dwiguitar
07-02-2011, 09:21 AM
Before you start reading, please read this synopsis, because the way this story is narrated may be confusing:
"This is a story about two characters struggling with their lives, each in different but significant ways. One is a common teenager who just wants to fit in somewhere, and the other is a tormented, almost supernatural being who tries to break free of a cycle of torment. The two stories (one narrated by the tortured being, the other told to us) begin with no relation, but slowly knot and form a nice and tidy tie. It is divided in three chapters."
The ghoul in the office by LKParadis.
Chapter 1: A boy and a ghost.
The hour is nigh!
The Elder speaks the signal of the closure.
My bones are fractured, the husk is dry!
A noxious demon’s mark is branded on my fingertip.
“A coin, if you will. To pay the ferryman”.
But gold’s worth nothing where I’m going.
A den of torture and madness where shadows frighten and strangle the hopes and dreams of man. A temple devoted to the most perverse insanity. Pillars heightened to nurture a Homeric gallery – of fiendish blood, a family.
Mechanic winds freeze down my spine. Here I sit, rippling through limbo on this bullion behemoth, corpses millennia old fueling his thunder driven wrath. The iron joints come to a halt.
Dear lord above! Foul ghouls below! Save me or slay me, if indeed the foreign realms thou roam!
The fiery pits of Hades are a charm. A poltergeist I’ll face a thousand times. Spare me this torment, O powers of the divine. Shroud me in flames, ye ogres of the night. I curse thee! Cursed be this night, as the night and nights before, for I am forsaken in this cavern – Plato’s own devilry.
Onwards I go, onwards to slaughter. A mocking symbol burns before me:
“SALVE!”
The Ostium has opened, it’s baleful powers are beckoning me.
__________________________________________________ _______
It was ten past eight . The alarm had already ceased it’s daily screeching, but sleep held Henry in it’s loving grasp. A sequence of images flashed in his subconscious; a nightclub, a boat, his dog, an angry man urging him to leave, the sound of an engine, her face-
“wake up…”
“wake up, Henry!”
“wake up…”
“Henry , we’re late!”
“Alright! Alright! I’ll be just a couple of minutes.” Henry sat on his bed, his head tangled in a dreamy mess. Maybe he just needed some more time, he thought. It had been two years since he dumped her. He stood up, steadied himself, and went on to prepare for school. Henry Ghullie was an ordinary boy, average in all areas; grades, height, looks and strength, with a slightly better than ordinary imagination. His best friend, Peter Stone, usually called him “Ghullie Joe”, a name only he seemed to find funny, to his own surprise. Henry was twenty one now, halfway through a degree in physics and, in every sense of the word, a living ghost. He had a hellish part-time job at a coffee shop, and mountains upon mountains of homework. But he did try to have a life, sometimes. Henry took a few bites of a hasty toast, a sip of water, and hurried to his car where his brother and partner in crime, Johnny Ghullie, was waiting anxious. Johnny was not average. He had top grades, was taller, and had many more friends than Henry. Henry was 1 year the elder, but everyone thought he was the youngest. However, Johnny was a really good guy. He always lent a hand for Henry, and sometimes even a foot. The two had been best pals for as long as they could remember, and it also helped that they had been through some very though times together.
One time in particular Henry’s dad, Albert, had the magnificent idea of taking a trip with his colleagues to a nearby town. He left both Henry and Johnny in the house alone, promising to return shortly. Albert did seem to forget however, that the house had no food, power or water. The Ghullies were a though bunch, and from early on they were taught how to fend for themselves alone, but without nothing to fend themselves with, they were at the mercy of the elements. A day passed before they realized something was wrong, and began to feel scared. They decided to go and find Albert, and ran off in the direction he left. They ran for miles, crying as they went until they reached a town. And in the square, in a chair laughing, there sat Albert Ghullie. “How did you guys get here? I was just about to leave.” He looked surprised. “Why are you crying? What happened?” Henry took a deep breath.“Just take us back”.
After school, Henry took Johnny home and went to work, he lived very close to college. The daily route was so familiar it felt as if he were just a passenger in a train going in circles. Today was Friday, and that meant a friendly drinking session with his friends at The Red Gate. He only needed to endure four hours of bone-cracking, dull work.
__________________________________________________ ___________
Gather!
Ancient council of the damned.
Obscure pantheon of the most profane wisdom, haunting circle of hooded colossi. ‘tis time to beckon the forces most unknown to men, knowledge is our blade!
“Open the text. Let it shine darkly.”
“Let us begin. Empty the library.”
This ominous, macabre feeling of dread, a capite ad calcem as our dark book read.Enraged I peer through endless pages, these parchments scribbled with blood. With cause to ease this foreboding, with ideas my soul I cross.
“Empty you mind, drink this elixir.”
“The tree of life its leaves provides for us to live through burning cinder.”
Perhaps these wraiths are speaking sense. I must partake this herbal aid, so that my soul may once again embrace the furnace, the shrine of madness where I rest.
__________________________________________________ ____________
“Wake up…”
“Who are you?” Henry asked.
“You’re not reading it right.”
“W-what?” A house. A dog. A book. Six flaming letters burned his eyes. Henry woke up startled. It was nine past eight. He had had a rough night, perhaps he should stop drinking. He didn’t have much to do Saturdays apart from homework, so he decided to go for a walk to clear his head. On the way out he caught a glimpse of his father, tangled in paperwork in his office, as always. “Morning.” He mumbled.
“Hello, Henry.” Albert replied. He was a serious looking, silver haired man with a curved figure, perhaps due to excessive reading. He peered at Henry through his glasses for second, then glanced back down to his work and resumed muttering strange grown-up related things. “That will probably be me in a few years.” Thought Henry as he closed the door and trotted of. He lived in a small area on the outskirts of a city, somewhere around the north American continent. It was quiet there, but not enough to be a bore. Henry Ghullie hadn’t walked more than half a mile when a stone broke his concentration. This particular stone was odd, because it was moving, at a rather alarming speed, towards his head…
To be continued.
"This is a story about two characters struggling with their lives, each in different but significant ways. One is a common teenager who just wants to fit in somewhere, and the other is a tormented, almost supernatural being who tries to break free of a cycle of torment. The two stories (one narrated by the tortured being, the other told to us) begin with no relation, but slowly knot and form a nice and tidy tie. It is divided in three chapters."
The ghoul in the office by LKParadis.
Chapter 1: A boy and a ghost.
The hour is nigh!
The Elder speaks the signal of the closure.
My bones are fractured, the husk is dry!
A noxious demon’s mark is branded on my fingertip.
“A coin, if you will. To pay the ferryman”.
But gold’s worth nothing where I’m going.
A den of torture and madness where shadows frighten and strangle the hopes and dreams of man. A temple devoted to the most perverse insanity. Pillars heightened to nurture a Homeric gallery – of fiendish blood, a family.
Mechanic winds freeze down my spine. Here I sit, rippling through limbo on this bullion behemoth, corpses millennia old fueling his thunder driven wrath. The iron joints come to a halt.
Dear lord above! Foul ghouls below! Save me or slay me, if indeed the foreign realms thou roam!
The fiery pits of Hades are a charm. A poltergeist I’ll face a thousand times. Spare me this torment, O powers of the divine. Shroud me in flames, ye ogres of the night. I curse thee! Cursed be this night, as the night and nights before, for I am forsaken in this cavern – Plato’s own devilry.
Onwards I go, onwards to slaughter. A mocking symbol burns before me:
“SALVE!”
The Ostium has opened, it’s baleful powers are beckoning me.
__________________________________________________ _______
It was ten past eight . The alarm had already ceased it’s daily screeching, but sleep held Henry in it’s loving grasp. A sequence of images flashed in his subconscious; a nightclub, a boat, his dog, an angry man urging him to leave, the sound of an engine, her face-
“wake up…”
“wake up, Henry!”
“wake up…”
“Henry , we’re late!”
“Alright! Alright! I’ll be just a couple of minutes.” Henry sat on his bed, his head tangled in a dreamy mess. Maybe he just needed some more time, he thought. It had been two years since he dumped her. He stood up, steadied himself, and went on to prepare for school. Henry Ghullie was an ordinary boy, average in all areas; grades, height, looks and strength, with a slightly better than ordinary imagination. His best friend, Peter Stone, usually called him “Ghullie Joe”, a name only he seemed to find funny, to his own surprise. Henry was twenty one now, halfway through a degree in physics and, in every sense of the word, a living ghost. He had a hellish part-time job at a coffee shop, and mountains upon mountains of homework. But he did try to have a life, sometimes. Henry took a few bites of a hasty toast, a sip of water, and hurried to his car where his brother and partner in crime, Johnny Ghullie, was waiting anxious. Johnny was not average. He had top grades, was taller, and had many more friends than Henry. Henry was 1 year the elder, but everyone thought he was the youngest. However, Johnny was a really good guy. He always lent a hand for Henry, and sometimes even a foot. The two had been best pals for as long as they could remember, and it also helped that they had been through some very though times together.
One time in particular Henry’s dad, Albert, had the magnificent idea of taking a trip with his colleagues to a nearby town. He left both Henry and Johnny in the house alone, promising to return shortly. Albert did seem to forget however, that the house had no food, power or water. The Ghullies were a though bunch, and from early on they were taught how to fend for themselves alone, but without nothing to fend themselves with, they were at the mercy of the elements. A day passed before they realized something was wrong, and began to feel scared. They decided to go and find Albert, and ran off in the direction he left. They ran for miles, crying as they went until they reached a town. And in the square, in a chair laughing, there sat Albert Ghullie. “How did you guys get here? I was just about to leave.” He looked surprised. “Why are you crying? What happened?” Henry took a deep breath.“Just take us back”.
After school, Henry took Johnny home and went to work, he lived very close to college. The daily route was so familiar it felt as if he were just a passenger in a train going in circles. Today was Friday, and that meant a friendly drinking session with his friends at The Red Gate. He only needed to endure four hours of bone-cracking, dull work.
__________________________________________________ ___________
Gather!
Ancient council of the damned.
Obscure pantheon of the most profane wisdom, haunting circle of hooded colossi. ‘tis time to beckon the forces most unknown to men, knowledge is our blade!
“Open the text. Let it shine darkly.”
“Let us begin. Empty the library.”
This ominous, macabre feeling of dread, a capite ad calcem as our dark book read.Enraged I peer through endless pages, these parchments scribbled with blood. With cause to ease this foreboding, with ideas my soul I cross.
“Empty you mind, drink this elixir.”
“The tree of life its leaves provides for us to live through burning cinder.”
Perhaps these wraiths are speaking sense. I must partake this herbal aid, so that my soul may once again embrace the furnace, the shrine of madness where I rest.
__________________________________________________ ____________
“Wake up…”
“Who are you?” Henry asked.
“You’re not reading it right.”
“W-what?” A house. A dog. A book. Six flaming letters burned his eyes. Henry woke up startled. It was nine past eight. He had had a rough night, perhaps he should stop drinking. He didn’t have much to do Saturdays apart from homework, so he decided to go for a walk to clear his head. On the way out he caught a glimpse of his father, tangled in paperwork in his office, as always. “Morning.” He mumbled.
“Hello, Henry.” Albert replied. He was a serious looking, silver haired man with a curved figure, perhaps due to excessive reading. He peered at Henry through his glasses for second, then glanced back down to his work and resumed muttering strange grown-up related things. “That will probably be me in a few years.” Thought Henry as he closed the door and trotted of. He lived in a small area on the outskirts of a city, somewhere around the north American continent. It was quiet there, but not enough to be a bore. Henry Ghullie hadn’t walked more than half a mile when a stone broke his concentration. This particular stone was odd, because it was moving, at a rather alarming speed, towards his head…
To be continued.