of, for self benefit, harming the life of others for personal satisfaction, but this philosophy of mine had seemed impotent, and useless, for I was a frail traveller,  just introduced to the traditions of the new dimension,  coming here to earn a few pennies. Strolling through, I spotted figures that were feeble , shriveled and shrinked in despair, struck with fear, walking with chains, giving me remembarence of the cruelty of us men, for we cannot be angels, but we can be devils, for our downfall is always stronger than our uprise and it can be difficult preventing it’s influence. In short notice, I was reminded of the letter I had scribbled onto, dedicated to my mother, which resulted me to boost, through the moaning slaves, through the polished paths, to spot the post office, but I knew not of roman, increasing the quantity of my perils, my legs racing each other in continous motion, finally reaching a pause, fumbling, feeling a heavy pull, into the dark void, with the letter losing it’s significance to my tale, my eyes being shuttered from the vision of reality.

A child’s utopia : CH 1

Dear, Readers

I have yet to reveal to you a work seen from a child’s perspective , with the first chunk of the story unveiling itself to you…… with hope that you will enjoy it, I shall release the second chunk and the ‘plot’ shortly……….. being a work I had been writing through the vacations

 

We were Fathoming alone in an abundant night , with nobody to be seen , we clunched  our bedsheets with this fool of  a feeling called ‘Terror; , just me and my brother while he ended up snoring with delight , I was  in desire of dreams which kept me from darkness , and perhaps that maybe somewhere around in my closet , which was normal like any other with handles and rakish paint on the slick panels of wood too. I was restless , rolling around here and there making a mess out of the poignantly covered bed , I intended just to hold my brother’s hand and fall into deep and delicious sleep , but it seemed otherwise ; as my eyes fell upon that closet , something was streching it’s odor , and this was ENOUGH , I stretched my throat and with  quite  habit , gulping every second , when I opened the doors creaking with a silent creep which roused fear upon my skin ; and there it was , an empty space , but when I leapt forward I was astounded by the presence of an abnormal entity  coated with  a stormy shiver , with a bowtie attached to his clothed neck , and a  quite deformed helmet , with dark tinted glass , on the whole , and followed by the bowtie there seemed a coat , not like any other, it was glittering with gold , with buttons attached to each nook ; of rather ‘alien’ fashion I reckon , and  his legs were covered by  the sewing of a shirt ( here I speak of not the type that woman wore , but of the roman rule , as the entity was masculine from my rough prediction) that skirt was red and striped with white , his skirt was right above his legs , which seemed like ones of a reptile , sturdy  and green , with huge claws sprouting about the sockets of his toe , this yet was the only exposed part of his body , and all I was visible to until I fainted into nothingness ; and woke up in a scenery which seemed metalic , as if  all the walls were dipped into steel , and all I could spot was a entity with the same clothes in a uniform routine, and murmmered with the same accent as me , in the same language , ‘Hello my aqquainted settler , I look to you in a friendly manner , as an abnormal source” I was quite afraid but with that fearless aggression which you shall dive  into a situation of radical strangeness I seemed to reply ‘where am I’ driven into the endless fear of ‘loneliness’ with no clue of where I was or rather where I am going  to be…..

Insults on the existent dimension: pt 1 A SMALL VERSE ON THE MARKET

Dear, Readers

I have formulated  a poetical series which seems to fool around a bit, I suggest you check it out yourself! it’s a verse on the things I detest, and one of them is of course the weary strategy of rocketing up price of things not worthy……

These days we are fooled, these  days we  are deceived, for even a mere  grain of rice is exagerated of it’s price,

it is not the crunch that makes it special, nor the spice, it is the advertisment on the packet that makes us buy that product twice ,

For they are the lions and we are the mice, they chase us for each and every dime, sometimes they leave us in the frame of a mime, who is trapped in invisible misery and the same is for us, for they force us to not buy what we must but buy in to their unwilling trust,

If you wonder on what I ponder about, take a look at yourselves, name one thing that you bought from your desire, not because of that foolish flyer,