Death : Entire Chapter One : - Writers Forum

Wisp · 04-07-2006, 01:00 AM

Author's Note:

This is the entire chapter one + the introduction. It is a total of 5,072 words.

Author's Note:

Changes: This has been revised, and parts have been added (mostly at the end) to lengthen it, and to give more information.

Disclaimer:

I DO NOT expect a full out critique for this piece. However, if you do read it, feedback is always nice

Introduction: Life and Death

Existence

Stripping us of hope,
Life is death, a lie- purpose
What is it really?

There is no way to know what our purpose is. Life itself has no real ability, except to exist. Time frequently comes to pass when a new thought emerges about the ideas of existence. These thoughts make a mold that we believe is our match, but in our hearts, we know that we don’t fit. Some assume that the goal in life is to live to the fullest extent, but others believe life as the opportunity to be serving the dead. We all try to uncover the truth, only to realize that the maxim is never going to be there; it is always just out of reach. So why do we continue to search? We prolong our search because we are all corrupt, twisted in a sense of curiosity that we must know what is happening, we must know the terrible plot that we have been lain out to serve.

The most beloved definition of death is when you die. Nobody knows what it is, or who the dead are. We may be sitting here right now, playing their flute, sinking deeper into their plan. Some souls dig further than this, and believe that death is when you ride the clouds to heaven, or cling in the pits of hell. Others inquire if death exists, and sing their own requiems aloud.

A requiem is defined simply as a song composed for or about the deceased. It is formed by a composer of bereaved thoughts, who writes for the sole purpose of recognition to the dead.

In a sense, life is a requiem. It is a ceaseless attempt to free ourselves from our bonds, to thank our ancestors… to join our fellow siblings in the welcome embrace that is aptly named: death. As we course the song of life and death through our lips, everyone is oblivious. They reflect back upon their past- the flash of reoccurrence, then they are gone, shattered helplessly into an unknown oblivion.

When you die, it is believed that you reflect upon the past: the life that was once lived. As the knife of death is ripping out the heart in your body, are you really going to think about the past? Or are you just going to fall away, screaming with a pain that is so inhumanly dreadful, that you can think of nothing else but the vivid picture of Death’s mutated skull.

Yet with all the facts that are prearranged for us, we still cannot comprehend why we are here. So what is our purpose, and what twists does life bring? As the Romans say, vita non est vivere sed valere vita est: life is more than merely staying alive.

* * *

Chapter I: The Requiem Begins

A full moon sat steady above the forest, its glossy stare of golden light illuminated between the leafy branches. All the stars were consumed by the darkness: their normal, lustful glow now a heavy shroud of black; only to be broken by the lunar rays. Pale, desiring jade fields withered against the constant gusts of wind, but never fell to their tyrant completely. Foreboding blackbirds stalked the airs: singing to their self as they investigated the smallest scent, searching for the feast they would never find.

Deep within the forest, a modest campfire crackled and flickered against the wind. Its warmth spread around in a small radius, and enveloped its creators with a tingling feeling. Three people surrounded the ember, staring into its lonesome glow, and shivering in the frigid clearing. They were in the middle of a conversation, their voices parched from lack of water.

“Allen, you know we haven’t had water for days, and we need to start searching for food, even if these forests are uncharted, and very deadly.” A brown haired female announced, her voice almost sympathetic, trying to ward off Allen’s frustration.

“I know… I know you’re right. It’s just… there has to be a way.” His voice fell as he spoke: he knew it was impossible. He looked towards Cera, and into her beautiful cobalt eyes. Shifting his gaze, Allen looked over towards his other companion, a brawny, red haired man, who was usually intelligent and understanding.

“What do you think, Byren?” Allen said, watching as Byren tried to stutter out a word. He failed to, and began to twitch, his jaw opening, and shutting at strange intervals, and his eyes jumped back into his head. His body gave in, and he fell backwards onto the soil.

“Byren?” Cera ran over to him, wrapping his head in her arms. “Byren, are you okay?” Her voice released her secret worry as she turned to watch Allen. Calmly walking past Cera, Allen reached the other side of Byren, and knelt down in the frozen soil, its chill seeping through his leggings. Allen reached across to Byren’s neck, and pressed in with two fingers.

“Cera, he’s fine. Just passed out… that’s all. Probably from the lack of food and water. Let’s get him closer to the fire, and maybe we can all get some much needed rest.” Allen moved around to Byren’s legs, and lifted him over to the fire with Cera’s help. They took one last look at him, and lay down beside the warmth of the flame themselves.

* * *

It was still dark. The moon kept its place high in the air; the snow was falling majestically from the treetops. Allen awoke as the powder touched his face, the chilling numbness striking his head with every flake of snow. He sat up, first looking over at Cera; who was covered by a white blanket, which was just beginning to freeze around the edges. The fire was out, it was now a pile of ash and snow, a symbol to black and white, ying and yang. Allen slanted his eyes over to Byren. He was twitching again. Only this time, it was more violent. His body shook as if an earthquake was slamming his body left and right. His legs were separate entities; they were twisting out of control, in ways that would easily snap a bone in half.

As Allen rushed over to Byren, his breath visible in the boreal, he watched as the twitching slowly came to a halt. He quickly brushed the snow off his neck and cheeks, and then gazed into Byren’s eyes. They were an odd, pitch black, as if nothing was there at all. Allen was starting to become afraid, and he went back to Byren’s neck, and began to feel his pulse. As his fingers were held down against the neck, Allen glanced back at the eerie, entrancing eyes. Only, the eyes weren’t black anymore. They were full of an unknown fire.

Byren lurched vigorously towards Allen, his hands outstretched, craving Allen’s neck. Frantically falling back into the snow, Allen gawked at the wildly throbbing entity. He glanced at his hand, and back towards Byren. One thought kept repeating itself throughout his head, echoing.

He has no pulse… what in hell is going on here?

Squinting back at Byren, Allen watched as he slowly stopped twitching. Byren suddenly sat up, his eyes flashing a deadly crimson, pounding into Allen with a demonic menace. Allen met the glance, and sat there in the snow, paralyzed and confused.

Byren moved his body erect, followed by Allen’s relentless stare. He headed toward Allen, his bloody eyes darting through the snow as he lifted his hand to reveal an array of sharp claws. Allen pushed back with his arms, fear taking over instinct, driving him as he kicked the snow to scoot backwards, desperately searching for shelter. Byren leaped at him, and aimed his slash at the center of Allen’s chest with his serpentine claws. The claws sliced right through his flesh, and Allen fell into the snow, dyeing it a deep crimson with his blood. His stare no longer saw the demon that had slain him, but looked endlessly into the night sky, dreaming of the tears that could be shed. But the only answer to him was the sound of ripping flesh and breaking bones, which rang throughout the skies.

The scent of blood filled the air, and the blackbirds caught on. They circled around the skies for a moment, chirping the gloomy requiems they loved to sing. Eventually, they decided that the time was ripe, and the plummeted down to the forest clearing, with want for blood in their beady, black eyes.

Wisp · 04-07-2006, 01:01 AM

Dawn’s lovely hands brought the sun leisurely over the tree line, and launched its shining light against the snow. It reflected off the fallen powder, and bounced onto the tall, oaken guardians, creating a beautiful green spectrum of light. Cera awoke, cold and shivering in her woolen blanket, the icy snow still shrouding her like a cloak. She sat up, letting the cold snow crunch beneath her as she transferred her weight. Beginning to look around, she saw that Byren was already up, and Allen was gone. The fire had been doused overnight, its previous beaming flame, now piled over with a clump of snow. She began to stroll over towards Byren, sighting his scarlet hair and muscular form. She reached him, and sleepily placed an arm on his shoulder for support.

“Byren, are you alright?” Her voice was calm and soft, like a delicate ocean breeze. Byren turned his head, showing her his lucid, green eyes and letting a cunning smile appear on his face. “Yeah Cera, I’m okay. Harsh night, that’s all."

“I guess that’s what would be expected if you’re twitching that badly. Do you know where Allen went off to?” She took her hand off Byren’s shoulder, and replaced it by her side, as she began to walk over by a near-by pine.

“No, sorry Cera- he was gone before I got up.” Coming to a standing position, Byren looked Cera in the eyes. “He told me last night that he had something important to do in the morning.”

He continued to watch Cera, as she walked back around to the ashes, her beautiful brown locks falling down against her figure. Cera turned around warily, seeing through Byren’s facade. “I don’t understand. Allen would never do something like that.” Her voice began to sound confused and slightly perturbed, as she watched Byren closely; looking for the odd hint that he was lying. “He is so sensible, and yet he went off in the wilderness by himself?”

“Again Cera, I’m sorry,” Keeping his cool, Byren strolled over to Cera, and picked up her blanket and small pack of provisions. He took them into his hands easily, as he slipped out another calumniation. “I am just telling you what he told me.”

Cera looked Byren deep into his emerald eyes. She could sense it. Something wasn’t right, like the single piece missing from a puzzle. Already knowing the answer, she asked her question anyway. “Is he going to meet us back here then?”

Byren responded, a solemn expression upon his face. “No, he told me that we would meet up when we got to town.” He took his view away from her alluring, sapphire eyes, and looked off to the tree-line. “We should get going. If we don’t leave soon, we may not make it out of this forest before nightfall.”

“Yes… we should leave.” Cera muttered, as she lowered her gaze. She reluctantly followed Byren as he stepped into the ashes, breaking apart the ying and yang. They headed into the grove of lush, green pines: walking unknowing into future’s blind lap.

* * *

It was freezing. Allen’s torn body lay against a blank white milieu, his dark black hair upon the ground: a pale comparison to his colorless surroundings. His silver eyes were distraught, changing their views around the white wilderness. Paralyzed and confused, he lay unmoving in the chilled environs.

Colossal buildings lay far-off in the cold emptiness; they seemed to lurk with an ample presence of mystery. To Allen, they seemed important; as if he had seen the buildings before, but he shrugged the thought off and began to question his surroundings.

Where am I, what is going on? He kept thinking, but no answer was ever returned to his queries. He found himself smiling to himself, as he laughed inside at the inevitability of his situation.

It’s over…it’s all over.

His thoughts crammed his head, and Allen found himself unable to think. His mind was twisted and warped and all he could see were images of his past life. Traveling from the shattered city of Ayaru in search of a safe haven from the destruction, Cera’s laughing personality as they ran together through the fields, Byren’s everlasting friendship as he stayed with him throughout his short life. He looked up towards what would be the sky, and remembered the night in the forest.

Byren’s actions began to come back into his mind in mute, as Allen watched himself get slaughtered in slow motion. Bile filled his mouth, he wanted to turn his head and discharge the sickening taste, but it lay like an adhesive stuck to his tongue. Visions of the claws slicing his flesh wide open, his blood ensanguined like waste upon the snow. Byren’s crimson eyes slowly eating away at his soul, as he struggled to keep a steady gaze. Attempting to keep the thoughts away, Allen pictured Cera’s captivating face.

The intense cold began to fade into warmth and with it the state of absent color. White turned to a pale yellow as two more bodies floated down beside Allen, silently falling against the floor. He looked at the people- their eyes slowly making contact with the fringes of his, a brief vision of communication. They were young, too; no older than he had been.
Who were they?

Allen examined the bodies the best he could; they were beaten and thrashed upon, one even had a wide gash in the side of his neck. Looking away from them, he felt the blood rush back through his arteries and veins; refreshing his body with life.

The surroundings were changing again. Dizziness started a steady lapse over Allen’s head, as he watched the yellow change into an alteration into a swirl of color. The background began to ripple, like a stone throw in a pond, and the colors slowly began to twist off, forming abstract, separate shapes. Abstract changed to concrete, as a landscape began to spin around his stationary body. The rotating stopped suddenly, and Allen looked around, bewildered and astonished.

He was clumsily sprawled out over a feather-padded bed. A beige tent was enclosed around him, and hard-packed soil beneath. He moved his fingers, and felt the brown leather chaps and white cotton shirt that had been placed upon him. Light fluttered inside the tent from an open flap in the canvas. As Allen tried to get up, he noticed his wound had been completely healed. He could lift his body up easily, and quickly began to stand. Cautiously at first, Allen headed towards the open tent-flap, but soon learned that walking was still an effortless task. He steadily made it to the doorway of the tent, and took a large step outside.

Staring appalled, Allen watched as an array of soldiers patrolled a massive grouping of tents. The soldiers wore a strange metal tunic, and at their waist were dark scabbards for their swords. They wore thick leather chaps as leggings, and had a sturdy blue shield hung across their backs. Allen observed a man unlike the guards moving towards him, but stood blankly in awe, dumbfounded by the scene. The sentry greeted him with a grin on his face, and spoke in a cheery voice.

“I am glad to see you have healed completely, we will have to start your training regimen soon enough. Why don’t you follow me- I bet you’re starving to death.” He winked as he set off at a slow stroll down the road. The sentry stopped, and turned around suddenly remembering something:

“Oh, I almost forgot. Welcome to Fayll, the city of the second chance.”

* * *

Cera sat alone on a tree stump outside of the forest, looking up at the beautiful moon. Her hair was disheveled; her eyes wavered, dropping tears like rain upon the ground. She averted her gaze from the sky, and down to the sea of grass below, to Byren’s sleeping form. He’s hiding something… I am sure of it. But what could be his secret?

Wind played against the plains, shaping the grass at its will. The stars winked at her from above.

We have been friends for so long; he should know not to keep anything from me, especially if it is about Allen.

Cera shook her head in silence; more tears fleeing from her cheeks. She shivered as the breeze hit her, and moved a blanket from her neck into a tight embrace around her body.

Clouds shifted in front of the moon, slightly dimming the open field. Cera looked back down towards Byren, or at least where she thought he was. She gazed around their fire, but couldn’t see a single soul.

Where is he?

Cera slowly sat up from the tree trunk, and walked down the hillside towards the fire. She heard a rustling behind her, and quickly spun around. “Byren? Is that you?”

There was no response.

She returned her view in front of her, and continued her cautious walk back to the fire. The grass emitted a soft whisper, Cera quickened her pace. “Byren, where are you? Are you here?” Cera said frantically, each word pronounced faster than the last.

There was no response.

Cera reached the fire, and put her hands above its flame, the warmth taking the fear away from her body. She looked around; her normally calm, blue eyes now were corybantic, swiftly tilting from left to right. The blades of dim, winter grass murmured again, and Cera began to circle the fire. “Who’s there?”

The noise stopped. The wind calmly threw itself at the silent brawl as Cera stood still, glaring into the pale landscape. She watched as the ground began to give way, and creatures began to burrow upwards. Cera clutched her chest, her heart pounding against her soft palm as she watched, terrified by the skeletal forms that emerged from the earth. The creatures were definitely dead; their skeletal forms a blur of crimson and white. Dried blood clung to their bones like parasitic leeches to skin; cracks ran down their bodies, and some even had indents in their skulls. Their eyes were set deep into their heads, a pale glow of yellow imitating the life that once was there. However, they weren’t entirely skeletal. Most of them had decaying flesh rotting upon their legs or arms, just a thin enough layer to add an aura of humanism to their appearance.

Wisp · 04-07-2006, 01:03 AM

Utterly terrified, Cera looked from each undead grin to the next, slowly making her way around the encirclement that had her trapped. Her eyes suddenly came to a halt, as she noticed a likeness of Byren standing among them. Only it wasn’t Byren. She was looking at a demonic black form, with smooth skin that blended into the night. He was muscular, and had eyes that screamed like souls tortured in the pits of hell, and a silent grin that told stories of inhuman horror.

The creatures slowly tightened the circle, until they were less than a hands stretch away. Cera felt cramped. Fear raced down her legs, and the cold encumbered her soul. Byren stepped forward, his fiery eyes piercing a hole through hers, as she shivered with fear. He swept a hand over the fire, and the embers were replaced with the chill of darkness. The only glow left was the soft tint of the coward moon, which hid behind the clouds, and the demonic lights from the undead eyes.

An outline of Byren’s form approached her, and she heard the lonesome screech of Byren scraping his claws against each other. The decayed flesh and bone creatures groaned, and their eyes showed their want for blood. Cera began to panic, her eyes vivid as she focused in on Byren.

Byren let out a wicked howl, and thrust an arm back, positioning it to strike. Cera screamed, and then softly muttered. “Byren… what…. what are you?”

An unhallowed grin lit up his face which was easily visible throughout the darkness. His evil presence began to fill the air, as Byren threw a superhuman thrust with his claw at Cera. Cera closed her eyes… waiting.

The sound of steel on steel echoed through the forest, and Cera looked at her chest, and then in awe at what stood before her. There was a knight, and surrounding him was a golden aura that lit up the field in a bright show of light. The undead creatures cringed at it, and took several steps back. The man had a deep, sapphire-colored shield set across his rigid back. His eyes hid behind reflecting glasses, and every now and then he re-adjusted them, casually looking at his surroundings. Platinum, white hair fell at his neck, and a powerful chained tunic covered his body. The man held a silver sword that had its own humoresque, which he held in a stern, defensive grasp. Cera looked around the man’s strong back, and into Byren’s fiery eyes; they weren’t afraid like the skeletal undead, they seemed to be happy, as if he enjoyed the challenge of fighting the saint that stood before. Turning his head to face Cera’s tilted, resplendent eyes, the man said as he looked deeply into them, “It’s going to be okay now, Cera.”

With one arm, the man took hold of Cera’s shoulder, and softly pushed her farther in back of him. He then put himself into a strong, readied stance, watching Byren, who was cocking his head. Byren waved his hand at the undead creatures, and they disappeared in crisp, towers of smoke. Silence fell overhead, and the moon slowly crept from the safety behind the cloud. More stars seemed to light up the sky, an audience to the two figures: the man with the bright sword, and his demonic adversary.

“Who are you, and what is your purpose here?” A clean voice resounded from the man, inquiring.

“Simon… Simon. It’s me, Farius.” He released a slight grin, as Simon started to recognize him. “I am Minor Lord to the Undead Council and strong servant to the Great Lord Veranus.” Byren’s response was confident, as he began to stroll calmly towards the saint. A breeze whisked by, swiftly flourishing through Simon’s hair. Simon stared blankly at his oppugnant, questioning his appearance.

“Ah, Farius...” Simon averted his gaze from the demon, and up towards the sky, the history of horrors that the name carried went flooding into his head. “You still haven’t told me your purpose for being involved here.” Simon finished, in a monotone voice.

His grin widening, Farius answered, suddenly more involved with talking. “The Undead Council has sent me and a few others to this continent to attack it as an act of War. As of now, the Barisal Treaty is now broken, and is in utter void. I suggest you start assembling your armies Simon, this War is going to be a much worse than the last.” Simon frowned, and then returned to his normal, austere expression.

“Do you think War is a game Farius?” Almost laughing at the question, Farius answered, slowly at first.

“Oh no, not at all- War is much more than a game.” He looked over towards Simon, collecting every last expression from his face. “I tend to think of it as the battle between life and death; although we are already dead.” Simon faltered for a moment as if to argue, but ignored the inquiry as Farius began to walk towards him. Switching his gaze from the demon to Cera, he spoke calmly, yet forcefully.

“It has gotten too dangerous for you to stay here, Cera. Leave now, or you will be sure to die.” Cera fleetly turned to face him, her auburn hair a blur of frantic motion. Her expression showed an inner fear, yet as her heart beat faster with every second, she knew she wanted to stay. Cera started to stutter out a few words, but Simon held out his right hand, and her lips magically closed. At first she gasped, but then nodded silently, slowly agreeing to the man’s judgment, and walked away.

* * *

After a few minutes, Cera turned around. She saw hulking silver flames erupt from the ground, in a circle around the men. Clods of earth flew through the air, forcing Cera fell to the grass, her hands on her head, and her heart pounding as she instinctively attempted to view the battle that was lain out before her.

* * *

Simon was short of breath; his armor was scorched, his sword flashing dimly at his side. He watched the conflagrant, silver grass, and looked through the smoky mist. The explosion of silver fire had caused his long, white hair to be brushed out of his eyes, as he hurriedly searched for Farius.

The sound of grass swaying behind him alerted Simon, and he flicked his body around just in time to block Farius’s slash. Farius broke away, and dove at Simon with both claws pulsing a garnet hue. Faltering, Simon slowly dodged to the side, his tunic taking part of the blow of Farius’s claws. Simon grunted as they sliced through the mail, but held his sword high, ready for the next assault.

After a quick recovery, Farius pushed his demonic legs, sprinting towards Simon with his claws outstretched. He slashed hard, bringing both down upon the sword, causing Simon to almost release his grasp. Farius easily took one claw off the parrying blade, and tried a thrust for Simon’s stomach, only to be met by the man’s transformed stone hand. He winced at the contact, his nerves yelling at him to pull away from Simon, and he complied: quickly running in the other direction.

As Farius tried to reverse to come around for another attack, his speed carried him to a slide in the dust. Farius regained his position, and lurched his weight forward to continue his assault. He threw a claw forward, but it was quickly parried by Simon. Farius twisted away from the sword, and thrust his second arm into the saint’s side. Simon yelled in pain as the claws plunged into his flesh, but he recovered by a speedy thrust of an elbow into Farius’s face.

Farius fell back, but picked up the pace of the brawl, lunging toward Simon with a new level of speed. Simon ducked his swipe, wincing as he tucked his body into a clumsy roll.

Thrusting his hand into the ashy soil, Simon began chanting, as Farius began another attack. Gaseous argentite figures started to surround Simon, as Farius grimly realized what he was about to run into. He tried to back away, but he had already gained too much momentum. Simon smiled, and then lifted his hand from the soil, releasing an extreme burst of energy just as Farius rushed by. The light struck his entire body, igniting his skin with an intense, unnatural flame, and the sound of his scream echoed from the arena.

Simon surged forward with his remaining energy, slashing into the stomach of Farius as the light began to dissipate. Farius bent over, and fell to the ground in immense pain. Simon stabbed into his flesh again, addicted to the easy plunge of sword in skin. Farius yelled in agony, and dug his claws into the soil to release some of the tension. Again, Simon jabbed into Farius, and he continued relentlessly, each strike of the glowing sword shooting convulsions through Farius’s body.

Meeting his blank stare, Simon finally ended the torture. He bent down, and calmly closed Farius’s eyes then turned, and walked away.

* * *

Farius shook violently for a moment, then sat up, erect. He saw Simon’s figure fall through the smoke, and lifted his body up. A fierce, red glow radiated from his claws, as Farius limped in for the kill.

* * *

Cera looked hopefully into the smoky dome, and smiled as she saw Simon’s shining sword pierce the caliginosity. She watched as he blindly walked past her, a solemn expression on his face as he gloomily held his sword low by his side. She wanted to speak to him, but lay afraid, hidden in the long blades of the grass.

* * *

Breaking through the obscurity, Farius finally had Simon in his sight. He lifted his arm perpendicular to his body, and aimed for the man’s back. His claw gave a final pulse of crimson, as he focused all his energy into his arm. Farius snarled as the pain from his wounds began to overwhelm him, but he ignored it, and concentrated on his arm. His arm began to shake, and his muscles twitched as he struggled to stay steady. Red light shot out from his claw, lighting the darkness for a single moment.

* * *

Simon turned around, as his eyes caught a tint of red light behind him. He looked towards it, to see the struggling form of Farius, extending a glowing arm at him. His eyes went blank, and he waited for the pain to come.

* * *

Averting her gaze from Simon, Cera rolled over to see what the light was. To her horror, she saw Farius standing in a limp, and watched as something was launched across the field.

* * *

Farius relinquished his energy, and the claw shot out like a glowing red bullet from his arm. He collapsed to the ground in a fit of pain, losing his vision as blood trickled from his eyes.

* * *

The claw flew through the air, propelled by an alien force, and perfectly pierced right through Simon’s heart. As he collapsed to the ground, Simon softly muttered a curse towards the moon. He watched as the darkness was slowly replaced by a white milieu, the horror of his past-life rushing like a blackbird, plummeting for food.

* * *

Author's Note:

I know it's long, but it is a whole chapter.