Spontaneous writing

[Kilrogg_Deadeye]

Wow, my logon name still exists, though they'd deleted it by know. Anyways, hello there. I'm sure some one will remember. Stranges things seems to have happened to the board since I use to come here regularly (two years ago?). Wow.

Anyways, I also see that the board is dying out huh? Well, I thought maybe if we did something a bit challenging, maybe people would come back more often. So I propose that we reach a bit into our artistic souls, and do some spontaneous writing. Don't think, just sit down, and write. I'll choose a theme, and you write whatever comes to your mind when you think of that word. Hope this'll be helpful...

And the theme is...loneliness. Alike so....

The road curved as it descended into the small valley. God damn blast it, it was cold. And dark, worst possible combination. I was suppose to have been there by now, but I had been delayed by bad weather, and so I was stuck here, not a soul to talk to. In this darkness the road seemed to have no end, it just seemed like a ongoing trail that I would be doomed to wander forever. It's also strange how time is changed, like sound, when things are dark and quiet. As you start to notice the sound of the wind breezing through the grass, you also start to notice the seconds ticking my, becoming slower and slower. It is times like these than my mind, like the road, seems to wander off into infinity, and reaches all the worst possible thoughts.

I thought of home. Home, sweet home. Why I had I even left? Why had I parted from my loved ones, the warmth, the light, the comfortable ticking of the seconds? I really couldn't think of any reasons as I was walking along the infinte road. Could it be that I had been unsatisfied of what I had left, that I had foolishly though I would be able to find something better. In that case, I had been proven more wrong that I would ever acknowledge to myself (I knew I would continue walking this dark road, stubborn as I am). Maybe I had thought myself unworthy of my home, and that I deserved this darkness. In that case, I had received more than enough. I just wanted a bit of light, just someone to talk to. But on this long road there is only oneself, and no one else.

As if I my thoughts had some sort of mystical powers, light does indeed appear, over the mountain tops, spreading itself slowly into the valley, and I can see where the road ends, in the village down there. Oh, and what a fool I am, for it is now that I realise that that is my village, and I have walked in circles. I can see my home, and I can hear my loved ones, and suddenly time resums its regular pace. Home, sweet home.

[Flak]

Hey Kilrogg! You're wondering, who the hell are you? That's fine. I know you, so, hi.




---

Snow, everywhere. Reminds me of Christmas, of my family, my friends, snow, lights. Snow everywhere. But this snow is different. It's not white. It's gray. Drab. Suffocating. I shiver a little for effect, but it's not cold snow. Or maybe it is. But my mind isn't focused on the snow.

I remember all those years, all thos gatherings, with bonfires and candles and snow-covered trees. The snow was ornamental, it was pretty. This snow...this snow is different. It's killing me. Well, it's not killing me, just these memories it evokes.

Cold. No family here to warm me up. No heater, no bodies, no words. There's nothing but this gray world. This dreary gray frozen hell. I look up at the sky and am blinded with the swirling gray eddies. The cold itches my eyes and I find tears forming. I trudge on through the thickening snow, memories stabbing at my mind and heart. What I wouldn't give to have them back.

My precious people. Those I cherish. All gone.

The snow simply amplifies my solitude.

[AlarStormBringer]

Boing! The sky opened up in a large grin as the merry traveler skipped down the road. Spinning, twirling, falling, she laughed until she fell into the grass nearby, it embracing her with it's many hands. Happiness.. joy.. love.. She was the epitomy of these things. A young girl with a cute face and a small outfit. Isn't that what most men dream of?

Yet, dreams turn to pain.

Horrid, grotesque pain that you can feel over and over again until there is nought but a gaping hole in your chest. This is how the many are born. The desperate, the lonely. How it is to be one of them..

It is worse than death. The death in the most painful way your nightmares could contain. Yes, that pain. The horror of an empty life, knowing you will never get what you want. Never get your dream. Never be able to create again..

Without dreams, there is no mind, no soul, no heart, and no art. A purely, empty, life.

How they wish they could just die...

------

Heya Killy! I love your old works, I wish they could be reposted!

[A-Thousand-Lies]

I remember you. You wrote that short story about the man who was actually a ghost but did not know it. It revolved around how some people become so mindless with their work that they are no longer people, and that companies often exploit workers to this extent. It was to one side of the page as you wrote it in notepad. I described how it fit my theory of "automacy".

Anyways, welcome back.

[BoneWeary Lich]

Treachery. A terrible bitterness fell upon the dying warrior then. So many years of loyalty and hard work, powered through in pursuit of a dream. Their dream. Anger heated his leaking chest, he was alone once again. He dared not shift the shield, for his belly was ruined, oozing forth entrails and pooling warm blood which filled the crevices beneath him, creating crimson criss – crossed channels. Waves of agony thrashed within him, causing pitiful screams through gritted teeth. He had killed three of the assassins but with mortal wounds. He gazed at the first cloaked corpse and spat, emanating a guttural sound of anguish. Sargin had trusted the gruff old mountain warrior and over the years had learned from his ventures, but when given word from the King, he had conspired to foul murder. The ashen warrior now wore a mask of sadness, which held firm despite the engulfing sea of pain. The torment that the old man felt when ordered to attack his only companion in such a vile manner must have been colossal.

He should never have been so foolhardy. The symptoms were evident, the “boy – king” had become more lu****l year by year and in his quest for glory had discarded his youthful objectives. He could not afford the loss of recognition and so arranged this disgraceful deed. Such injustice was not unfamiliar to Sargin of Parathrace. His childhood had been cruel and unforgiving, with the only comfort coming from the girl that had loved him, the girl who now lay abused and murdered and whose husband lay with fading strength awaiting his imminent passing. The few minutes that lingered with Sargin seemed like lonely hours filled with unclear images and long forgotten memories. Gone was the newfound happiness and in its place anger and enmity birthed anew, loneliness was all that he could comprehend then. In the distance wailed several wolves in response to one another and suddenly he smiled. A curious image leapt to his dissipating mind – that wily old pack leader. For months Sargis had pursued the sly beast, driven by the desire to claim its life and end the constant calculated assaults on livestock. The dark eyed cautious beast had indeed outlasted him. Sargis wondered if he ever truly wanted to slay this wizened oldster.

The following morning the King was informed of the General’s death. When told of the woman’s killing he stumbled to the balcony. It was supposed to be a clean death. But they had taken his wife also. Revenge would be a sweet dish served cold. He arranged for the rapist’s daughter and wife to be killed. His soul burned with an all – consuming shame but this did not stop him from fastening the Iron grip on the Kingdom. The public would wail when told of the unfortunate events, but they could easily be fed with deceit.

[Bullroarer]

My lord and master, why did I turn my back on you. In arrogance I defied the law and like the fool I am, I fell into the pit. The pit where the soul is covered with the oozing oil of sin. Gumming up my morality and conscience. I gave up the light for the pleasures of darkness. I choose the path more fun and easy. Fool was I, for I had forgotten that anything always has a price. If I had known the price I had to pay for a few moments of lucid happiness, then I would never have turned my back.

I recoiled from my fellow man and rebelled against my own father. My own pleasure was put above my honor, my code, my tradition, my faith, my family and most importantly my lord. I listened to the darkness and fell into a state of depression. My mind just could not rise from this horrible and pathetic state of self pity.

I did not want to rise. I did not want to atone, nor take responsibility for my actions. I believed my self a man, but I was still a boy in my brain. I did not know that the world had such a brilliant light. I saw only the darkness and so I retreated from my fellow human beings. I drove away any who tried to help me and I kept my pain a secret. Even when surrounded by hundred, I felt the emptiness in my belly. An emptiness, which could not be filled with either food nor water.

Now all I have are empty regrets of an empty life. I could have spent time with others, but I rather spent time with books. I lived in a fantasy world, ignoring the real one and all its marvelous wonders. I red about the glory of the sun by so many great poets, yet how often did I look into the sky and watch for myself. I thought that I was smarter and better, but in the end I found myself a fool.

I am still sinking within the muck. I am still gasping for some air of salvation. I pray to my lord and master that I may be forgiven for the things that I have wrought. Though I have lost many opportunities, I still crave for another chance to redeem myself and be the man I was meant to be. I still crave to be pulled out of the darkness.