Abandon All Dreams

Back in the time, when humanity were still young, there lived a woman. She was a fair woman, of beautiful raven hair that paled even the jet stones and endowed enough to make e‘ry lady green. Aye, wondrous was this wench and aye, she was a wee girl. She only knew herself, the forest who she called her home and her brothers, the beasts.

 Her life was full of dreadful haze… All she remembered of her past was being taken into this very field, a rough hand holding hers and a sweet whisper not unlike those of the wind. Then, she awakened and found herself hither.
The girl innocent was… She did not know no womanhood. No man ever shrouded her in his cape. Many people visited the once called Land of the Millesians just to see this maid. They called her the Leannan, for she were a dangerous sweetheart. Many her suitors were, they offered her golden circles and shiny rocks, and delightful tastes and delicious smells....

Malice her not, gentle her… For her spurning were not of disfavor but of ignorance. Have you tried to make thy horse to sit with thee in the table? Does he drink thy wine with a cup or make thee a painting? No, for he is a horse and that is beyond his grasp. Similar the Leannan was, innocent she was and never understood the idea of love…

The girl would simply away the men, for she never knew the language of man. In the rivers she would be, dancing… Her sweet figure mingling with the ripples and waves of the rivers, the birds singing songs of glory and nature and the fireflies lighting and moving with her… Such a spectacle to behold, the graceful phatom, that inspirited many artists…  

In blissful unawareness, she liveth… She knew did not know no malice, no disappointment, no desire… For her, life was a fantasy… One in which she never knew she would be awoken…

The Mother of the Sorrows



You may fall, once or twice

That is simply the way of life

Don’t you worry, you can still fight

You can change... I do believe

Don’t go back to her, listen to me

 

 Look at yourself

Look how you’re mistreated

How misunderstood

You always be mistaken

You’ll never be something good

Your chances are long gone…

All your efforts were just wrong…

It is pointless… There’s nothing left…

Of all hope now...You are bereft

You have fallen from the high

All you can do, is weep and cry

Something inside you, you feel it die

You were living such a lie…

 

When you are fainting…With a knife…

Stop and think… It’s your life…

Is it worth it?

No one is sure…

The flaws will be gone...

She assured

Lost and Found

Russell wasn’t going to last... his poverty was engulfing him. The stress wrecked his face; his bloodshot eyes looked at the pile of bills in his door. His fridge was empty, as well as his cupboard. He was starving… And no one could help him…

His reserves of coffee were gone. The nightmares persisted for four weeks, each becoming worse than the last. The thing pretending to be his mother would step closer in each nightmare, until she would be face to face with him. He saw the badly stitched flesh in her face, those merciless draconian eyes… That necrotic mouth... She always tried to talk, but he woke up before she did…

Russell wasn’t in his senses. He felt such an unnatural cold… Yet he was in summer… He could hear a howling dog, yet he was alone. Could he be going mad? Even he wasn’t sure… But he was sure of a thing…  He craved for something… His body was screaming for something…

He saved some for a special occasion… Hard habits take longer to die. He got a needle and crammed it until it started spilling on the floor. It was pointless effort…

The plunger was half the way when he noticed his bathroom mirror. When he saw what he was doing… He remembered…. He was such a failure, an idiot for thinking he could do better… But his mother was there… It didn’t matter the black dress… It didn’t matter the green streaks in her black hair… I was there for him…

His mother told him that she loved him… That she waited for him to return to her…  That she forgave him for running away… But Russell barely listened. Between her words, he heard a strange beeping noise… He heard a woman crying…He felt a rough hand holding his own and a man weeping... He felt sad, but his loving new mother comforted him... As I always did.

He felt a warm liquid running through his cheek.  But his choice was made… The flat beep would eventually be muted; his other mother assured him as they walked. “Everything is going to be alright” She said while crushing the lighter. Russell could feel scorching sand burning his feet… But, at the same time… He felt strong. He felt new… "Never go away from me... my son" He heard her say... As she caressed his scaly new skin.

Part III

Russell was fired from the shop after complains reached a critical level. The service was terrible; He would give inaccurate change or the wrong bags… He appeared listless and apathetic and his attention would be somewhere else…

He received a call from his parents… They were expecting him. There was so much dissonance… Their words were those of begging, they wanted their “baby” back; but the tone of voice only implied they were wishing to inflict pain… to punish him like in the old times… But he wasn’t going to give them the pleasure. He retreated to his hypothecated and neglected house… He only needed himself, so he cut any means of communication.  This was his fight… He was going to show them as he promised he would.

This was just like his classmates predicted it was going to be… But Russell wasn’t going to give them the pleasure of seeing him defeated. He tried again… His trusty lighter by his side, the cold pack and the belladonna teas calming his illness… He had all that, plus the understanding ears of the grey image that took over his bathroom mirror…

After a few days, nightmares accompanied Russell. He would envision himself in his youth, the failure he was… The failure he is. He was subjected to cruel mockery, to horrible beatings… He felt how his father’s rough hands were slowly taking the life from his body with every punch. But the most horrific thing was his mother… or what pretended to be her. An abomination wearing her flayed skin, pinned to its own skin with iron nails and crude stitching, barely covered by a tattered dress. The skin was too small for such big creature, and Russell could see black, bony scales between the gaps that the threads struggled to sew…

The thing wearing his mother’s skin was taunting him, looking at how pathetic he was… Through the cut holes for the eyes, there were black lizard-like eyes... Through the cut hole for the mouth, the creature tried to speak... It only revealed a necrotic mouth. No teeth, just rotten gums and a forked tongue.

Russell always woke up before that thing spoke. But that only ensured that the nightmare of the next night would last longer…

Part II

He started his new job as a shop clerk in the Federal District a couple of weeks after graduating. It wasn’t the job he dreamed… But it brought food to the table and paid the bills, his only two needs. The third need stopped being important some time ago… Whenever it tried to tempt Russell, he would stick a lighter’s flame into his arm in place of a needle. With time, his cravings subsided. Of course, psychology isn’t everything… But the teas and cold packs would help him for some time.

Russell was a bit of an overachiever. He sacrificed the whole Holy Week in order to go to work in his little shop… “Success knows no vacation” he would say… He wished to be successful, and nothing would prevent him from doing so.

On Maundy Thursday, Russell realized his error. Business was going as slow as a turtle… Boredom was his only company in his lonely counter… But he was slowly roused when he noticed his shop’s window. Someone tinted it… It was a gray shade.

At first, he didn’t mind it… But the creepy reflection it gave was unnerving at best. A gray featureless image would appear whenever Russell, and only Russell, looked at the glass. The glass itself would change too, adopting a murky and smoky shade. The reflection was eerie and mystifying at the same time… Russell would spend many hours looking at it, while old feelings came back…

Russell never went out without his lighter but, despite being just a reflection, the gray figure in the glass convinced him to not use it. It felt weird, that thing seemed so passive, so understanding… The young man would feel pain… anguish… for some reason, the figure would trigger those memories. He would stare at the glass with such concentration, that his manager actually had to shake him out of it.

It happened for some minutes… Then hours… Then days. Russell was always looking at the glass. He tried to convince people of the “magic” in the window but everyone saw a common clear window, nobody even noticed the shaded glass. Many would tell him to get glasses, others told him that it were shadows… And a few just asked “What are you on, kid?”

A few complains forced the manager to do a drug test on his clerk. Noting particular came out, save for Russell’s little defect… Upon finding out, he quickly turned into an object of mockery…

“He graduated?! How he did it? “

“Shouldn’t he be on special care or something?”

“He could hurt himself!”

The Stray Son

The early part of the XXI Century is quite hard… So many old rules, so many old taboos, so many injustices… No wonder why many hated the change.

This is the story of Russell Alvarez, a Mexican living in times in times of prejudice.

Russell was a strange man for his time. He had to be constantly reminded of instructions… Everyone was to speak to him slowly so he could understand. He was shy, very introverted and hated sports… And although he had good looks, he wasn’t interested in girls.

He was a strange man, many said… Was he even a man? No one knew for sure.

He made his way through the harsh world that was the 1980-2004 Mexico. The insults to his intelligence, to his ability to be a successful person and even to his family… He endured all that, but unlike other endurances we have seen so far, this one was based on perseverance. Russell had a problem, a problem of the addictive kind. He couldn’t let his family know he was into drugs, they would kill him! So he remained quiet and endured… He would remain clean for some days, before he succumbed to the temptation. If he did, he had to compensate…

He would pass entire days inside his room, sometimes straining himself studying for a minor test, sometimes working out until fainting from exhaustion, sometimes fleeing to his comfort zone. He preferred the drugs… They made him stronger… They comforted him… They were what his parents never were.

Through hard work, dedication and a lovingly abusive family, Russell graduated with honors. Even better, he managed to get his own house; far from the judging eyes of his family and friends. Now he was a successful, now his secret was safe… He could leave his horrible past behind…

But, what good lies in fighting against you? 

Addendum: ἰχώρ

I am not very sure as to why would the Cleric authorize this kind of motion. Perhaps horizontal transmission from spending time as a human has caused it to adopt this kind of behavior? I am not in ability to judge, but that is the least of my concerns.

My main apprehension is the fact that my qualms have not been taken into consideration. They do not seem to care about my tragedy at North Terrace, instead paying more attention to a pathetic family crisis that The Ankou can easily resolve. Nonetheless, I must stand silent... And comply with the elder's designs.

This mission... I do not know a way to express this "emotion" in a efficient and complete manner. It is of my preference to conduct my research on complete and absolute solitude. I am not a supporter of the Makers "competitive" attacks yet I am forced to participate in this degrading game of theirs. The consolation of seeing how a Watcher works is not satisfactory, not at all. I think this is what you call  "frustration"? 

On the bright side, I am deeply grateful for that catastrophe... I was not thinking clearly. Exposing myself in such reckless way... Now I am more than capable of resurfacing undetected. Stealth is vital in this kind of operations. The only liability... I am an individual, now.  My whole collective was affected by that disease... It will take a few months before I get a sizeable portion of vessels. But now, I can pick more carefully...

Now that I made my purpose clear... It is time to let my brother finish his schedule. He does not usually partake in stories... But this seems to be a special occasion.

Addendum: It is highly damnable the fact that I have to compete to earn my right to experiment... Now, I have to alter my designation. The blood of the gods... Downgraded to such retarded terminology... I shall have retribution, Nightwatch.... You better be detached from that kid... I will tear him to pieces, cell by cell, before giving him the punishment of a even more painful assimilation.