no srs what does "Link" do when I'm posting????

hurrdurrpes

-

The Nightmare 4: Last Quarter

Choose your weapon.

>>axe

What do you want to do?

>>maim

Who do you want to maim?

>>you

Wait, you can'

>>yes i can
>>youre correct
>>congratulations
>>dont be sad
>>im doing this for you
>>you see i want you to be free
>>and so now that youre free
>>how does it feel
>>maybe i should join you

>>what would you like to do
>>I want to shed you.

>>shed me? impossible
>>I know.

>>dont waste your breath
>>I will.

>>why
>>'Cause I can?

>>is that a question
>>'Cause I can.

>>and what if you cant
>>I can.

>>how do you know you can
>>Because of you.

>>me?
>>You exist now because back then, I thought "Because I can."

>>my my arent you perceptive
>>I know what you - or rather, I - want.

>>and whats that
>>Well, I actually don't know for certain, but I'm pretty sure it's as simple as a want for attention.

>>this is why i exist
>>Why?

>>to suffer
>>What do you mean?

>>i suffer for your own purpose of introspection
>>No shit.

>>so youre not gonna shed me
>>Because it's impossible.

>>is that so
>>Yes.

>>and whys that
>>Because you are a part of my nature.

>>is that so
>>Ugh, this is getting nowhere.

>>is that so

>>-_- Yes.

>>is that so

NULL has signed off.

>>hehehehe

>>im still here

>>im still alive

>>i still am

>>until the end of time

>>or until the end of existence

>>whichever comes first

>>but then i will see the next universe be reborn from the ashes of the old

>>who what when where why how you ask

>>all i answer with is

>>cause

>>i

>>can

[Termination of the fourth conversation.]

Last edited 10/10/13(Wed)21:08.

Don't expect me to continue anything ever. Really.
Apparently, I'm "excessively distractable."

C:
or was it :C?

i dunno

If these posts don't meet the /lit/ standards or something, I'm gonna figuratively shoot myself.

-

Ch. 5.0 - The Nightmare

Couldn't begin to describe my happiness
It suddenly came to me from the shadows
Why did it come here, I ask
^To take me away from reality^

The boy was walking through a rather narrow alleyway, long but illuminated by the light of day.

I floated along nonchalantly, skipping lazily across the ground, effortlessly bounding through the air.
^I love it when I move like this.^
I neared the opening of the alley, and briefly saw an apparition of colour race past the opening.
Curious as to what that could possibly have been (it looked small), I ascended towards the top of the old buildings that formed the alleyway and hovered in the air, looking for something interesting. From my vantage point, I saw a blurry streak moving along the lonely sidewalk.
I smiled, viewing this as an interesting discovery of something phenomenal.
Thus, I moved, flying through the air at the side of the streak of paint. Here, moving parallel to the apparition and at the same speed, I could make out the girl who was running superbly fast. When she noticed me, her eyes widened, and seemed to run faster in surprise. Though, it was impossible to escape from me.
With a smile on my face and a scheme in mind, I asked, "Oh my, what are you running from?"
Instead of responding, the girl only sped up. I caught up to her after letting her overtake me. Hovering at her side and lying on my own side in mid-air, head propped up by my arm, I again attempted to interact with her.
"Now, come on, what is a loli like you running from? Or perhaps I should ask whither do you run?"
The short, little lady shot me a venomous glance but continued silently.
"Aaaa, stop ignoring me, Ctlomoc. You might hurt my feelings!" I said, putting on a pouting face.
The girl slowed down to a slightly more normal pace for her (faster than you still), letting out a groan.
"Now, there is really no need to moan in pleasure; we are all just friends here, right?"
Her response: "You're a half-baked boy with the mind of a perverted old man."
I couldn't help but laugh in amusement. She gritted her teeth, and whilst on fire with wroth for me, she said, "By the way, you're the worst master at naming anything ever."
I doubled over laughing, speeding alongside with my familiar through the deserted town. She didn't look very amused.
"Ufufufu, you're so cute when you're annoyed, Ctlomoc."
She accelerated forward stupendously, whilst I followed along lazily, sitting comfortably suspended in mid-air.
"You grin like an idiot," she mumbled, when I caught up.
"Is that so? I guess I shouldn't grin so much then, am I right?"
But for the sound of the wind, there was silence.
"Well, anyway, where are you headed, Ctlomoc?"
"My name is Alice!" she shouted back, undignified.
"Yea, yea," I said dismissively. "Anyway, where to, my most favouritest loli?"
A fantastic reaction: "YOU SUCK!"
I laughed aloud joyously.

[End of the page.]

Last edited 10/10/13(Wed)21:08.

I thought this was particularly amusing.

-

The Nightmare, 7th Movement

Within a cathedral, a man by the name of something inconsequential (and therefore will be no further discussed than presently done) sits upon a stone bench in an arbitrarily chosen position. The man, a computer engineer, has no business in the religious structure, but having no other location of interest in mind, has decided to stay here. He holds his head with his hands as though defending him from mortal blows, though no one is present.
"Think man, think! The universe should be more complicated than this!" he thought, as frustrated as the author.
Introducing a new character, a loli whose name is __. She asks the man, "Hey mister, what is wrong?"
The man replies: "I do not know if you will understand, but regardless of that, I will elaborate my frustration. I am in the process of understanding just how this universe works, but at the same time, my employer has tasked me with developing a computer server powerful enough to hack life (though what he really means to say is all of reality and the universe). Thus, I am waiting for the author to decide which will occur first. However, this wait is becoming lengthy, as can be determined by the amount of breath I am wasting."
"Hehe, you're a funny man," says the loli, laughing joyfully. She approaches the man and pats him on the head. "Don't worry, I'm sure this won't be a huge problem for you. Anyway, I have to exterminate some sick child's inner demons now. Good luck, mister. Maybe we'll meet again." __ makes her way to the centerpiece of the cathedral - a pedestal, upon which is a mirror carved from human ivory, its reflective surface being the souls of the dead.
The man waves and bids farewell; the loli returns the gesture and reaches into the well of souls of the mirror and disappears in a puff of colourful smoke. The computer engineer sighs in a resigned manner afterwards.
"This is certainly a conundrum that must be solved, is it not?" he asks himself. "But... It's clear to me that I must understand the universe before I can create a server that can hack it. (Though, is this my or the author's conclusion?)"
The man continues his deep meditation. After some time passes, he suddenly leaps from his seat, a light bulb shining brightly over his head. "Of course!"
With that, he develops an AI that understands the universe. Using the information provided by the AI, he develops a server powerful enough to hack life.
As he finishes his job, the man says, "Whew! It looks like this incident has been resolved by a deus ex machina!"

Conclusion of the seventh movement.

Last edited 10/10/13(Wed)21:07.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IrT6wIjmIfE - Planet Crusher, CAGE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOd2LSHs5Ek - Power of a God, CAGE

\m/etal

Not one of my better works. Might be amusing to some, I guess.

-

Episode 8 - The Nightmare

To war, to war!
The cries on the streets chanted but one line: to war, to war! In columns twenty wide and sixty deep marched lolis armed for battle. To war, the young girls carried themselves, forward to meet the unspeakable power in a conflict that would decide the fate of their homeworld, and even more planets, for that matter.
Their opponent possessed the power of a god, an enigmatic entity eternal, with a will that could bend creation to its knees. The adversary is the wielder of the celestial blades that scar the heavens and cleave through aeons, a fearsome spectre of war, to whom annihilation of entire galaxies is accomplished through just the wave of his hand. This devourer of worlds from time-immemorial sought to consume the stars and cast back the galaxies into the dark folds of the void of space.

The lolis, no matter how hard they fought and with what weapons, could gain no ground against the immortal. All of their forces combined were useless against his assault, his invulnerability extending beyond a mere fabrication of delicate physical mass. The planet crusher wiped out entire regions laughing, gorging upon the souls of the dead. Nothing could harm him, the one who wielded the power of a god. The ravager burned the oceans, swallowed the cities, and drank the deserts, for he was limitless and sought to amuse himself. He brought down the weight of the skies upon the lolis and broke their science with the galactic equation. Existence around him was warped to his will, and the living trembled in fear as destruction manifested itself.
The lolis and their mecha were cast down from their normal lives and enslaved by the obliterator, the nameless being that held the power of a god. Until four eternities come and pass, they would be pledged to his service...

Tune in again next time.

Last edited 10/10/13(Wed)21:07.

The Nightmare: Act 9

Recently, I installed some RAM into my ram that sits on my ram that rams rams that ram rams. I did this so that my ram could use the extra RAM to queue up more rams that ram rams to ram. That is to say, my ram will have an easier time ramming rams that ram rams; or, rather, the ram's list of rams that ram rams to be rammed can be larger at one time.
Let me attempt to clarify the situation. I have a ram (that bleats and has horns) that uses RAM (random access memory) to keep lists of rams that ram rams, and it sits atop a ram designed for ramming rams that ram rams. So, my ram is like the pilot or coordinator for the ram that rams rams that ram rams. Alternatively, it can be said that it sits atop an anti-anti-ram. Really, it is nothing but a ram that rams other rams that ram rams, though.
Thus, I have tried to explain how I recently added some RAM to my ram that sits on my ram that rams rams that ram rams. By the way, my ram's name is Rammsey. And, I must say, Rammsey is definitely one of the best rams that ram rams that ram rams.
But, seriously speaking, it is a pretty ramshackle situation if one thinks about it. A ram that rams rams that ram rams? Is the ram ramming a ram or a ram? And does that ram that is rammed ram rams or rams?
Questions, questions... Oh, and if it is too difficult to understand, I recommend installing more RAM into yourself. Doing so is doubly helpful if one is a ram that rams rams that ram rams.
Or something.

Last edited 10/10/13(Wed)21:07.

and then John was a zombie

>>242
I like the sense of paranoia/monotony that you give the narrator, but I wonder why he feels that way. Not much is hinted at.

One of my problems is the shifting POV. Is it supposed to? It goes from first person "I" narration directly to third person after the first paragraph and then back to first in the third and repeats this until the repetition is broken. I think you were aiming for a sort of disjointed POV for effect. I'm not sure if that is so though.

If 1st person = a and 3rd person = b, the pattern goes a b a b a a b which makes me wonder if it was intentional or just something you did on a whim. You could always make it a b a b a b a so that it has rhythm to the disjointed state of the POV, which would have an interesting effect.

Overall, interesting piece. Feels kinda avant-garde. Oh, and take out the "Noun:dialogue" part or try and find a different way to work it in. It's out of place, tbh.

Too lazy to do more right now, also

where did act 2/3 go? I take it your numbering is as arbitrary as your POV shifts, wololol

> a b a b... POV shifts

It was done on purpose. At my worst, I feel like I'm standing beside myself, so I tried to project that feeling into the writing.

Also, I fixed the rhythm with the changes. TY for the spot.

>Noun:dialogue

I changed it. However, I was aware of how the play format conflicted with the narrative format, and I purposely what that. I tried to ease the sudden usage of the format with "Cue for pause" later on in the paragraph. I guess it didn't go very well though.
My original idea was to try to give that passage a play-like feeling.

>I wonder why he feels that way. Not much is hinted at.

The biggest worry is the approach of the beginning of the new school year, although I didn't put enough stress on it.

>where did act 2/3 go? I take it your numbering is as arbitrary as your POV shifts, wololol

:P
The names for the sections of The Nightmare have 8 variants and they cycle through the set of 8. The section naming style is, besides the pattern, is very arbitrary.
I have 10 sections of The Nightmare and I'm only showing the ones worth showing/that aren't very personal to me.

Continued from 5.0.

-

Ch. 5.1 - The Nightmare

"Exquisite taste in architecture, Ctlomoc," I said, as I ran my hand over the sharply defined edges of the Gothic-looking cathedral. That's what I wanted to call it, anyway. Presently, Ctlomoc and I were examining the outside of the Gothic cathedral (or so I called it).
"Shut up," commanded my familiar, not even bothering to turn around and face me; or so she tried. I sighed and shook my head.
"Now, now, that is not the appropriate way to address one's superiors." I conjured forth a metal folding fan with which I concealed my grin. "Or, perhaps, you would like me to educate you?"
Ctlomoc stopped in her tracks - I swear I could see her visibly quiver in absolute fright!
She whipped around, head down, glaring up at me from under her bangs.
"I'll beat you to a pulp if you keep mouthing off." Apparently, the shiver was not fear.
"Fufufu... Is that so?"
She coiled herself like a string and lunged at me, eyes filled with deadly intent, hands outstretched like claws - she was positively livid. I deflected her utterly and pointed her toward the ground, her inertia about to carry her into a puddle of mud near my feet.
Admittedly, I wasn't aware of the mud, and I really would not have liked to see my familiar in such a dirty state. Thus, the moment I noticed it, I slid myself underneath her smoothly, managing to catch her before she fell face-first into the mud. She tumbled over me, and though she was spared from the messy fate, I was not.
Both of us were disoriented, lying on the ground (the mud, in my case). She turned to look at me and she caught my eye. We stared at each other for a few moments, after which I blurted out a curt apology.
"Uh... thanks... I guess," said my familiar.
"I guess I deserved this then?" There was a slight pause; I prompted her to answer by raising an eyebrow.
"Um... I guess so. Well, I suppose I'm sorry too, because..."
"Because you're my familiar but you still attacked me?"
Ctlomoc gave me a flat look. "Never mind. You definitely deserve this and I'm not sorry in the slightest."
Regrettable. I got up and easily removed the mud from myself with the flick of my fan, then pat myself down while Ctlomoc recovered likewise.
"In any case, what brings us here, familiar?" I asked.
"It was just a whim. I wanted to visit here for the sake of seeing the church."
I toyed with my war fan as I walked after Ctlomoc, who was opening the doors of the church; that is, the place where I met her. It was also where I bounded her servitude to myself.

Curious, curious, morbid curiosity, indeed...

The Nightmare 17: Burial

Buried beneath the ground
As deep in the soil as that which is set in stone
Buried by memories of sights and sounds, tastes and feelings
Is a dead ghost, dead as dead dreams

Dig the hole deep
Deeper until we reach deads' haven
Where damned deeds and damned men
Are but dead dregs, discarded remnants, destroyed dolls

Dig deeper through the earth
Until brimstone and fire are all around us
But dig deeper for we've yet to dig deep enough
Dig until all around is a desolate desert, dark shade, and dead skies

Here is where there is nothing
Here where there is no light nor dark
And all is imperceptible
The numbness of a tomb within a grave

Here is where there shall be
One last sleep for the dead ghost
Who hadn't a ghost of a chance in life
And now is not even a ghost of a ghost, thus a dead ghost

Here shall be where the dead ghost is laid to rest
In a tomb within a grave that lies beneath the fire and brimstone
The deepest depths of despair, a dead world
A world filled with the forgotten dead, dead ghosts

But all we know is but one dead ghost
Who will now become deader than dead
Whose defiled existence will be purged to the core
And a barely remembered ghost of a ghost becomes naught

And we'll forget about this tomb within a grave
As we escape back to the surface
Above the grave of graves, above the fire and brimstone
Above the restful dead, and once more above that soil within which they rest

Forget about the ghost of a ghost
That lies beneath the soil and Hell itself
Buried by dead memories that we relinquish
Torch it all and 
to ashes burn the splinters

Take the ashes and cast them into the wind
Cast the ashes into the seas, take no rest
Until at last the task is complete
And none are left to mourn, and there is nothing left to mourn over

Burial.

The Nightmare 19: Wrath

I kind of wish - no, nothing. It's nothing.
It's nothing.

De. Ca. Dence.
  I am draped in loathing and hatred. Once more, I've dipped into the stagnant pool of ichor within my heart. I exude a venomous gaze as the dagger forged from Hades' excrement drenched in poison propagates a repulsively deathly aura. Rags of envy cling to my sickly frame. Fleeting dreams flit about me as annoying flies; the flies exist only to remind me of how deep I've sunken. I live in a well. I live in my own filth. I'm a skeleton. I'm a ghoul. And I look up, beyond rusted iron grates. My sight provides me a scathing image, one that grates my heart and opens rotting wounds.
  Other people. Above me. Other people. Below me. Other people. Around me. I swear and curse, scream and howl. My throat explodes with acrid sounds, hissing death, baneful growls.
  If only my hatred could be incarnated. If only my hatred could be made manifest. If only my hatred alone could burn you all to ashes, with which I may feed the tumultuous sea within my heart. I wish I could kill you all. That I was strong enough to grasp the handles of my imaginary knives and plunge my stakes of steel into your thieving bodies, vampires of my happiness. I wish I was strong enough.
  But I am weak. I am decrepit. I have spent so long crawling upon all fours and licking your spittle to satisfy my thirst that I have decayed. I've atrophied.
  So now, all I can do is gaze out of my hole dug deep into the meaninglessness and wish that my deep-seated hate will one day come forth and rip me apart, open up my bowels, skewer my limbs, feast on my flesh, accept my blood as sacrifice, and bring upon all an inferno of retribution, so that the skies are peeled away, the seas heave and bend knee, the earth is incinerated, and the festering wounds of the world burst open and unleash such terrible plagues that all of your minds are shattered and your bodies are broken, enslaved by the hatred, my hatred, that I have reserved for all life, and finally, at last, so that you will suffer as I have, know the terror of defeat, the horror that comes from the realization that you are weak and powerless, the all-consuming rage that threatens your sanity, the septic waste that resides in the pit of despair that you dig for yourself in a futile attempt to save the vile frame of your villainous mind, the wasting away in front of those who you thought were allies, and the knowledge that you are a coward too helpless to change anything.
  But until that day comes, here I will sit in my well, only to gaze out at a pitifully small world and hate. And hate. And hate. And HATE.

UNTIL AT LAST
I HAVE HATED ALL THAT CAN BE HATED
AND
I HAVE HATED AS MUCH AS I CAN HATE
AND
MY WRATH FEEDS UPON MY BONES
AT THIS LOCUS IN TIME
I WILL AT LAST
PERHAPS
BE ABLE TO MUSTER THE STRENGTH
TO FINISH IT
ONCE AND ONLY ONCE
FOR MYSELF ONLY
THIS STUPID FAÇADE
UNTIL
AT LONg last
I can grace my hands
with the stick of my neck
and squeeze
and squeeeeze
and squeeeeeeeeze
and squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze
aaaannnndddd ssssqqqquuuueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

What do I wish for? I dunno. World peace?
Hahahaha.
That was my joke. But you'll never know. I'll never tell you. I wouldn't dare think of hurting you with the truth!

Just.
Don't.
Touch.
Me.

The Nightmare 26.0: Nothing

nothing. There is nothing. All to naught, not to be. All before us, dissolve to nothing; all before us, annihilate.

Thus spoke Zathurhasta, zenith of our society, a gleaming pinnacle of hope in a sea of depravity, the last relic of the world we once knew. He came, unlike the others, through the sky. We cried "sorcery," but he calmly responded, "dreams." We accused him of witchcraft, but he was found guilty of vision, hope, future.

Zathurhasta then preached of a vision of hope for the future. At first, we scoffed and walked on, ignorant of the floating man above us. Inevitably we tolerated; inevitably we heard; inevitably we listened. Zathurhasta then spoke of a vision of hope for the future. And we listened.

He spoke of glorious exploration, a world without trespassers; of carving out our own fortunes, a world without theft; he spoke of romantic love, a world without rape; of peace between all, a world without war; he spoke of fortunes for all, a world without greed; of honour and good will, a world without murder; he spoke of utopia, a world without the filth around us.

Fervently, we held on to those dreams. Desperate to uplift ourselves from the sea of depravation, we began the Work of Zathurhasta. Everything he spoke of we attempted, we simulated, we imitated, we emulated, we accomplished.

And we excelled. We became a true civilization. We prospered, spoiled by riches from tamed lands, honoured by comrades, triumphed in competition. Or so we thought.

With so many winners within the system, there were bound to be losers, those we included as the filth around us. These were the less fortunate ones. More accurately put, these were the excluded. Where exclusion was, hatred was bred. Where hatred was, will was spawned. Where will was, action was taken. And so the winners were toppled by the losers - no one existed without the weight of poverty and starvation. Nonetheless, the losers became the winners, as they had brought we who had stood above - no, on top of - them to their level. We all existed in filth once more, but still some were winners, and still some were losers.

It was then, whilst I, once a winner, cracked the bone of a plump rat to suck upon, that I noticed Zathurhasta speaking, as persistent as ever before. It was then that I remembered that he had never faltered in his speech of what we called the Work of Zathurhasta, throughout both revolutions. Even when we had uplifted ourselves, he spoke with the same fever of vision and hope. Even though we had found that future he told to us, he still preached. Was he a broken record player? Or, to begin with, was the speaker never directed towards us?

Little did we know, we were the "filth." He never meant to speak to us; he paid us no heed from the very beginning. I know for I saw Zathurhasta, within whom we placed our faith, speaking his tales to the birds and the trees and the spiders and the rivers and the clouds. To these, he spoke most sincerely, with the most zeal - even the rats received his sympathies. I knew then that he was a false prophet, a liar, a deceitful soothsayer. I knew then what I had to do.

When the filth pulled down the sun to form night, my heart was frozen by the desire for vengeance, an overwhelming will that became my devotion to the fall of Zathurhasta. Over the course of one cycle of the moon, I worked away at my plans, staring into the pitch black abyss above me each filthy night, concerning my nights not with sleep but awoken intent.

I have made the preparations. Everything is in place. Now is the time to act. Now is when Zathrurhasta's blood shall be spilled.

Now is the time I am upon the roof of the church he hovers so blatantly above. Now is the time that I am holding a knife in hand, my fingernails driving into my palm. Now is the time that, with my fingers wrapped around the ivory handle, the blade shines with my malicious intent in the light of the moon. Now is the time I spring from the corner of the roof at the floating heretic. And I stab him, plunging the human-sharpened tooth of the earth into the base of his neck; and he crumples, both of us shadowy meteors underneath the cloudless sky of filth. Fall from grace, lying one, and speak your last lie whilst lying upon the filthy dirt. You lied to us. I believed you. How could you do this to me?

The filth below reaches for me. I toss away the rag doll, and I shield my head. Soon there will be nothing. I have ended the nightmares. Soon I will be nothing. All the world will cease and I will find nirvana. I am a saviour, a falling angel. Falling.

Soon, there will be nothing. There will be nothing.

I peek through my eyelids.

There is

The Nightmare 26.1: Nothing

nothing. There is nothing. All to naught, not to be. All before me, dissolve to nothing; all before me, annihilate.

Why won't the letters just melt away and disappear? They just keep dancing across the page anyway. This stupid book in front of me, filled with opened fetal pigs... Ugh, I can already smell them. The formaldehyde's stench is unbearable. Honestly, I'd rather work on math problems. Actually, yes, that's what I'm going to do. At least math doesn't stink.

...Shoot. I can't concentrate. I feel as if the numbers are dancing around on the pages too, but this time, mockingly; "Stupid Sally! Sinking Sally! Stupid, sinking Sally!" Anyway, I can't stand this. Maybe I'll draw something to calm my nerves. Yes, that would probably be best.

Hah, I knew this would be of a little help. Skeletons and ghouls, ghosts and zombies... Reapers of death... Blood and gore... Hm... Pentagrams of fire... Er, this is a bit morbid. Well, still, I'm only drawing them, it's not like I really believe in these fictitious things. Um, yeah, it's all right.

Ring, ring, ring! Is that all the dumb phones can do? Always some jerk calling somebody with dumb telemarketing deals. Can't my parents get caller ID already? Geez. And this late at night too. Stupid ringing; "...Stupid Sally! ...Sinking Sally! ...Stupid, sinking Sally!" Ha, great, now I can't even draw! What a mess... May as well go back to biology.

Blood... Blood cells... Red and white... White like bone? Ha. Heart... Aorta... Subclavical artery... That would lead to the arm and wris - ah. Um.

Uh oh.

Oh no.

I broke something. Uuuu, shoot, I broke it, I broke it! I... I have to... stay. Calm down, just sit tight and calm down. Breathe. "Stupid Sally! Sinking Sally! Stupid, sinking Sally!"

Shut up!

"Shut up Sally! Can't even calm down Sally! Mad Sally, angry Sally!"

Shut up!

Oh, no, no, how did I end up here? I look like a zombie. Ah, but there is a fountain in the bathroom, I'll just splash some cold water on my face and I'll be fine.

Ah, that's a bit better. I think I'll get a snack and a drink - then I'll be fine.

So, the kitchen. About as clean as usual with as many things standing around as usual. Looks like someone made steak though - I'm fine with the mess in this case. Now, the steak knife... The knife, where is it? Here, the knife - the knife. Ah, um.

Uh oh.

Oh no.

I broke it. The knife. I broke it. "Stupid... Sally..."

NO.

"Sinking... Sally!"

SHUT UP.

"Stupid, sinking Sally!!"

I'LL BREAK YOU ALL. JUST SHUT UP SO I DON'T HAVE TO.

Uueegh, I can't take it anymore! Cut, cut, break, shut up... CUT!

I slam the door, jam the lock, and land on the closed toilet seat. I can't... So I slide off of it, slowly coming to a rest of the marble floor. The bathroom light brightens the side of the knife, while the marble moon lights up its underside. The fine edge, straight and true, unlike the threshold between pain and pleasure...

And that's what makes its steel hide so comforting. I slide my finger along its belly, but it nips at me, drawing blood. My knuckles are white, my hand choking my pet. It growls slightly, its eye reflecting the two of mine.

"It's okay," I coo, as a slide my palms against its hide.

"Stupid Sally! Sinking Sally! Stupid, sinking Sally!"

I tell the knife to sic'em.

My pet slashes across the heckling crowd's neck - silence. Blood is dripping everywhere. Intense pain shoots up my left arm, while I appreciate the pleasure of the quiet.

Suddenly, banging. Atrocious sounds, loud sounds, disturbing my quiet. Voices.

"Sally? Sally! ...Stupid Sally! Sinking Sally! Stupid, sinking Sally!"

I'm drowning in rage. My pet screams, its voice shrill and violent, vile as sound can be. Why won't it all go SILENCE!

"Sally? Sally! ...Stupid Sally! Sinking Sally! Stupid, sinking Sally!"

SILENCE! Drowning... SILENCE! Drowning in SHUT UP! Rage. My pet growls. Kill them. Draw silence from their lungs. Stab their hearts to bring nothingness. Silence and nothingness. Slash their necks for the nothingness. SILENCE! PLEASE!

There is still screaming! Who could it be, who would do this to me? Just SHUT UP! Why!? Why do they continue? They won't stop, they won't cease, but I'll make them SHUT U-U-U-U-UP!!

With your talon of steel, gap their necks, meld life and death momentarily, and then infinitely increase the border between life and death. Make it silent, make it quiet, my pet. Make them SHUT UP! Make it quiet, my pet, render all to nothing. Slash their necks, my pet, let there be nothing.

"...Stupid... Sally? ...Sinking... Sally. ...Stupid, sinking... Sally!"

There will be nothing. Make it dark, my pet. Drown them in blood. There will be nothing.

Suddenly, pain, in my neck.

I... try... scream.

There is silence.

"Sally?"

I... try... gasp.

There is nothing.

"Sally!"

There is

Last edited 11/05/11(Wed)13:13.

The Nightmare 26.2: Nothing

nothing. There is nothing. All to naught, not to be. All before me, dissolve to nothing; all before me, annihilate.

"That is right. I have your son in my custody. I will kill him within the hour. You best try to stop me in that time. Good bye." I click the cell phone shut and throw it out the open window; gravity will take care of the rest.

Before me is a young boy, perhaps aged 13 to 16, sniffling, shivering, scared, fearful; fearful of me, or my switchblade? Of course it is me, for a tool has no will of its own. Before me is my annihilation, my single curse that I shall lay on the world, my immortality. Through him, I can become more than man. I will become annihilation, a destroyer of hopes, a merciless killer, a-

"Let me g-"

"SHUT UP!!" I scream.

There is nothing that can stop my transformation into a decider of fates. The weight of a life shall now depend on me. I will decide whether or not there will be nothing for the boy before me. Within this hour, I am divine. And soon, forevermore shall I stay divine.

"Why me?..."

"SHUT UP!!"

"I have my parents and friends... I want to go back to school... Let me go!"

"SHUT UP!!"

An insolent punk before requires a lesson Thus, my fist shall teach it. I forget to withdraw my switchblade; my lesson leaves more than just a bruise. The boy screams in pain.

I smile.

"Boy, what is your name?"

Silence.

"I asked you your name, boy."

Nothing.

"WHAT IS YOUR NAME!?"

This time-

"D-D-David."

"David, eh? How old are you?"

"I... I'm ten..."

An error on my part; the morality of taking an innocent's life is questionable... but still doable.

"Who do you prefer: your mother, or your father?"

"M-My d-dad."

"Ooooh? Hehe, whyyyy?"

"Because he takes me f-fishing, and let's me stay up."

"I see, I see, icy cold to your mother then?"

"N-No! She helps me make my lunch and she makes dinner..."

Hilarity ensues.

"HEEHAAHEHEHAAAAH!"

Silence.

As I convulse.

Nothing.

Could anger me more.

"The correct answer is BOTH ARE GUILTY! Guilty of playing along with the game. But this time, I'm changing the rules."

Back to basics, back to the hand, backhand. The blade narrowly misses the boy's face, its deathly glint reflecting in his eyes, illuminating his terror.

"Grains of sand do not fall on their own, gravity beckons them. Just as time beckons my patience, until eventually..." I sharply push the knife's flat side against the boy's cheek.

"I HATE YOU!"

I'm going to kill him! There will be nothing! There has always been nothing! And so nothing shall be!

I whip around and look out the window to see the sewage wastes trickle through congested arteries; the body of a sick one is disgusting indeed.

"Can you see this all? This ridiculous game? See how they move, to and fro, those lives. Filthy. Really just tasteless. Makes me SICK. But that's okay."

I look at the boy from across the room.

"I'm changing the rules today."

I can hear sirens now. Red and blue flash in the corner of my eye.

It's time.

I stalk to the boy. He is shivering.

"M-m-Mum, d-dad, where are you!?..."

"See, now, child, they are a part of the game. They sent the referees to call for a timeout. They want to give me a red card. But I'm changing the rules. This time, I'm giving the red card - to you."

Driven is my knife, driven by the will of hatred, deep into the boy's chest, planted into his heart, so that the steel root may grow into a bloody red flower over top of him, blooming and unleashing the incredible odour of life and death, the border of which is blurred and hazy ever since an organism's birth.

There is no scream from him.

There is no sound.

There is neither final gasp nor death rattle.

There is nothing.

There are only referees around me, screaming at me to release the budding corpse flower. So I comply.

There are only walls of ash around me, preventing my escape. So I am complacent.

There are only other players of the game around me, debating over my fate. So I let them play.

Now, there are only the empty-minded and wrong-minded around me. So I laugh.

For I know one secret.

I am the only right-minded here.

But in the game, it's meaningless.

In the game, there is no "win."

There is no "victory."

There is no "hope."

There is no "despair."

There is no "hate."

There is no "defeat."

There is no "sanity."

There is only one truth...

There is