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kbsmith
September 26th, 2015, 09:42 PM
Let me be the one to burn your corpse when you’re dead. I will keep the ashes in a silver urn upon the mantle above the fireplace. At Christmas, your remains will accompany the tree, withering in the warmth of hearth fire and nutmeg. Seasons will pass like seconds, seconds like an eternity, immortalized in your silver urn: where neither time nor wind will disturb your ashes.

We will laugh without you, cry beside you, and, together, sing songs you cannot hear. Everyone will gather to discuss the marriage of nature and technology, when we are immortalized with improvements of the bodily kind. We will no longer age, no longer grow old in the fields, eternal youth. Conscious machines will build our future on green energy and an endless life expectancy, and you, my love, will be there for it all, in your dusty silver coffin cage.

So, let me be the one to burn your corpse when you are dead. Preserved just as you are, we will keep you until we can revive you. From ashes, take you to the birthing pools and rebuild you in the glory of your former self, the way you are now. Your amber hair, like silk, preserved to shine forever. Your skin like soft wax so smooth and milky white, never to crease or weather. Eyes of bright blue starlight will never fade, preserved in the remains: your DNA.

When you think of things you’ll miss, know they are not all worth seeing. Imagine: the wars that will come before, the sickness and the plagues that will befall us. Think of the heartbreak: to endure the decay of your mother and father as they age well beyond their ability to live. All these tribulations can be avoided, if you let me kill you where you stand.

Dry your tears, my love. This is the way that things must be. I will bear those future burdens with my own will and strength. And when the morning comes again, one great day when you are made whole, it is I who will cry for you. Not in sadness, mind you, in joy, to see you again after a lifetime of loneliness. Released from your silver urn, you will pour out all the secrets that death holds, describe to our eternal youth the ancient turmoil of mortality long gone.

On that day, I will grant your any wish. We will laugh together, sing songs of days long past, and cry beside the empty silver urn. But, today, let it be postponed, as I wrench the life from your neck.

-xXx-
September 29th, 2015, 10:12 PM
hmmm.
no comments.
hmmm.
:)

20oz
October 6th, 2015, 05:02 PM
Well, well, I finally got to read a stream of consciousness. It's been years since I read one.

I definitely felt the heebie-jeebies creeping in as I read more and more. At the same time, I was a bit enchanted at his delusion.

There were two sentences that were hiccups in my eyes. You can choose to do something about it or not:


We will no longer age, no longer grow old in the fields, eternal youth.


And when the morning comes again, one great day when you are made whole, it is I who will cry for you.

Overall, you did a good job.

newwriter1
October 8th, 2015, 02:38 AM
I don't feel qualified to critique this. It seems too advanced for me.

From the beginning the opening line including these three words: "burn your corpse" quickly struck me with its anger; but soon after I became confused because the narrator suggested the enjoyment of knowing and loving them. It is obvious to me it is your intent to write about the conflicted feeling you have for this other... But why, why do you have these feelings for them.

I will have to reread it to look for the indication that it is not your child, but maybe your partner. Maybe its your pet rottweiler that keeps chewing up your expensive leather shoes. Maybe it doesn't matter. Joking aside, I think you write well.

kbsmith
October 8th, 2015, 11:23 AM
"Aw man I'm not advanced, I'm a nutcase"
Says the man to the urn.

I just want to preserve you the way you are! I want you to be this way forever! Like Dorian Gray, wrapped in divine youth. But, at what price? That I should only endure the pain of life without you for so many years before your return.

The way I see it, the guy is in love with this girl, so much so that he wants their love to be exactly this way forever. So, he kills the girl to solidify her place in time, then carries her ashes with him for a hundred years: through artificial limb enhancements, wars, famine, cyberintelligence and mind enhancement, to finally regeneration and even full on revival.
That's when he wakes her up, when he restores her to that original form on the day of her death.

And, why did he do all this? Because it made that first look between them after a hundred years, something that could not have existed in anyone else. when he finally was able to meet her, with all the wisdom and power of the future, he could see the innocence of that moment so deep in his past. But, with revival and this knowledge of her comes the grave realization: she is not the legend he had convinced himself of. The moment he killed her and swore himself to reviving her, he idolized her, crystallizing she: as his god.

"But, yeah. I'm rambling. I'm talking in circles. I'm babbling dada"

newwriter1
October 8th, 2015, 11:55 AM
Thanks, you sure paint a beautiful dream, right up to the point of acknowledging to himself that it ultimately would be a flawed one. I like that.

The future may hold a certain wisdom, but its the associated costs in getting there that can really screw it all up.

ange

Jake-Sully
October 9th, 2015, 05:38 PM
Nice. Now this is intriguing and nice flow. Emotionally charged and tense, and great hook. Keep on writing! I was taught to not point out spelling mistakes, but this one's important. You used weather (never to crease or weather) and I think you meant to say wither. This mistake, I only point out, because it robs you of a fraction of emotion and intensity. Otherwise, I loved it.

kbsmith
October 10th, 2015, 06:28 PM
Thanks JakeSully, I appreciate the response. Howver, I must remind you that weather is not only used when discussing rain, snow, sleet, or heat. Weather is also used to describe the naturally aging of metal or more importantly, as in this case, the aging of leather. Wither would be a good term to use, as well, but I feel it is too flower-like and cliché.

Again, thanks for your feedback!