Weeshnaw
03-11-2013, 12:36 AM
I made this piece out of some terrible emotions I have accumulated. When I was done, it was short yet it conveyed what I feel. There is a message in there for all. What do you, strangers, think?
He who Saw Above the Evil
He didn’t know what came before. He didn’t know, but he remembered. The concepts may appear at first glance one and the same, but I will tell you that they are not. To know what something was is to have an understanding of it, to at least classify it and recognize it. To remember does not require the aforementioned features: you can remember something without understanding. As he did.
Some days, when not among friends but alone and by himself, he questioned why. Why, why did his world become this way? The others did not question, and were content. But he was not. He would sit in the field, with the tall grass swaying in front of him, the dragonflies buzzed around his head, interfering with his thoughts. He thought of swatting away the nuisances, but he felt sympathy with them. He was alone, truly, the only one who could see the world’s true colors.
Under all the peace and joy, there was something more, something sinister. The Soul of souls, the Heart of hearts, it beat among all, save he. He was saddened, as his ample friends and family were all drones of this Evil. He remembered seeing it, a great time ago, but the memory was firmly in the folds of his mind. It was what made him different, what protected him.
At night, in his dreams, he would see the Evil, trying to envelope him. Every night, a new battle, bitterly fought off. The Evil would send its entire strength at him, but he was the knight, armor shining at first but dulled as the battle wore on. Each day his strength would replenish, only to be wasted again at night.
He was the only one who could be expected to remember. After all, the others were far too young. He remembered his mother’s calm face. He remembered the fire. He remembered the blood, the darkness, the Evil. But why?
It was so long ago, he told himself, maybe I am crazy. These visions happen to nobody else, but why me? Maybe I should succumb, or negotiate a truth with the Evil. Except he never did succumb, and every day the stress drove him further, and further, and eventually over the cliff. He was so far gone, he was past the point of no return. Alone, he eventually was crushed under the weight of his world. Dead, in mind but not body, forever in a coma, never able to return to his friends and family was he. He was lamented over for a time, but soon forgotten. He who saw above the Evil was finally destroyed.
Who was he? That, my friend, is open to opinion. It could be me, or you, or the both of us, or anyone. It is a simple matter of decision.
He who Saw Above the Evil
He didn’t know what came before. He didn’t know, but he remembered. The concepts may appear at first glance one and the same, but I will tell you that they are not. To know what something was is to have an understanding of it, to at least classify it and recognize it. To remember does not require the aforementioned features: you can remember something without understanding. As he did.
Some days, when not among friends but alone and by himself, he questioned why. Why, why did his world become this way? The others did not question, and were content. But he was not. He would sit in the field, with the tall grass swaying in front of him, the dragonflies buzzed around his head, interfering with his thoughts. He thought of swatting away the nuisances, but he felt sympathy with them. He was alone, truly, the only one who could see the world’s true colors.
Under all the peace and joy, there was something more, something sinister. The Soul of souls, the Heart of hearts, it beat among all, save he. He was saddened, as his ample friends and family were all drones of this Evil. He remembered seeing it, a great time ago, but the memory was firmly in the folds of his mind. It was what made him different, what protected him.
At night, in his dreams, he would see the Evil, trying to envelope him. Every night, a new battle, bitterly fought off. The Evil would send its entire strength at him, but he was the knight, armor shining at first but dulled as the battle wore on. Each day his strength would replenish, only to be wasted again at night.
He was the only one who could be expected to remember. After all, the others were far too young. He remembered his mother’s calm face. He remembered the fire. He remembered the blood, the darkness, the Evil. But why?
It was so long ago, he told himself, maybe I am crazy. These visions happen to nobody else, but why me? Maybe I should succumb, or negotiate a truth with the Evil. Except he never did succumb, and every day the stress drove him further, and further, and eventually over the cliff. He was so far gone, he was past the point of no return. Alone, he eventually was crushed under the weight of his world. Dead, in mind but not body, forever in a coma, never able to return to his friends and family was he. He was lamented over for a time, but soon forgotten. He who saw above the Evil was finally destroyed.
Who was he? That, my friend, is open to opinion. It could be me, or you, or the both of us, or anyone. It is a simple matter of decision.