Sharkchild
10-13-2007, 10:32 PM
Hey everyone,
Here is a short piece I wrote that I wanted some opinions on! I will be leaving for Greece tomorrow so I will have to look at what everyone thought when I get back next Sunday. Also, if you like what you read here, then you should definitely check out my short story podcast The Dark Verse---the link in my signature will take you there. Thanks!
The Unsought Galaxy
By Sharkchild
The darkness came quickly without retribution or purpose, with blind perfection it suffocated every last glimpse of light and memory. While I was once whole and complex, I was now vulgar and plain. I do not remember having a thought when the transition took place, nor do I remember any manifestation of sensation or feeling, but when I arose into the cosmos of the beyond, the picture of a demented dreamscape enthralled my existence.
With the darkness came new sight---a sight of which I reluctantly relinquish to the enlightenment of words. This sense of vision was nothing like a projection made by retina and pupil; it was a gift of divine repulsion, the provisional praxis of coming into anew. Relatively, in its most comparable description, it was like being in the bowls of the deepest and blackest abyss with a moon as an eye.
Profound nightmares and horrors swirled within my first glimpse of the nether world, the life beyond, the dark throne. On an altar masked with silk, an entity loomed before me in a crouching stance, with its subjects scurrying along the cryptic grounds below in hateful glee. The slight of its nefarious head showed its remarkable intellect while the oscillating flesh upon its frame peaked far from any aspect of hallowed animation. It was both smooth and rough, and beautiful and repulsive---it could not be conceived within one limit of appearance. Only the imagination of absurd and almighty necromancy could have conjured such supremacy of grotesqueness.
It beckoned me forth with a rigid power of temptation. As lightning to a rod, I lunged for the being, latching my incorporeal essence to its thick propaganda of incarnate filth. For a time, I gyred around it in an oblivion of passionate ecstasy, not even able to control my tendencies and urges; it was the thing which controlled me---my thoughts and my desires.
The most disturbing aspect of this demonic dance was the one thought beating to my archaic pulse. This thought, this whisper of lulling sanity breezing across my being went as such: this is not where I am supposed to be. Over and over again it played like a music box to my invisible ears: this is not where I am supposed to be, this is not where I am supposed to be. Never did that song cease during my time within the arms of evil’s spawn, but that song did, eventually, cease.
To recall the next moment as something real is doubtful---though I will always believe it if even as a fantasy---for true mercy beseeched me that damnation’s eve. While trapped in the tempest of obliteration, my savior came. He shown like a radiant jewel under mystified light. His wounds orchestrated the unbreakable deity of promise. As quickly as the darkness had engulfed, there was light, and with the light the darkness shriveled into a decay of echoing tribulation. The subjects and its master cursed in wicked spells and mighty enchantments, bellowing even until their souls singed as bright as stars. They chanted until their presences could bear no more pain, laughed, and then they were gone.
My savior’s hands cradled me from my withering demise, collecting me into the warmth of completeness. Before I was gone from that place, I heard his voice speak to my soul, like a Father to a Son, I will never let go.
Here is a short piece I wrote that I wanted some opinions on! I will be leaving for Greece tomorrow so I will have to look at what everyone thought when I get back next Sunday. Also, if you like what you read here, then you should definitely check out my short story podcast The Dark Verse---the link in my signature will take you there. Thanks!
The Unsought Galaxy
By Sharkchild
The darkness came quickly without retribution or purpose, with blind perfection it suffocated every last glimpse of light and memory. While I was once whole and complex, I was now vulgar and plain. I do not remember having a thought when the transition took place, nor do I remember any manifestation of sensation or feeling, but when I arose into the cosmos of the beyond, the picture of a demented dreamscape enthralled my existence.
With the darkness came new sight---a sight of which I reluctantly relinquish to the enlightenment of words. This sense of vision was nothing like a projection made by retina and pupil; it was a gift of divine repulsion, the provisional praxis of coming into anew. Relatively, in its most comparable description, it was like being in the bowls of the deepest and blackest abyss with a moon as an eye.
Profound nightmares and horrors swirled within my first glimpse of the nether world, the life beyond, the dark throne. On an altar masked with silk, an entity loomed before me in a crouching stance, with its subjects scurrying along the cryptic grounds below in hateful glee. The slight of its nefarious head showed its remarkable intellect while the oscillating flesh upon its frame peaked far from any aspect of hallowed animation. It was both smooth and rough, and beautiful and repulsive---it could not be conceived within one limit of appearance. Only the imagination of absurd and almighty necromancy could have conjured such supremacy of grotesqueness.
It beckoned me forth with a rigid power of temptation. As lightning to a rod, I lunged for the being, latching my incorporeal essence to its thick propaganda of incarnate filth. For a time, I gyred around it in an oblivion of passionate ecstasy, not even able to control my tendencies and urges; it was the thing which controlled me---my thoughts and my desires.
The most disturbing aspect of this demonic dance was the one thought beating to my archaic pulse. This thought, this whisper of lulling sanity breezing across my being went as such: this is not where I am supposed to be. Over and over again it played like a music box to my invisible ears: this is not where I am supposed to be, this is not where I am supposed to be. Never did that song cease during my time within the arms of evil’s spawn, but that song did, eventually, cease.
To recall the next moment as something real is doubtful---though I will always believe it if even as a fantasy---for true mercy beseeched me that damnation’s eve. While trapped in the tempest of obliteration, my savior came. He shown like a radiant jewel under mystified light. His wounds orchestrated the unbreakable deity of promise. As quickly as the darkness had engulfed, there was light, and with the light the darkness shriveled into a decay of echoing tribulation. The subjects and its master cursed in wicked spells and mighty enchantments, bellowing even until their souls singed as bright as stars. They chanted until their presences could bear no more pain, laughed, and then they were gone.
My savior’s hands cradled me from my withering demise, collecting me into the warmth of completeness. Before I was gone from that place, I heard his voice speak to my soul, like a Father to a Son, I will never let go.