I could see each side, then
The side that I had been fighting for
And the side in which I dreaded
I could see then, before my eyes
The way my fear of them was just a state
In which their own minds were rotten
And we were the same
We were the exact opposites
But we were disguised
And could never predict who the other was
Where did the time go, old friend?
When did our thoughts split?
Why is our hate so strong?
But even I know that
Our fight will go on
And I will kill you
Drown you
Like you'll do to me
But both of us know that
It's our reflections that we despise
And the way the other
Echoes our disturbing infliction
Our cruel love and hate
Our greatest fears and desire
Who we want to be
And who we despise
Everything I am not
But nothing I am
I hate you
I love you
You pathetic
Amazing, thing.
I'll kill you
I'll swallow you
Somewhere in my dreams.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Friday, May 3, 2013
Seven Devils
Paranoia
is what I have been labeled with, and how ironic it is that paranoia
is what led me to my final hour. One might think that the outcome of
their life is directly affected by what they believe in, and I have
to question myself, did I bring this terror to my own mind? Could it
have been avoidable if I had never thought about it in the first
place? Perhaps the world we wish to believe is the one we travel to
and are confronted with at the end of our lives. I suppose I won't
ever know, nor will you my dear reader, whoever you are.
Who
you are, however, is unimportant to my tale. You could have known me
and my feats, hated me, found this letter decades after I wrote it
when my name has turned to dust, but you will remember me after you
read this. All I want is for just one person to understand the
horrors that lurk within and outside of this realm. The horrors that
haunt me and that will slaughter me before this day is done.
See,
I was dead when I woke up this morning. Breathing, of course because
I'm writing this now, but dead, really. People are wrong about when
death occurs. It is not when we are torn from this fabric of reality,
but when we understand that we can no longer live. That we cannot
change, we cannot evolve further, we cannot advance. Death is when we
realize nothing we have made in our lifetime will matter to anyone
but ourselves and that it is gone when our soul is thrashed apart and
thrown into oblivion. Death is when one realizes that the past they
have created is nothing and that their future is inescapable, that we
really have no control at all.
My
first death was this morning when I woke up and they were standing
there, all seven of them. It was when I realized that there was
nothing I could do to stop it, that the gods- or lack thereof- had my
fate. They always had my fate.
My
breathing was ragged as I looked around my crowded room, my heart
smashing against my ribs so thunderously that I thought one of them
might reach into my chest just to yank out the noise. Instead, all of
them simply smirked at me with their gnarled lips and twisted sets of
teeth in the same instant. The dark room was silent as they stared at
me, some with blank bulging eyes, others with their pupil less ebony
pools, and one that stood in the back who had no eyes at all but
gouged out bloody holes that seemed to stretch into the black pits of
oblivion themselves.
Five
years ago there had been a prophet standing outside of the cathedral
as I walked by, ranting on about the church and evil, but when he had
saw me, he stopped in his tracks and barreled after me, howling a
prediction at me I have not since forgotten. It was a warning the old
man yelled at me, waving one of his frail fists in the air, one that
haunted me in my sleep but I had never taken action to prevent. I had
never been a religious man, it was all hubbub to me, besides, I was
busy. I am King Saden of the realm, I never had time for religion,
though now I see I should have made time. Now I see that the prophet
had been more than correct and that I was a fool to walk by. I can
still hear his words echoing in my head:
Repent,
oh wicked one. Pray to your gods and head their warning, for there is
evil in the world, and evil in the hearts. The rulers of the realm
are suspicious and weary, for what is done cannot be undone. With
power comes punishment, punishment that no mortal can induce. Repent,
oh wicked one!, for if you do not the gods of death will see to it
that all unbalance in the realm is restored. Seven devils, seven
devils they say. They will visit you on your final day. You will reap
what you sow and be turned into dust, for the innocence lost will be
returned in gold. Seven devils all around you, there will be. Seven
Devils you can prevent if you head my warning. Repent, oh wicked one
and learn from your ways! Or you shall die a death of the thousands
you killed, torment and blood. For it is the job of devils you wish
to complete, and it is the death by devils you shall receive!
The
words throbbed in my head as I stared into the faces of my fate, each
one pale and ugly as it stared back. Terror and panic, they come in
waves but what stays is the desperation. I sucked in a breath, still
frozen in place as I gripped the sheets on my bed.
"Wh-hat
do you want?" I blubbered out. What a fool. The one standing
closest to me, one so tall and thin that it's shoulders hunched
forward to the point where it's chest was in the same place as it's
belly, stepped forward. It's grin widened at me with the question,
it's cracked and discolored lips splitting open up to it's ears as
its sanguine colored eyes seemed to rip into my very soul.
"We've
come to burn your kingdom down."
I
couldn't stop the words that poured out of my mouth before they did,
garbling as the terrified moron I was. "W-why? What have I done
to deserve this?" I already knew what I had done, now with a
clear mind and accustomed to the situation- yes they are still here-
I know exactly what I had done with an abnormal clarity.
The
devil in front of me grinned wider, leaning in closer to me with a
creak of its old bones as its foul breath fanned across my face. It
smelled of rotting meat and must, like someone had forgotten a
skinned pig in the bottom of their cellar for weeks. "It is the
job of devils you have completed, and therefore it is the death of
devils that you shall receive." It's voice was hardly audible,
seeming to come from the creature's chest instead of it's throat,
jumbled and distorted as if it hadn't spoken for a thousand years.
Maybe it hadn't.
Fear
pricked my nerves once again, sending my heart into another frenzy of
thrumming and I wondered how much longer I had. I wondered what the
death of a devil meant, and how it was carried out. I wondered if
they meant what they said about burning my kingdom down, but most of
all I wondered who would get the gold the innocent souls I had taken
were meant to be repaid in.
A
sound like a ripping sheet of silk sounded in my chambers and it took
me a moment to realize the devil in front of me was.. chuckling?
I
felt my face go pale, the idiot muscle in my chest pounding even more
furiously. Could they hear my thoughts?
At
the thought the devil grinned so wide that it's face split into two,
the grin stretching up to it's twisted set of ears and exposing the
full length of it's needle like teeth. It's giant head dipped down
once, confirming my thoughts. I swallowed, the sheets constrained
around my body suddenly feeling very tight.
The
boy of only 12 looked from the torn letter to the devil in front of
him, the same one described in the very paper he held. He blinked
once, shifting his feet. "How long does this go on for? And do I
have to read it all?" The devil grinned back at him and shook
his head slowly.
"If
you do not wish. It is simply my duty to give the dying story of the
last fate holder to the new one. All you humans want to talk about
your horrible death in one last stance, even when you're already
dead." Another harsh chuckle and the boy looked down to the
letter with a sour expression. He was dirty, covered in soot from
head to toe. He wore beggar's clothes and had no shoes but bandages
bound around his feet to keep away the frostbite delivered by the
howling winds. He was not afraid of this messenger, or devil as the
King had called him. He wasn't afraid of much anymore, the harsh
winter and soldiers had taken his fear. He had lived through the
worst of the King's reign and survived. What was there left to be
afraid of?
The
boys eyes scanned further down the letter, for another two pages it
described the ruler's first encounter with the devils, describing
each one in awful detail and the boy shifted his weight again. He
didn't have the patience for the man he despised most's dying
cowardice. He looked up from the paper to the burning castle only a
few miles away. It lit up the sky with it's scorching inferno,
melting the snow in the kingdom and warming the clouds themselves
with the plumes of black smoke.
"You
will be the summer to the King's foul winter, young one." The
devil said with it's twisted smirk and the boy looked back at him
with an emotionless face.
"Is
he burning in there?" He asked in his rather flat tone. The
devil shook it's head once again.
"No,
he did not deserve a death as serene as that one." The boy
simply nodded, content with that fact but otherwise uninterested in
the details.
"What
am I supposed to do now?" The boy asked, staring at the sky as
it dropped ashes like snow to the ground. The devil leaned in close
to the boy's face then, practically doubled over because of it's
height.
"Everything."
He whispered, and the boy's skin rose with goosebumps though he would
deny it if anyone were to ask. "Avenge your family, make your
own way, little one. The kingdom is yours now, do with it what you
will. But-" the devil used one of it's twisted fingers to point
at the letter the boy clutched. "take note of that. It has been
your warning. The gods, the devils, we control your fate. Whether you
succeed or fail."
The
boy nodded, his fingers tearing the letter swiftly, letting the wind
pick up the pieces and scatter them with the ashes in the burning
kingdom that had belonged to Saden. The devil stretched back up,
watching the boy with it's bulging blank eyes.
We
have given you an advantage, young one. It is an advantage most
people choose to forget or dismiss. Do you not see that you are
already dead? You do not fear, and you have read the letter of the
last. You know that no matter what you do, you are not immortal. You
understand that even all the feats you accomplish now will be erased
sometime in the future. Everyone dies, little one, but we are giving
you the chance to live." The devil crossed it's lanky arms with
a snap, looking almost content with it's pale and twisted features.
The boy looked up to the thing with his still expressionless face.
"I
understand." He agreed, looking almost sad as he stared in the
distance. "I will remember you always. You have been a
true friend of mine." The devil let out a throaty cackle of
laughter.
"Do
not worry, young one, I will appear in many people in your lifetime.
I will be their lust, and anger. I will appear as their greed and
their sorrow. You will be tested as the last ruler of the mortals was
tested, see to it that you succeed, young one, humanity depends on
it. The gods and devils alike are rather un-amused with the mortal's
sense of arrogance. They will start over with a new set of mortals if
it is what they see is fit." The boy sucked in a breath hearing
these words, and he shifted his weight once again.
"I
will act as I see fit." The boy said with a nod and the devil
let out another splintering cackle. A rune the color of blood burned
into the floor of pine needles and dirt then, opening a fiery portal
that whipped the boy's dark hair around as the devil stepped toward
it.
“Something to
remember me by, boy.” The devil growled with a laugh, slashing the
boy's cheek open with one of it's sharp claws. The wound opened and
immediately festered, then burned and healed all within the same
instant leaving him with a raised scar that went from his eyes to the
corner of his mouth. The boy flinched, and before he could call out in
pain, the agony had already subsided.
“Oh I almost
forgot..” The devil brought out a small sack attached to it's belt
and threw it at the boy. “The King's debts repaid in full to you,
fate holder.” Another long cackle and the devil dissappeared with
the portal, sucked back into oblivion as the boy was doused in
darkness.
The boy leaned down
and picked up the sack, opening it's chord to reveal a small bottle
with a shimerring golden liquid and two handfuls of coins he had
never seen before. He closed the bad and sucked in another breath,
turning away from the burning kingdom's streets he once called home
and starting forward into the darkness of the unknown.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Letters
Addie-
They won't let me call you. The operators said that you had blocked your number- that you had specifically asked them to not connect you to anyone that tried to get through. Okay. I get that you don't want to talk to me, or at least I'm trying to. I wish you would have written me and told me that yourself. I shouldn't expect that from you, but I did. I thought you were dead, at first. I thought that the war had gotten over there and that- that maybe those bastards had snatched you up too. The thought of that, God, Addie it makes me sick to my stomach. You should've told me that you were done with me.. Instead I was left there, screaming into the pay phone while half the town is up in smoke. I thought that was going to be the last time I would ever be able to call you. They were so close, Addie. They took my whole squad and half the calvary. I was in the intensive care unit for a few days- which is how I got the time to write you. One of the slimy monsters got me with their poison probe. I was really sick, and all I could think about was your brown hair and those perfect emerald eyes. I love you. I love you more than anything, more than that old pickup truck back home I spent all my time on. More than every sunset I spent climbing up to the top of the mountain to watch. More than anything. Really. That doesn't mean much now, I know, but I figure you should hear it again because some how I feel like you're gonna speak to me again. Write me back. Maybe if I say it enough you'll understand. Maybe it'll seep down into your bones like it does into mine.
I can only imagine that you're not speaking to me because I was wrong. So god damn wrong Addie, I was. I'm admitting that to you now. Groveling to your feet in this letter because I wish I would have never come out here. I wish I could take it back. Playing War of the Worlds with real guns, it seemed so cool at the time. But I was just a kid, Addie! We were both just kids. How was I supposed to know the horrors? War, blood, death. It's everywhere and we don't even know what we're up against. I wish you would talk to me. To hear your voice one more time would mean the world to me. It's stupid, you know, that you aren't talking to me because I came out here. I know you didn't want me to go, to die out here, but I didn't think I would. It doesn't matter now, though.
They're sending more, the enemy that is. We're starting to understand their language, the bases are decoding it and feeding us the news. Soon they'll be swarming Earth. You won't be safe in America, or France, or Australia or any other place your parents have the money to ship you. Nobody will be safe. I guess you're one of the first ones to know this, whether you believe me or not- it hasn't made world news yet. They're trying to keep down the panic, keep everyone sane as long as possible. I don't really know why I'm telling you this, except to say that I wish I were with you. I wish we were spending the last few moments together instead of me out here in the cold dirt and slime wondering when it will be my turn to get harvested or split open from the mouth down. I know you're mad at me, in your eyes I left you. Abandoned you. But I didn't, Addie. I was trying to fight for you. I'm only out here fighting these god damned aliens because I wanted you to be safe. For us to have some chance at living a normal life together in the future, can't you see that?
They won't let me call you. The operators said that you had blocked your number- that you had specifically asked them to not connect you to anyone that tried to get through. Okay. I get that you don't want to talk to me, or at least I'm trying to. I wish you would have written me and told me that yourself. I shouldn't expect that from you, but I did. I thought you were dead, at first. I thought that the war had gotten over there and that- that maybe those bastards had snatched you up too. The thought of that, God, Addie it makes me sick to my stomach. You should've told me that you were done with me.. Instead I was left there, screaming into the pay phone while half the town is up in smoke. I thought that was going to be the last time I would ever be able to call you. They were so close, Addie. They took my whole squad and half the calvary. I was in the intensive care unit for a few days- which is how I got the time to write you. One of the slimy monsters got me with their poison probe. I was really sick, and all I could think about was your brown hair and those perfect emerald eyes. I love you. I love you more than anything, more than that old pickup truck back home I spent all my time on. More than every sunset I spent climbing up to the top of the mountain to watch. More than anything. Really. That doesn't mean much now, I know, but I figure you should hear it again because some how I feel like you're gonna speak to me again. Write me back. Maybe if I say it enough you'll understand. Maybe it'll seep down into your bones like it does into mine.
I can only imagine that you're not speaking to me because I was wrong. So god damn wrong Addie, I was. I'm admitting that to you now. Groveling to your feet in this letter because I wish I would have never come out here. I wish I could take it back. Playing War of the Worlds with real guns, it seemed so cool at the time. But I was just a kid, Addie! We were both just kids. How was I supposed to know the horrors? War, blood, death. It's everywhere and we don't even know what we're up against. I wish you would talk to me. To hear your voice one more time would mean the world to me. It's stupid, you know, that you aren't talking to me because I came out here. I know you didn't want me to go, to die out here, but I didn't think I would. It doesn't matter now, though.
They're sending more, the enemy that is. We're starting to understand their language, the bases are decoding it and feeding us the news. Soon they'll be swarming Earth. You won't be safe in America, or France, or Australia or any other place your parents have the money to ship you. Nobody will be safe. I guess you're one of the first ones to know this, whether you believe me or not- it hasn't made world news yet. They're trying to keep down the panic, keep everyone sane as long as possible. I don't really know why I'm telling you this, except to say that I wish I were with you. I wish we were spending the last few moments together instead of me out here in the cold dirt and slime wondering when it will be my turn to get harvested or split open from the mouth down. I know you're mad at me, in your eyes I left you. Abandoned you. But I didn't, Addie. I was trying to fight for you. I'm only out here fighting these god damned aliens because I wanted you to be safe. For us to have some chance at living a normal life together in the future, can't you see that?
I was wrong. Wrong
in so many ways. This is bigger than you, than me, than the whole
fucking planet. In the end, Addie, I guess I just wanted you to know
that I never stopped loving you, even after you seemed to dismiss me.
It hurts, but if I died to postpone the death of the world, fine. I
did it for you, whether you see it or not. I hope you'll find it in
your heart to write me back if you're safe, even if you don't love me
back. Just a simple “I'm fine,” would do. Well, I guess this is
your soldier signing off, Addison Reakley. I love you. I hope you
remember that.
Your fighting husband,
Jonathan Reakley
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Hollow Heart
This was it, he thought as we walked into the familiar parlor of his home, this is when life starts. He had been waiting for this moment almost his entire life. It had been a process, for everything has process, but he had been building up to this moment since the second she had said "I do." After trying for months, he knew there was something particularly special about this evening, he hoped it was the news he had been looking forward to for years.
There she was, sitting on the arm of her floral chair perched perfectly as if gravity did not affect her at all. Her pale blonde hair was stacked upon her head in ringlets, a few cascading down the side to gently whisper against her neck as the flames held in the grand fireplace flickered upon her ivory skin. She was, in fact, the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on and the truth that she would be forever his still stole his breath away. He opened his mouth to greet her, but before he could make a sound she was already speaking.
"There is stack of paperwork for you on the desk." She said smoothly, her eyes still not turned onto him. He hesitated, but floated toward the cherry wood surface anyways, his hands rifling through the pages.
The man looked sourly down at the papers after a moment, his eyes flicking to the woman who sat at the other end of the room. She wasn't looking at him but instead staring into the crackling fire with eyes burning as brightly as the flames themselves, her beautiful face expressionless. He could tell she was blocking him out, however, by the way her jaw clenched a little too tightly to be comfortable. His heart slammed into his chest by the sight of her, and he looked nervously back down to the papers.
His gray eyes raked over the ink scrawl quickly, his hands flinching and gathering perspiration as the words raced through his clouded mind. "What is this?" he finally said out loud, his voice slicing through the silence of the room like a sharpened blade though he had no intention to sound angry.
"Divorce papers." She said flatly without looking at him, her own voice carrying through the room like a soft melody. She had a way with speaking that drew him in on every word, as if every sentence was carefully crafted to caress his very soul. He blinked, putting the papers down with a stiff hand and pursed lips. No, this wasn't right. She could not possibly be divorcing him. She had every thing she could ever want, a perfect life with lots of jewelry and hand sewn corsets in whatever color she desired. She was the envy of the town, the woman with the perfect life and a loving husband-how on earth could this be true?
"If this is a joke-" The man started, with a shake of his head though he could feel his heart pound inside his chest and his mouth go dry.
"It isn't." She reassured in the same empty tone, this time turning her burning orange eyes to stare into him. "You know what little tolerance I have for games."
"A divorce?" He choked out, suddenly feeling very weak in the knees. "But-but why?" He stuttered under her gaze, feeling small and insignificant though he was the most cunning man in the city. Instead of responding, she simply looked back into the flames. The man felt bile push into his throat and he swallowed it back fiercely, clenching his own jaw. "What about our vows? Our love? The baby? I thought that's what you wanted- what we both wanted."
Her breathing skipped a beat but otherwise looked unaffected, her eyes turning to him once again in the fiery inferno he had fallen in love with in the beginning. "Vows are words. Love is a lie. But the baby.." A small and mocking smirk feathered to her lips. "I forgot to tell you that I'm pregnant."
"Then why are you doing this?" The man yelled, his heart slamming against his ribs achingly with her words.
"Because it isn't yours."
There she was, sitting on the arm of her floral chair perched perfectly as if gravity did not affect her at all. Her pale blonde hair was stacked upon her head in ringlets, a few cascading down the side to gently whisper against her neck as the flames held in the grand fireplace flickered upon her ivory skin. She was, in fact, the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on and the truth that she would be forever his still stole his breath away. He opened his mouth to greet her, but before he could make a sound she was already speaking.
"There is stack of paperwork for you on the desk." She said smoothly, her eyes still not turned onto him. He hesitated, but floated toward the cherry wood surface anyways, his hands rifling through the pages.
The man looked sourly down at the papers after a moment, his eyes flicking to the woman who sat at the other end of the room. She wasn't looking at him but instead staring into the crackling fire with eyes burning as brightly as the flames themselves, her beautiful face expressionless. He could tell she was blocking him out, however, by the way her jaw clenched a little too tightly to be comfortable. His heart slammed into his chest by the sight of her, and he looked nervously back down to the papers.
His gray eyes raked over the ink scrawl quickly, his hands flinching and gathering perspiration as the words raced through his clouded mind. "What is this?" he finally said out loud, his voice slicing through the silence of the room like a sharpened blade though he had no intention to sound angry.
"Divorce papers." She said flatly without looking at him, her own voice carrying through the room like a soft melody. She had a way with speaking that drew him in on every word, as if every sentence was carefully crafted to caress his very soul. He blinked, putting the papers down with a stiff hand and pursed lips. No, this wasn't right. She could not possibly be divorcing him. She had every thing she could ever want, a perfect life with lots of jewelry and hand sewn corsets in whatever color she desired. She was the envy of the town, the woman with the perfect life and a loving husband-how on earth could this be true?
"If this is a joke-" The man started, with a shake of his head though he could feel his heart pound inside his chest and his mouth go dry.
"It isn't." She reassured in the same empty tone, this time turning her burning orange eyes to stare into him. "You know what little tolerance I have for games."
"A divorce?" He choked out, suddenly feeling very weak in the knees. "But-but why?" He stuttered under her gaze, feeling small and insignificant though he was the most cunning man in the city. Instead of responding, she simply looked back into the flames. The man felt bile push into his throat and he swallowed it back fiercely, clenching his own jaw. "What about our vows? Our love? The baby? I thought that's what you wanted- what we both wanted."
Her breathing skipped a beat but otherwise looked unaffected, her eyes turning to him once again in the fiery inferno he had fallen in love with in the beginning. "Vows are words. Love is a lie. But the baby.." A small and mocking smirk feathered to her lips. "I forgot to tell you that I'm pregnant."
"Then why are you doing this?" The man yelled, his heart slamming against his ribs achingly with her words.
"Because it isn't yours."
Saturday, January 19, 2013
The Hands that Quiver
The skin was pale as it stretched thin over the whitened knuckles, hands folded together tight enough that fingerprints were being indented onto the skin in red blotchy patches. The fingers themselves were carved to perfection, strong and perfectly spaced, though the skin itself was tattered with scars. Some were rough and old, others an angry pink with the long process of healing. Fingernails on a hand are never to be ignored, they tell much about a person and what their personality is like. These ones are unpainted and rugged, the edges of them look to be torn off or chewed on, but definitely not well manicured. There are white spots in the wide fingernails, their color standing out awkwardly against the fingers reddened with force. A sign of calcium deficiency, no doubt. Or maybe there's been serious trauma?
The hands move-separating- one moves to a sleeve made of red wool and yanks it down with a tremble that jerks the smooth motion ever so slightly. The fluorescent light that cascades down on the skin light up multiple marks, thin and shallow they look to heal quickly, but where did they come from? The hands open wide to their beholder, palms visible and unscathed besides the thin sheet of sweat that quickly gets wiped off onto the pair of dark blue jeans. The ten fingers on the hands twitch and spasm with their own life, the jittery landscape would make a terrible home for a pencil or even a paintbrush, but as they fold together again toned muscles seem to flex with the motion. Perhaps lack of skill is made up with strength. A long moment passes as the hands grip each other as if for dear life, the knuckles turning bone white with their one force turned against them as they rest against the blue denim.
Suddenly the hands move, splitting apart again only this time much more quickly as they slide rhythmically over the jean material. Wiping off the rest of the sweat, the hands are in motion, moving upward now with purpose and another tremble though it's a different kind. They move swiftly and gingerly as they caress what's handed to them, a blue blanket that feels softer than any material they've ever touched before, though it's not the blanket that causes the shiver to run a wave of goosebumps up the arms. No, it's the hand 6 times smaller than the ones that cradle the filled blanket that stirs the reaction, as it calmly falls onto the pale and scarred skin. It's what those worked hands had been waiting to hold their whole life.
The hands move-separating- one moves to a sleeve made of red wool and yanks it down with a tremble that jerks the smooth motion ever so slightly. The fluorescent light that cascades down on the skin light up multiple marks, thin and shallow they look to heal quickly, but where did they come from? The hands open wide to their beholder, palms visible and unscathed besides the thin sheet of sweat that quickly gets wiped off onto the pair of dark blue jeans. The ten fingers on the hands twitch and spasm with their own life, the jittery landscape would make a terrible home for a pencil or even a paintbrush, but as they fold together again toned muscles seem to flex with the motion. Perhaps lack of skill is made up with strength. A long moment passes as the hands grip each other as if for dear life, the knuckles turning bone white with their one force turned against them as they rest against the blue denim.
Suddenly the hands move, splitting apart again only this time much more quickly as they slide rhythmically over the jean material. Wiping off the rest of the sweat, the hands are in motion, moving upward now with purpose and another tremble though it's a different kind. They move swiftly and gingerly as they caress what's handed to them, a blue blanket that feels softer than any material they've ever touched before, though it's not the blanket that causes the shiver to run a wave of goosebumps up the arms. No, it's the hand 6 times smaller than the ones that cradle the filled blanket that stirs the reaction, as it calmly falls onto the pale and scarred skin. It's what those worked hands had been waiting to hold their whole life.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Interrogation
Flickered intervals of black and vibrant colors were echoing through Iznora's mind as her head lolled to the side. At first it was just blurbs of blurry images, slowly shifting until they became violent memories pulsing like reality behind her eyes.
Iznora sucked in a ragged breath, the air hot and sticky with dirt as it coated the inside of her throat and scraped down her tongue. She couldn't remember the last time she had any water and could practically feel the hydration escaping through her pores as it dripped out in effort to cool her sun-burnt and blistered blue skin. Another hot breath. This time she tried to move, stretching her limbs curiously when white hot pain lashed up her side and her wrists twisted within the chains that held her arms spread wide. Iznora's crimson eyes flashed open, only to be vexed by the course fabric of a burlap sack scraping against her eyebrows. Her head whirled as she tried to remember what had happened, the corners of her thoughts smudged and slowed almost to a halt. Tatooine, she could feel that much. The fabric ripped off of her head with a hard pull, yanking some of her dark blue hair as her head was thrust roughly to the side. She gasped in surprise at the pain, her vision flashing and melting into something new as she blinked away the sudden movement.
The colors were opposite of the bright hot planet she could have sworn she was just in, consisting of a dull blue and fading purples that could be caught dragging across the floor. She blinked as she tried to focus, her vision wandering and hazy as she looked at the man that was smirking wildly at her. The world was spinning as Iznora's drugged mind tried to grasp reality, the man's Rattataki face flickering in and out with the face of the man who had captured her 6 years ago on Tatooine. She sucked in a breath, trying to steady her vision but the sudden intake of fresh air only made her head whirl, lolling it to the side again. The man grabbed Iznora by her jaw, focusing her brilliant red eyes on him with force. She felt the urge to spit on him, perhaps even say something clever but her body seemed to be unattached from her mind, trapped inside her groggy thoughts.
"They smoked you out good, didn't they beautiful?" The man said in a gruff voice, his smirk widening to expose his filthy crooked teeth. "You can hardly even keep your eyes open." Damn it, where were her muscles? She couldn't even focus on where she was, whether she was sitting or strung up somewhere. Her lip quivered as she tried to speak, her eyes rolling while her mind raced to try and remember why she was even here... The man let out a dry chuckle as he let her chin go, turning to the side and calling for water to someone that Iznora couldn't see. It seemed like an hour's worth of time before the man's tattooed face turned back to her, his grin even more devilish as he cast what was in his hand at her. She should have known it was water, but it didn't register until after the cloud of freezing cold needles pierced through the groggy fog and slapped her in the face.
Everything whirled for a moment, before reality bashed into the side of her skull like a brick, bringing back every memory in perfect clarity and dispersing the dream like state almost entirely. The man let out a rough laugh at her reaction, the pattern of his tattoos no longer a blur but a cruel and intricate pattern, his dull gray eyes licking with mild amusement. "What do you want?" Iznora spat, hiding her accent with ease. The Rattataki stood up straight, smirking as his large figure shadowed over her.
"We already have what we want, precious. But you seem to be carrying a bit more on your ship than we thought." He leaned down to where she was tied to a chair, his foul breath fanning over her face. "The spice we were after didn't seem to match all the other code blocked secrets you have hidden in that small little thing." Iznora stared at the man, unblinking.
"I don't know what you're talking about." she said flatly, her breathing even and jaw set. The man let out a humorless laugh, snatching up her jaw in one of his rough hands once again only to squeeze more fiercely than the time before.
"This would be a lot easier with your cooperation, sweetheart." he growled with a vicious smile. "But we have ways of making you talk if you don't." Iznora flinched, speeding up her breathing and blinking rapidly to show signs of fear.
"Okay, okay!" she said quickly, squirming in his grasp, "I'll tell you what I know- just, you can't hurt me." The man simply smirked without letting go of his grasp. "Okay so, the spice..That's the only reason I was on the ship. I'm a smuggler- a new one. The Syndicate picked me out because I didn't have anyone tracking me. They thought I was a clean slate. I don't know anything else about the ship.." The man seemed to ponder that for a moment, until his smirk got wider, his head shaking in mock disappointment.
"Wrong answer." he whispered, cutting the sentence off with a cackle as he grabbed the back of her chair, tipping it over to drag it behind him.
"No! No! I'm telling the truth!" she screamed, her eyes darting around the empty room for anything at all. The walls were made out of concrete and scrap metal, the only thing that seemed to gnaw at her memory were the dancing lights that flickered through the crack between the walls and floor. Iznora would have recognized those lights anywhere, along with the hum of speeders as they passed quietly outside. Nar Shaddaa. "Please, in the name of the Hutts don't hurt me!" she screamed, tears running down her face.
"It's actually in the name of the Hutts that I'm going to." He said with a chuckle, "Besides, your little Twi'lek friend told me everything."
Iznora sucked in a ragged breath, the air hot and sticky with dirt as it coated the inside of her throat and scraped down her tongue. She couldn't remember the last time she had any water and could practically feel the hydration escaping through her pores as it dripped out in effort to cool her sun-burnt and blistered blue skin. Another hot breath. This time she tried to move, stretching her limbs curiously when white hot pain lashed up her side and her wrists twisted within the chains that held her arms spread wide. Iznora's crimson eyes flashed open, only to be vexed by the course fabric of a burlap sack scraping against her eyebrows. Her head whirled as she tried to remember what had happened, the corners of her thoughts smudged and slowed almost to a halt. Tatooine, she could feel that much. The fabric ripped off of her head with a hard pull, yanking some of her dark blue hair as her head was thrust roughly to the side. She gasped in surprise at the pain, her vision flashing and melting into something new as she blinked away the sudden movement.
The colors were opposite of the bright hot planet she could have sworn she was just in, consisting of a dull blue and fading purples that could be caught dragging across the floor. She blinked as she tried to focus, her vision wandering and hazy as she looked at the man that was smirking wildly at her. The world was spinning as Iznora's drugged mind tried to grasp reality, the man's Rattataki face flickering in and out with the face of the man who had captured her 6 years ago on Tatooine. She sucked in a breath, trying to steady her vision but the sudden intake of fresh air only made her head whirl, lolling it to the side again. The man grabbed Iznora by her jaw, focusing her brilliant red eyes on him with force. She felt the urge to spit on him, perhaps even say something clever but her body seemed to be unattached from her mind, trapped inside her groggy thoughts.
"They smoked you out good, didn't they beautiful?" The man said in a gruff voice, his smirk widening to expose his filthy crooked teeth. "You can hardly even keep your eyes open." Damn it, where were her muscles? She couldn't even focus on where she was, whether she was sitting or strung up somewhere. Her lip quivered as she tried to speak, her eyes rolling while her mind raced to try and remember why she was even here... The man let out a dry chuckle as he let her chin go, turning to the side and calling for water to someone that Iznora couldn't see. It seemed like an hour's worth of time before the man's tattooed face turned back to her, his grin even more devilish as he cast what was in his hand at her. She should have known it was water, but it didn't register until after the cloud of freezing cold needles pierced through the groggy fog and slapped her in the face.
Everything whirled for a moment, before reality bashed into the side of her skull like a brick, bringing back every memory in perfect clarity and dispersing the dream like state almost entirely. The man let out a rough laugh at her reaction, the pattern of his tattoos no longer a blur but a cruel and intricate pattern, his dull gray eyes licking with mild amusement. "What do you want?" Iznora spat, hiding her accent with ease. The Rattataki stood up straight, smirking as his large figure shadowed over her.
"We already have what we want, precious. But you seem to be carrying a bit more on your ship than we thought." He leaned down to where she was tied to a chair, his foul breath fanning over her face. "The spice we were after didn't seem to match all the other code blocked secrets you have hidden in that small little thing." Iznora stared at the man, unblinking.
"I don't know what you're talking about." she said flatly, her breathing even and jaw set. The man let out a humorless laugh, snatching up her jaw in one of his rough hands once again only to squeeze more fiercely than the time before.
"This would be a lot easier with your cooperation, sweetheart." he growled with a vicious smile. "But we have ways of making you talk if you don't." Iznora flinched, speeding up her breathing and blinking rapidly to show signs of fear.
"Okay, okay!" she said quickly, squirming in his grasp, "I'll tell you what I know- just, you can't hurt me." The man simply smirked without letting go of his grasp. "Okay so, the spice..That's the only reason I was on the ship. I'm a smuggler- a new one. The Syndicate picked me out because I didn't have anyone tracking me. They thought I was a clean slate. I don't know anything else about the ship.." The man seemed to ponder that for a moment, until his smirk got wider, his head shaking in mock disappointment.
"Wrong answer." he whispered, cutting the sentence off with a cackle as he grabbed the back of her chair, tipping it over to drag it behind him.
"No! No! I'm telling the truth!" she screamed, her eyes darting around the empty room for anything at all. The walls were made out of concrete and scrap metal, the only thing that seemed to gnaw at her memory were the dancing lights that flickered through the crack between the walls and floor. Iznora would have recognized those lights anywhere, along with the hum of speeders as they passed quietly outside. Nar Shaddaa. "Please, in the name of the Hutts don't hurt me!" she screamed, tears running down her face.
"It's actually in the name of the Hutts that I'm going to." He said with a chuckle, "Besides, your little Twi'lek friend told me everything."
The Hijack
Iznora ground her teeth together in decision as she looked between the two men on her ship, one of her blue hands roughly wrapped around the Twi'lek's wrists as she thrusted him into a seat. The ship's dashboard beeped desperately in warning, getting shriller as the danger seemed to get more and more real. She ignored it easily, her mind working in it's usual mechanical matter, she had been trained for situations like this, it would not get the best of her. Anger licked at the base of her thoughts, hot and violent, but it only sped up the thought process. Warning: Impact Imminent. Warning: Communications have been tapped, the robotic voice of the woman crowed over the speaker as the danger lights danced across the metallic paint inside of the cockpit.
This was the instant where Iznora's two very different lives would mingle for the last time, the heartbeat of the Syndicate would not be stifled and tangled with the mess that was Imperial Intelligence once again. Her bright crimson eyes flicked to the front window where she could see the Hutt Cartel's ships advancing more quickly than what any sane person could be comfortable with. Of course they were the Hutt's ships, identifiable simply because of the work she had done inside the slimy species' immoral industry, but they weren't after her precious cargo. They were after the few crates of special production spice she had hidden in the back for the Tretarkii Syndicate, not the Twi'lek she wouldn't mind choking to death at this very instant. Iznora looked to Baldarek, the Chiss she had grown more than fond of, and knew that he would understand what she was doing as soon as she executed it.
Lies, it would all be lies, of course. The Hutts were ignorant and obtuse to say the least, they would take whatever lead she would feed them, and that would buy her time. All she needed was some time.."Baldarek, do you hear that? We've got company." she said loudly, her feminine voice dominant and clear, ringing against the mechanical beeping and shrilling like a bell in the night. "You better take the escape pod and get the hell out of here before they find out that you're Intelligence. We both know the slimy bastards wouldn't know what to do with your information if they found it." Baldarek paused for only half a moment as the words ran through his thoughts, blinking once before nodding sharply and rising hastily from his seat. A single look was exchanged between the two before he disappeared into the back of the 'Aphelion', the kind of glance that was heavy and swollen with promise. The promise that the two would meet again, no doubt. Iznora would be damned to lose the only thing she had grown close to in the last 8 years of her life, she simply wouldn't allow it. No matter what happened, they would embrace again.
"There's an escape pod for me too, right?" the Twi'lek's voice was raw with emotion, and even though the man had been through a lot in the last few hours, Iznora found it pathetic. She ignored the man's alarm, grinding her teeth together in animosity as she reached to the dashboard, smashing her fist into the controls violently. With a slight electric rush, the control lights went dark, leaving only the shrill warning sirens to scream of the danger that was approaching even more rapidly now. At least now the Hutt's wouldn't be able to hear them.
Iznora turned to the Twi'lek, her red eyes burning with fury as she violently grabbed each one of the man's lekku, letting her blue fingers curl with force. The blue skinned alien let out a cry of pain, wincing as he looked into her dangerously resentful eyes. "Now you listen to me, Republic scum," she growled, her face only inches from the one called Jaaht'o, "You are going to do every little thing I say without a flaw. Do you know why?" The Twi'lek shook his head gingerly in her grasp, careful not to increase the pressure on the long appendages that extended out of his head. "Because if you don't, and you decide to tell those glutinous fat slugs about the information I need, I'm going to kill you. I will take these cute little lekku of yours," she squeezed a little harder at these words, "and cut them off tiny piece by piece until you're in such pain, you're begging for it. Do you understand?" Jaaht'o swallowed, nodding through his wince. "That's what I thought." she said with a nod almost to herself as she let go of him and stepped back. "Don't think for half a second that I won't, because as soon as I get out of this mess, I will track you down and see to it that you have never been in so much agony in your whole miserable life. And that's only if the Hutt's don't do it themselves."
"What happens if I don't tell the Hutts? You hand me over to Intelligence and then the same thing happens after I tell them?" the Twi'lek asked after a moment of reassurance that his tentacles were still intact and not damaged. Iznora let out a small sigh of comfort as she heard the escape pod dislodge from it's holding place on the ship, at least Baldarek had made it out. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a section of the Cartel's ships fly after it, the others continuing to rush at her head on.
"Tell you what, Jaaht'o," Iznora's voice was much more alluring now, though it still had the undertones of hatred and chagrin, "If you don't tell the Hutts, I will personally see to it that you are not harmed or disturbed by Imperial Intelligence ever again. And I'll get you out of the Hutt's grubby mitts. Fair enough?" As she spoke she fished a small shiv out from her pocket and cut through the bindings on the man's wrists in one smooth motion. At the exact moment that the female Chiss finished her words, one of the Hutt's ships crashed into the side of the Aphelion with a loud and raking thud. Iznora clenched her teeth once again, removing her blaster rifle from where it rested on her hip.
This was the instant where Iznora's two very different lives would mingle for the last time, the heartbeat of the Syndicate would not be stifled and tangled with the mess that was Imperial Intelligence once again. Her bright crimson eyes flicked to the front window where she could see the Hutt Cartel's ships advancing more quickly than what any sane person could be comfortable with. Of course they were the Hutt's ships, identifiable simply because of the work she had done inside the slimy species' immoral industry, but they weren't after her precious cargo. They were after the few crates of special production spice she had hidden in the back for the Tretarkii Syndicate, not the Twi'lek she wouldn't mind choking to death at this very instant. Iznora looked to Baldarek, the Chiss she had grown more than fond of, and knew that he would understand what she was doing as soon as she executed it.
Lies, it would all be lies, of course. The Hutts were ignorant and obtuse to say the least, they would take whatever lead she would feed them, and that would buy her time. All she needed was some time.."Baldarek, do you hear that? We've got company." she said loudly, her feminine voice dominant and clear, ringing against the mechanical beeping and shrilling like a bell in the night. "You better take the escape pod and get the hell out of here before they find out that you're Intelligence. We both know the slimy bastards wouldn't know what to do with your information if they found it." Baldarek paused for only half a moment as the words ran through his thoughts, blinking once before nodding sharply and rising hastily from his seat. A single look was exchanged between the two before he disappeared into the back of the 'Aphelion', the kind of glance that was heavy and swollen with promise. The promise that the two would meet again, no doubt. Iznora would be damned to lose the only thing she had grown close to in the last 8 years of her life, she simply wouldn't allow it. No matter what happened, they would embrace again.
"There's an escape pod for me too, right?" the Twi'lek's voice was raw with emotion, and even though the man had been through a lot in the last few hours, Iznora found it pathetic. She ignored the man's alarm, grinding her teeth together in animosity as she reached to the dashboard, smashing her fist into the controls violently. With a slight electric rush, the control lights went dark, leaving only the shrill warning sirens to scream of the danger that was approaching even more rapidly now. At least now the Hutt's wouldn't be able to hear them.
Iznora turned to the Twi'lek, her red eyes burning with fury as she violently grabbed each one of the man's lekku, letting her blue fingers curl with force. The blue skinned alien let out a cry of pain, wincing as he looked into her dangerously resentful eyes. "Now you listen to me, Republic scum," she growled, her face only inches from the one called Jaaht'o, "You are going to do every little thing I say without a flaw. Do you know why?" The Twi'lek shook his head gingerly in her grasp, careful not to increase the pressure on the long appendages that extended out of his head. "Because if you don't, and you decide to tell those glutinous fat slugs about the information I need, I'm going to kill you. I will take these cute little lekku of yours," she squeezed a little harder at these words, "and cut them off tiny piece by piece until you're in such pain, you're begging for it. Do you understand?" Jaaht'o swallowed, nodding through his wince. "That's what I thought." she said with a nod almost to herself as she let go of him and stepped back. "Don't think for half a second that I won't, because as soon as I get out of this mess, I will track you down and see to it that you have never been in so much agony in your whole miserable life. And that's only if the Hutt's don't do it themselves."
"What happens if I don't tell the Hutts? You hand me over to Intelligence and then the same thing happens after I tell them?" the Twi'lek asked after a moment of reassurance that his tentacles were still intact and not damaged. Iznora let out a small sigh of comfort as she heard the escape pod dislodge from it's holding place on the ship, at least Baldarek had made it out. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a section of the Cartel's ships fly after it, the others continuing to rush at her head on.
"Tell you what, Jaaht'o," Iznora's voice was much more alluring now, though it still had the undertones of hatred and chagrin, "If you don't tell the Hutts, I will personally see to it that you are not harmed or disturbed by Imperial Intelligence ever again. And I'll get you out of the Hutt's grubby mitts. Fair enough?" As she spoke she fished a small shiv out from her pocket and cut through the bindings on the man's wrists in one smooth motion. At the exact moment that the female Chiss finished her words, one of the Hutt's ships crashed into the side of the Aphelion with a loud and raking thud. Iznora clenched her teeth once again, removing her blaster rifle from where it rested on her hip.
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