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Short story - It's kind of long.

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Short story - It's kind of long.

Post  ElderViking on Tue Jan 14, 2014 4:17 pm

Hey guys. I wrote this little short story here, I don't really have anywhere to put it or anything so I figured I'd just share it with you guys.

"Monologue: Hope for the Lonely One."

I would hunt. Feed. Death is abundant in the wild.
I have no family, no life, I am simply an embryonic beast unfed from the womb of a scientific mother, the last of my kind. Released into the greenery and lush and simple flatland that ensued for miles; I would wonder to myself why I was so alone and why I had no one to love and no one to be with, but news caught wind of my homes plight and I suddenly knew why I was so aloof in my travels. Why I had been on this everlasting search for one who could satisfy my hunger for the touch of another.
I was the last. No other was left.
This sweet music I had known as death was only years away from coming forth like the train that was flowing quickly down the tracks towards the tunnel, like cells of blood travelling from the veins of life to the heart, which was death, in the end we would all die independently, alone, with no other, no one died with another's, even if you're with another, you will die first, or they will die and you will lay with their soulless limp carcass; Awaiting your own mortal existence to extinguish like a short forest fire, your heat covers the ones you had touched in your life, I am simply a flame, for I have not affected anyone, I am lone, I am a singular spark that shortly lived upon the grey that engulfed me.
I wish to believe in one life I was a deity, hovering over countless souls, determining the life and death of others, because- So help me, god- I wish I could have control over myself. Some unrealistic instinct in my mind tells me that there are others like me, and to keep searching.
I should.
Months. Months pass by as I wait for my underlying disease of loneliness to spread into malignant insanity, that all this time in the darkness and loneliness my mind may trick me into believing I am for once.. For once happy. I know this will not happen before my timely demise, this world is cruel, this world would want you to live every moment, every thought stone sober in the process of slowly tearing the layers of skin off of your body, only to show the weak, miniature, greedy animal that you are. But no. I force myself. I force my brain into a comatose of angry depression and insanity, my pleas for happiness or death are not answered in this livid visceral moment that I had, I digress, I failed to drive myself off of the edge of sanity. But in my anger and distress, another formed in the horizon; A similar, distressed, one. She and I, we bond. We bond to the point that we cannot be without one another.
This does not last long.
I give her my trust and my love, my heart and my brain, my thought and it's process, but she does not do the same; Although I know she has no one else to run to I fear there is another she knows of, that she would secretly rendezvous with, this sneaking suspicion that she would want to stab me in the back, and break my spine, leave me paralysed, in fear and loathing. In the end she does. She leaves me ridden sprawled on the ground with only one option, to move.
I feel as if I can't. Moving is not an option. I must, I must force myself to become a powerhouse of emotion, to drag the euphoric response of a come back that hasn't happened yet. To become a perpetual machine of motion that would move me forward into my now once again lonely existence, that for some reason now that I know there is one, I may find another.
Hope is evident in my now diminishing time. I hope I may find another life to touch, because my spark has hit one tree, and it has burned it down just as that one had burned my heart to a crisp, I burnt it down. I touched another life, after years of searching, the touch of another engulfed me and I was near death because I had become infatuated with it, now I understand what life is about. I started the fire, and it will not stop burning until- Like every fire- Becomes extinguished.

The door cracks open.. But there's no sun shinin' through, No, there's no sun shinin' through..

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Re: Short story - It's kind of long.

Post  Zaughi on Tue Jan 14, 2014 4:32 pm

It's really good to know that there are people out there who actually can do creative writing nowadays, what with teenage vampire romance novels flooding the market. Once again, this is incredibly well-done.

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