Swolligator
Butcher of the Sands
- 1,955
- Posts
- 15
- Years
- Age 33
- Syndicate HQ
- Seen Jan 30, 2017
PLEASE READ: Just a heads up and warning, this novel is Rated 16 years and above due to its reference to anti-religious views, drugs, swearing, alcohol, adult themes and masochism.
I have decided to begin writing because it poses way for me to release my emotions and my creativity. I also hope that the novel I am currently writing will one day be published. Any and all feed back is welcome. Depending on the responses given, I will decide to continue posting more here or not. I am eager for your comments.
I have decided to begin writing because it poses way for me to release my emotions and my creativity. I also hope that the novel I am currently writing will one day be published. Any and all feed back is welcome. Depending on the responses given, I will decide to continue posting more here or not. I am eager for your comments.
The Demon Chronicles - Part One: Iago
I have come to suspect that in this s*** filled world, there is nothing that is "God". No, that came out wrong, I'll rephrase that, there is no such things as "God". No, Yahweh, no Allah, no Kami and no Zeus. But don't let my anti-religious views stop you from reading on; this was just my own personal view on life. I really don't mean you any harm, I swear. Whether you believe in a "God" or not is entirely up to you; just please hear me out; you won't regret it. This is of course my story you are reading, these things happened, more importantly they happened to me – how unfortunate. But don't feel any sympathy at all towards me; I don't deserve it. Learn from my mistakes; I chose this path and it inevitably led me here, where I now lie, my body frozen in the rigid, paralytic grips of death. I feel the blood around me rapidly cooling in the midwinter night's air as my consciousness chronicles my moments here on this earth, my fall from innocence, my fall from deitification.
I was born like any other person out there, in a hospital with doctors and nurses all crowding around, anticipating my arrival. My mother lay on the bed, giving me something I did not deserve – life. My father stood beside her, giving her all the moral support he could think of at that time, but something tells me he was thinking about something else. They were new parents, in their early twenties; I would be their first child… and their last. My father was a corporate executive in some big corporation situated in our home city of Calydon; my mother on the other hand was a secondary school teacher at Calydon High School where she taught Chemistry. It was this high school that they met; they had been high school sweethearts in their day, lived together through university and after becoming successful, they brought me into this world.
So there I was; a newly born carcass. My parents were proud to have me, I think. The brought me up together, mother took maternity leave from her job but then ended up giving it up until a later date so that she could stay at home with me. My father on the other hand stayed at work and became the bread winner of the family and would come home after work to take over care whilst mother had a rest. So they first decade of my life was fairly sheltered, I had my parents, we lived in a good neighbourhood, I attended a good primary school, we pretty much lived the perfect lifestyle, your perfect average family. It was very sweet wasn't it?
Then at the tender age of twelve, I had my life come tumbling down on me like a ton of bricks, the façade that I had been living in ripped into shreds and the pieces burnt into thick, black smoke. It's funny how people don't pay much attention to the quite, reserved child, maybe if something had happened earlier on, an intervention of sorts, I might not have turned into the f***ed up person I am now. Too bad, s*** happens. At this point in time, mother had returned to work – starting back at her old job once I had started school. To me, the divorce came unexpectedly, it seems that my father was having an affair at the office with the pretty secretary who would often pick me up from school and treat me to an ice-cream before taking me to see my father. When mother found out she divorced my father promptly, but the real shock came when he was all too happy to agree. I found out at a later date when my mother applied for full custody of me that my father had another child on the way – another son – and was all too happy to forget about me. I can even hear the words he said that day: "I'll pay for child support if only you keep the kid away from me; I have more important things to worry about." Some father he was, I never went to his office ever again, never heard his voice and his secretary never came to pick me up. I moved to the other side of town with my mother, the memories too much of a burden.
From then on my problems began to spiral out of control and I fell into a dark place where I cursed myself for even being born. The divorce took a lot out of me and soon I fell in with the wrong crowds. I found my escape from reality through a drug unlike no others. It was called "Pain", and my new cultist friends revelled in it. The idea of it was that we would choose whom we wanted to cut us and with what weapon. The weapons ranged from kitchen knives, to whips. The sensation that we derived from it was along the same lines as someone taking drugs, the euphoria was immense. This carried on for years and I immediately assimilated into their ranks – becoming one of them and ultimately fitting in.
Then He came into my life. It was high school time and my mother forced me to attend the school she worked at, meaning that I could only see my 'friends' after school and even then did she keep an eye on me. Aiden was the first to approach me during our class identification exercise, everyone just ignored me. He offered to be my friend and at first I turned him down but he continue to pester me about it in class until one day I accepted his offer to introduce me to his ragtag group of friends. Unlike my previous cultist friends, these people accepted me right away, they didn't care for my past or my loyalty, there was no initiation test, and I was one of them because of our similarities. None of them knew the sort of things I had been through, not many even cared to know, they only wanted to know what I liked – that was our connection to each other. After a while I began to feel comfortable in this group and started to confide in Aiden, and he listened to me. Aiden told me he could never understand the things that I had been through but he had a fair idea of how I felt and we became the best of friends. My mother re-married and this time to my Arts Teacher who seemed like a good guy. I was in my final year of high school when this happened and at first, my step-father seemed like a real nice person but of course this was only a façade; a ploy to get closer to my mother.
I left home at the end of my last year and split paths from many of my friends, Calydon is a massive city. I went into the halls of residency for Calydon University and began to study law alongside an arts degree. This is where I will start my story, I am currently studying law and I haven't talked to my mother in two years, my father in nine. I have put my horrible f***ed up past in a box and placed it in a shelf at the back of my mind. But now as I lay here, dying on the steps of an alter to a god I have just myself denied, I see the box falling off the shelf, spilling its contents all over the floor, much like the blood seeping from my wounds. As the contents flash by rapidly, they begin to slow down, I see myself back at the start where it all began, back at the moment in time that I made this fatal choice, a choice where I f***ed up my own life, no longer able to pin the blame on someone else.
God, why the f*** have you done this to me?
Prologue
I was born like any other person out there, in a hospital with doctors and nurses all crowding around, anticipating my arrival. My mother lay on the bed, giving me something I did not deserve – life. My father stood beside her, giving her all the moral support he could think of at that time, but something tells me he was thinking about something else. They were new parents, in their early twenties; I would be their first child… and their last. My father was a corporate executive in some big corporation situated in our home city of Calydon; my mother on the other hand was a secondary school teacher at Calydon High School where she taught Chemistry. It was this high school that they met; they had been high school sweethearts in their day, lived together through university and after becoming successful, they brought me into this world.
So there I was; a newly born carcass. My parents were proud to have me, I think. The brought me up together, mother took maternity leave from her job but then ended up giving it up until a later date so that she could stay at home with me. My father on the other hand stayed at work and became the bread winner of the family and would come home after work to take over care whilst mother had a rest. So they first decade of my life was fairly sheltered, I had my parents, we lived in a good neighbourhood, I attended a good primary school, we pretty much lived the perfect lifestyle, your perfect average family. It was very sweet wasn't it?
Then at the tender age of twelve, I had my life come tumbling down on me like a ton of bricks, the façade that I had been living in ripped into shreds and the pieces burnt into thick, black smoke. It's funny how people don't pay much attention to the quite, reserved child, maybe if something had happened earlier on, an intervention of sorts, I might not have turned into the f***ed up person I am now. Too bad, s*** happens. At this point in time, mother had returned to work – starting back at her old job once I had started school. To me, the divorce came unexpectedly, it seems that my father was having an affair at the office with the pretty secretary who would often pick me up from school and treat me to an ice-cream before taking me to see my father. When mother found out she divorced my father promptly, but the real shock came when he was all too happy to agree. I found out at a later date when my mother applied for full custody of me that my father had another child on the way – another son – and was all too happy to forget about me. I can even hear the words he said that day: "I'll pay for child support if only you keep the kid away from me; I have more important things to worry about." Some father he was, I never went to his office ever again, never heard his voice and his secretary never came to pick me up. I moved to the other side of town with my mother, the memories too much of a burden.
From then on my problems began to spiral out of control and I fell into a dark place where I cursed myself for even being born. The divorce took a lot out of me and soon I fell in with the wrong crowds. I found my escape from reality through a drug unlike no others. It was called "Pain", and my new cultist friends revelled in it. The idea of it was that we would choose whom we wanted to cut us and with what weapon. The weapons ranged from kitchen knives, to whips. The sensation that we derived from it was along the same lines as someone taking drugs, the euphoria was immense. This carried on for years and I immediately assimilated into their ranks – becoming one of them and ultimately fitting in.
Then He came into my life. It was high school time and my mother forced me to attend the school she worked at, meaning that I could only see my 'friends' after school and even then did she keep an eye on me. Aiden was the first to approach me during our class identification exercise, everyone just ignored me. He offered to be my friend and at first I turned him down but he continue to pester me about it in class until one day I accepted his offer to introduce me to his ragtag group of friends. Unlike my previous cultist friends, these people accepted me right away, they didn't care for my past or my loyalty, there was no initiation test, and I was one of them because of our similarities. None of them knew the sort of things I had been through, not many even cared to know, they only wanted to know what I liked – that was our connection to each other. After a while I began to feel comfortable in this group and started to confide in Aiden, and he listened to me. Aiden told me he could never understand the things that I had been through but he had a fair idea of how I felt and we became the best of friends. My mother re-married and this time to my Arts Teacher who seemed like a good guy. I was in my final year of high school when this happened and at first, my step-father seemed like a real nice person but of course this was only a façade; a ploy to get closer to my mother.
I left home at the end of my last year and split paths from many of my friends, Calydon is a massive city. I went into the halls of residency for Calydon University and began to study law alongside an arts degree. This is where I will start my story, I am currently studying law and I haven't talked to my mother in two years, my father in nine. I have put my horrible f***ed up past in a box and placed it in a shelf at the back of my mind. But now as I lay here, dying on the steps of an alter to a god I have just myself denied, I see the box falling off the shelf, spilling its contents all over the floor, much like the blood seeping from my wounds. As the contents flash by rapidly, they begin to slow down, I see myself back at the start where it all began, back at the moment in time that I made this fatal choice, a choice where I f***ed up my own life, no longer able to pin the blame on someone else.
God, why the f*** have you done this to me?
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