Author Topic: Walking with Death  (Read 1771 times)

Offline Tom.

  • Sr. Member
  • ****
  • Location: Struggleville
  • Posts: 2149
  • Naive
Walking with Death
« on: March 28, 2016, 12:46:38 PM »
Foreword: The story will involve heavy and dark themes, with adult content riddled in every chapter. The content will not reflect the intentions of the writer, but rather is a creative process revolving a character.

Relapse

"You don't know the meaning of fear."

"You live your lives in times of petty conflict, addiction to sex, drugs and wealth."

"Your attraction to one another is nothing more than physical, enjoying curvy waists and gentle kisses and mindless fucking with misinterpretation of lust for true love."

"You swear loyalty as you sneak around your lover's back and sleep with their best friend. As you bend a knee to your higher, you quietly deviate their execution to usurp their power."

"You die and reincarnate with opportunity to change what you once were but deny yourself. You commit the same mistakes, step into the same traps and trust the same serpents."

"Your claims of fighting corruption are hypocritical spit you throw upon your own beliefs as you seek to fight a war while your own house is in turmoil."

"But you love what you are and what you do."

"Don't you?"


What does it mean to live?

   "F-fuck. I can barely even think straight." It was cold. Freezing. His body shivered and grew numb as the chill of the winter air overwhelmed him. He was soaking wet, frost began to kiss at the tips of his fingers and tingles soon replaced the light nips with pins and needles that had him trembling.
   "Okay..-" he breathed out, mist lacing into the air with every word spoken. "-So I'm not dead yet." A glance at the distant and fading cone of lights breaking through the water's surface was reminder of where he once was. Mere seconds before.
   A sudden lurch had him keeling over to the side, bitter acid rose up his throat and he choked and retched as he vomited until there was nothing left in his stomach and the burn at the back of his mouth was unmistakable.
   He shuddered as he gathered his bearings and scooted away from the mess that colored blanketed white. Bright eyes studiously ran up to the broken guard rails of the overpass, the sheer thirty-foot drop and the coursing of a cold and violent river.
   "But h-hypothermia won't take too long before it sets in.. so I've got that going for me." He lied. He was terrified out of his mind, but whether that was attributed to his attempts, or the ghastly figure that dragged him out of the submerged car was up for interpretation.
   
   His body desperately trembled, muscles shivered in feeble attempts to compensate for the overwhelming numbness that now extended to his hands. His mind ran rampant with recollection of what had just happened. The confidence he once had as he rolled the steering wheel sharply to the side, as metal crunched and snapped under momentum of a Civic breaking through protective railing, as a second ticked by before there was a distinct splash of water and the snowy flakes wafting down the air were replaced by a frightening clear blue that surrounded him.
   That's when the fear set in. He hopelessly tried to get off his seat belt as the car turned up to grant him sight of the fading light that was the surface, the sheer distance between sweet oxygen and a cold and icy death. His life didn't flash before his eyes. He felt his heart pound within his chest and threaten to break free, he felt his eyes burn with bitter and scared tears that didn't spill. Then there it was.
   As if something dragged out of hell itself, a ghastly figure with tattered clothing without face appeared on the other side. It reached out to him, as its fingertips met the windshield it shattered. As it daringly pushed forward it moved past the protective barrier, a cold and icy touch met his wrist where he was grasped. Everything slowly faded to black, his heart slowed and everything grew murky. He was freezing.. but he eventually warmed.
   In what seemed like mere seconds, everything suddenly jutted back into focus but it wasn't quite the same. Colour was now in shades of gray, white and black. His breath rushed out of his lungs - accompanied with water he choked out as oxygen ran into his lungs to replace the frigid liquid. He couldn't tell if tears had already ran down his cheeks, but he felt a sting along the corners of his eyes as he looked around hopelessly.

   Within minutes the darkness of the clear night sky was replaced with the spin of red and blue, the quiet chatter and low whispers broke the silence, a blanket was wrapped over his shoulders captured what little warmth clung to his shivering frame. He looked around but didn't hear a word, or maybe he didn't simply care to listen.
   He watched as a middle-aged woman mouthed out words to an officer jotted down something upon a note-pad. As another pair of headlights drew closer, as a driver's side door was thrown open and a far more familiar woman walked-ran towards him and wrapped her arms around him. She thanked some higher being he was still alive but he couldn't make out the words that left her lips.
   It was all a blur aside from the family of three, a mother and father who held a young girl - no older than eight, between them in an embrace. Even then.. there was a strange air about them, something seemed not quite so right. There was also four teenagers, one of them swayed on his feet while another male and female held each other, there were bruises on their necks and their hands remained laced together, all seemed to have scrapes and bruises along their arms, one had blood at the corner of their lips. There was an angry looking man and a girl, bound and gagged who seemed to be crying without a sound. They seemed to be dripping wet but they didn't shiver.
   They were staring back at him as he was coaxed into the rear of the ambulance, as the exchange of red and blue lights were dismissed from view once the doors were closed.

   "I-I'm okay mom. It was an accident.." He reassured her as she nervously glanced around, while an EMT began to administrate standard medical protocol.
   He lied.


The Good Death

   “Clarence Fitzgerald, for your crimes against the wheel you will be granted the Good Death.” He began as he adjusted the .44 set underneath his chin. Analytical gaze seemed critical of the man, his voice was stern but it didn’t lack emotion. There was anger vivid within the Magi’s eyes but it was stoked,  it seemed to contrast the chapters of fear within the target’s eyes.
   “You will die, it will be cold and painful, but you have a chance at being reborn as something new.”
   “I’m s-sorry..” choked out the man, middle-aged, balding, a set of crooked glasses clinging to his face.
   “No, you’re not.”
   Bang.
   Bang-Bang.

   His eyes wandered back as a streak of red and blue illuminated the cul-de-sac. Sirens followed the bright lights, at first it was one, then there was two and three and four..
   Wafts of air brushed against him as the cars barreled down the road. Cherry nub on the end of his cigarette glowed brighter with every brush of smoke that filled his lungs. Cold blue eyes contrasted the heat within his throat, the strokes of smoke that ascended from his lips into the dark night sky.
   There was a lone phone booth at the corner of a street, unoccupied but within moments he entered and shut the door behind himself.
   Someone stared back at him as he peered out the glass. A man stared back at him. Frigid gaze. There was facial hair along his jaw and chin. His hair easily fell just short of his shoulders.
   “It's you.”
   “I know.”
   His hand was upon the receiver just as it began ringing, there were three tones released before he picked it up and brought it to his ear.
   “Did you–”
   “I did. He won't be harming any more children.”
    There was a quiet click and then a dead tone buzzed within his ear as he brought the receiver back down to its appropriate slot.

   It felt like it was merely days before when he'd experienced the small death. There was cold, there was freezing and biting abundance of it as his heart struggled to warm his hypothermic body. Then there was warmth as he grew sleepy, as he allowed darkness to envelop him in its thrall.
   His eyes wandered as he was allowed sight. There was spirits and morbidity in the air, some carried light auras around them while others were nothing more than dark silhouettes and stumbling corpses. Just as briefly as it had welcomed him, it was gone. Blackness once more.
   His mouth fell open as he gasped for sweet air, as a twinge of color brightened his pallor and as his life and spirit slowly set back within him.
   “Do you understand what it means to be part of us?” she asked. Her large innocent eyes did no justice to the numbers she'd taken for the tradition. If she'd gained a year for every life she claimed, she could remain a small young girl forever.
   “I do.”

   Then he was back within the poorly lit motel room. Half-undressed there were streaks of ash along his torso, a sole candle in front of him was the only company that dared linger around him.
   There was not a single stirring within the room, be it mouse or angry wraith that felt set on bothering and disturbing his process.
   Quiet susurration of Sanskrit fell past his lips, he felt himself grow even colder as the small flame flickered. Then his breath escaped him and a cool waft of air breezed around the room. For a mere second, a familiar figure stood before him.
   It wasn't ghastly anymore. Corpse-like appearance had become feminine, empty visage took on gentle and nearly kind features. There was but a silent moment exchanged as he looked up at her, as he felt the weight of his actions lift themselves as did her robe. There was the extension of dark ebony wings spreading and then she was gone once more.
   The candle blew out.

   There was darkness once more,  and the familiar traffic of spirit and anything alike picked up once more. Quiet was disturbed by a sole sound that shattered his peace.
   Knock.
   Knock.
   Knock.


Time itself

   A quiet breath escapes him, several choice curse words leave his lips as the familiar rumble of an engine dies and stops. Steely eyes run across the gauges, the upturned pins and the steam billowing from the closed hood of the vehicle.
   "Looks like the engine's fucked, what should we do about it Charles?"
   Silence.
   "Charles?"
   More silence.
   His head turns, eyes snap over and the dawning realisation comes to him that he's alone. There was no Dreamspeaker, no Verbena, no Euthanatos, no Time mage. There wasn't familiarity. There was silence.
  
   He pushed his car door open, stepping out onto the gravel which crunched underneath his boot. He pulled open the hood but steam greeted him and caused him to pull away, to retreat from the hot vapor and clear signs nothing would be working anytime soon.
   His courage plummeted and he felt dread creeping around his soul, yet something pushed him forward. Move. Don't stop. Keep on going.
   The path before him seemed endless, what seemed like a short walk towards a farmhouse as unseen eyes watched him extended to a trek that had him counting every step he took.
   Twenty-seven..
   Twenty-eight..
   Ninety..
   He lost count.
   A flurry of visions plagued his mind, a storm crashed down over the farmhouse, a woman laboriously pushed and a beating heart raced before coming to a halt. A newborn's cry broke the silence and the quiet shushing of an old man pacified it.

   His eyes slowly opened. He was on the ground.
   His vision blurred for a moment, but he slowly and steadily rose up to his feet as he awoke in front of a rocking chair and an old man chewing on tobacco.
   Who is he?
   Her guidance.
   "I'm sorry. I know there's a 'No Trespassing' sign out front, but my car broke down. Do you have anyone who can give it a look so I can get going?"
   Silence.
   "Excuse me?"
   More silence.
   Brooke's hand extended and settled upon the man's shoulder to try and get his attention--
   It was storming. Two men in dark black suits, hats and mirror shades stood outside the farmhouse door. One pounded on the door.
   "Come out, we're here to speak to a Marcus Allen," His voice was monotone but his knocks rivaled the thunder.
   The door slowly opened and the same old man was about to speak, only to be grasped and dragged out.
   Sounds of struggle followed. Hits landed on a body. A gunshot broke out through the night. A heavy thud.
   Bang.
   Bang-Bang.

   Get up.
   He did. He didn't remember blacking out, but he was against the old floorboards, and rose - just a bit more quickly than before, although a headache plagued his mind as he stepped through.
   He stepped off and approached the garage, at least the building he assumed it was before felt time trickle to a stop.
   Behind you. Move.
   His head turned slightly and he stared at the bright headlights. He was like a doe who'd been caught in the middle of the road. He froze. The car didn't.
   Blackness.
   He died.

   No. Do it again.
   The same headlights were in front of him, but this time, it seemed to slow to a halt. Everything was still in motion, but it was as if it was briefly suspended.
   Move.
   He did. He pushed off his heel and threw himself aside, narrowly avoiding the vehicle that barreled down the same area where he was once standing.
   He almost ate dirt, but he pushed himself up to his feet and saw the red pickup truck swerve and crash into a tree. Steam billowed from its engine. Nobody stepped out.
   Don't stop moving.
   He didn't. He approached the garage, the door opened almost as if inviting him. A single bare bulb swung lazily over the room, but almost as soon as he stepped inside everything faded to black.
   A girl took her first few steps towards an older man, he held his arms out for her as she unsteadily walked and then fell into his arms. There was warm laughter from him.
   She watched with wide eyes as a small black kitten approached her, touching noses with her. She squeezed it and hugged it, and the kitten purred.
   She was looking out a window silently. Bare dirt shifted into grass. Trees turned orange and fall colours were replaced by a blanket of white. Again, and again. The cycles flew by within the blink of an eye.

   He swayed slightly and felt lightheaded. Warmth trickled along his hair from his forehead, and his vision blurred as he stood.
   He wasn't standing. He looked down and saw his feet were bound. He was suspended and above him rested the floor. Other large hunks of raw meat hung beside him.
   He felt a set of burly hands grasp him, they lifted him and eventually set him down on a table. The quiet rumble of something broke the silence and his head turned just far enough to see the rotation of teeth leaning in towards his torso.
   Stop him.
   I can't!
   Yes. You can.
   I don't have my magi-..
   You ARE magick.
   There was no Sanskrit muttered, there was little focus on his Chi and Chakras.
   There was command.
   Stop.
   The chainsaw buffered for a second, sputtering before it ultimately died and was rendered useless.
   The burly and masked man looked at it in confusion and then pulled out a dangerously large blade. Even from behind a mask, Brooke could tell there was a wicked grin there.
   The chains by his feet crumbled to dust and there was no more bindings keeping him down. His body twisted, the knife was swung at him but Arthur deftly avoided it, knocking it out of the male's hand. A second hand connected with his mask, it shattered underneath the sheer amount of force, determination and will behind it.
   He fell back and hit the ground. David and Goliath. Arthur pushed off the table and reached for the knife, bringing it to his hands as he loomed over the unconscious man.
   Make him suffer.
   No.
   Do it.
   His arm raised and the blade was brought over to the male's stomach-
   I said NO.
   His arm stopped.
   You've changed.
   I have.
   He aligned it with the male's heart, there was a quiet prayer and blessing briefly muttered before it was pushed and cleanly met the pumping muscle. Mere second were what it took before it stopped.
   Swift.
   There was pain, but not any more than was needed.
   He had to remember.

   There was a door. His hand found that it was unlocked. Opening it slowly, he stepped through and walked forward.
   There was a girl sitting on a bed.
   That's her.
   He approached her slowly, he could feel the resonance from her already.
   He looked up and stared at him, reaching for a doll. He raised his hand and spoke up.
   "I'm not going to hurt you."
   She hesitated for a moment but lowered them down and hugged her teddy bear. A cat stepped out from underneath the bed and hopped onto it, staring at him.
   The distance between the three was closed as Arthur neared her, easing down to a knee as he looked at her from an equal level.
   "I'm not like the others."
   She looked up at his eyes, searching them for sincerity.
   She found it.
   Within moments she was within his arms, crying and sobbing silently. It was as if a burden had been raised. The entire place was overwhelmed with a peace and quiet.
   "You're going to leave like everyone el-.."
   "I'm not letting go."

   Old farmhouse became a home in the town.
   Sitting on the grass, he carefully looked at the girl, she wasn't as pale anymore. She wasn't malnourished and seemed a bit healthier than before.
   There was still much work to be done, but that all came with time itself.
   "But my book, I nee-.."
   "No, Milly. Listen..
   "You ARE magick."
« Last Edit: May 08, 2016, 07:12:53 PM by Tom. »

Offline Tom.

  • Sr. Member
  • ****
  • Location: Struggleville
  • Posts: 2149
  • Naive
Flirting with Death
« Reply #1 on: March 28, 2016, 12:46:53 PM »
   “We break over a ridge and leave the last rotting tire behind us. The ferns on the other side are green waves in an emerald sea. Two ancient redwoods sprout from them. I think of pillars dividing the known from the unknown, the living from the dead.
   “Brooke sits, and the sun hits him just right as he braces against the huge root to get comfortable. He breathes the breath of a god and the golden light frames him as if it recognizes his strength: the right to do what we do.
   “Then the root blackens and the tree shakes and the green sea around him turns brown and withered. Brooke opens his eyes, and I can tell — he knows that despite the bullshit he's been feeding me about coping, you can't find a place where the doom won't follow.”


War. What is it good for?

   Brooke glances around. Empty. A moment's glimpse had the dreary landscape replaced. Dark storm clouds became a shining sun, the howl of the wind blowing through empty huts became children laughing. It was brimming and bustling with life, and then with the blink of an eye it was a husk of what it once was.
   Not even a spirit stirred. It was like someone draped a blanket over the landscape and smothered it until it stopped kicking. He stood up and neared the lonely huts and neglected gardens. There wasn't a single thing out of place. It was almost as if everything disappeared. It was there, and now it wasn't.
   She placed a hand on his shoulder, his muscles tensed for a moment until her familiar presence was recognized. He didn't turn around to face her. He held the stitched doll within his hand and stared at it. His brows furrowed, the same look he gave when he was reading someone.
   “We need to get going now. It's already late.”
   “People don't just get up and leave.
   “They don't just disappear without a trace. Everything they had is right here. Why would they just drop it? What was so important that they didn't even have the time to gather their belongings?”

   She didn't respond immediately. His questions were rhetorical, and just as she predicted he soon continued.
   “That's because they didn't. They were taken someplace by something.”
   Great. That only leaves the question of where does an entire tribe disappear to. He didn't have an answer to that.
    They could walk all they wanted, but the doom would follow.
« Last Edit: May 18, 2016, 09:36:07 PM by Tom. »

Offline Tom.

  • Sr. Member
  • ****
  • Location: Struggleville
  • Posts: 2149
  • Naive
Re: Walking with Death
« Reply #2 on: March 28, 2016, 12:47:09 PM »
Reserved.

Offline Tom.

  • Sr. Member
  • ****
  • Location: Struggleville
  • Posts: 2149
  • Naive
Re: Walking with Death
« Reply #3 on: March 28, 2016, 12:47:25 PM »
Reserved.

Offline Tom.

  • Sr. Member
  • ****
  • Location: Struggleville
  • Posts: 2149
  • Naive
Re: Walking with Death
« Reply #4 on: March 28, 2016, 12:47:40 PM »
Reserved.

Feel free to comment on the story now.
Cheers.

Offline Diplo

  • pokemon master
  • Trial Administrator
  • Full Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 758
  • benchod number 1
Re: Walking with Death
« Reply #5 on: March 28, 2016, 03:34:26 PM »
always love reading your work

Offline Caroline_Beggins

  • Full Member
  • ***
  • Location: Egypt.
  • Posts: 1074
  • Mages Op.
Re: Walking with Death
« Reply #6 on: March 28, 2016, 03:38:19 PM »
then we found out how even in a parallel universe, wade can't be funny

I will ban him for a month and tell our mom what he did.

Offline Tom.

  • Sr. Member
  • ****
  • Location: Struggleville
  • Posts: 2149
  • Naive
Re: Walking with Death
« Reply #7 on: March 31, 2016, 05:26:26 PM »
I appreciate the feedback. Sorry for the delay, but I barely kicked myself to write out a chapter while in class.
Updated, new chapter is: The Good Death

Offline Tom.

  • Sr. Member
  • ****
  • Location: Struggleville
  • Posts: 2149
  • Naive
Re: Walking with Death
« Reply #8 on: May 08, 2016, 07:13:19 PM »
New chapter. Time itself.

Offline Caroline_Beggins

  • Full Member
  • ***
  • Location: Egypt.
  • Posts: 1074
  • Mages Op.
Re: Walking with Death
« Reply #9 on: May 12, 2016, 03:52:12 PM »
Haven't eve nreached the new chapter yet but so far it's stunning.
then we found out how even in a parallel universe, wade can't be funny

I will ban him for a month and tell our mom what he did.

Offline Makonius

  • Full Member
  • ***
  • Posts: 103
Re: Walking with Death
« Reply #10 on: May 15, 2016, 01:05:50 AM »
Let me tell ya, this is quality storytelling. It's cohesive and you use the kind of style I love in the descriptive bits.

I love the parental advisory in the foreword. Warms my heart to see someone baring in mind this community's younger audiences. Stay in school, kids.

Offline Tom.

  • Sr. Member
  • ****
  • Location: Struggleville
  • Posts: 2149
  • Naive
Re: Walking with Death
« Reply #11 on: May 18, 2016, 09:37:12 PM »
New Chapter. It's to be continued.