Alzorath

A piece of loose canvas in the corner exudes a low groan and yawn and begins curling and contorting, a moment later Alzorath's head pops out from under a corner. Without moving his head he scans the room with his half open eyes, a small bit of spittle and paint resting in his beard... "ughnnn...I thought the renovators weren't supposed to come until Thursday..." Alzorath blinks still half asleep, following the statement with anpther over exaggerated yawn, not quite realizing what's going on in his studio. Alzorath scratches a few of the specks of paint out of his beard while he continues surveying the damage, overgrown geld hungry lizard, and a camera crew with obvious interns. He yawns and mumbles out, "at least it won't cost as much to repair as when Rydia got a hold of those giant pixie sticks a few months ago," and quickly curls back up under his canvas grumbling, "just don't set fire to anything, that turpentine is flammable."

These 2 short stories are entirely fiction, in that they have never existed in real life, never been part of someone's existence to my knowledge. These are though 2 dreams I had as a child (recurring from the age of about 7 to 12 years of age, and I am now 25), and will never forget their impact on my life - however I feel that I wish to express them to ensure that my memory of them never fades or fogs over time. I also want to practice my utilization of words to better craft imagery in the mind of the reader. Others are invited to share memories of dreams they've had that impacted them as well... critique as well is welcome (although as many IRC active pennites know, writing is not my artistic priority - it is still something that interests me) --------------------------------------------------------------- Story 1: The Dark Labyrinth I stand before the crumbling remains of an ancient ruin, the wind slowly creeping across the sparsely clinging strands of grass at my feet. I stare at a decaying wooden gate held up by two towering stone obelisks, upon which rest the twisted forms of gargoyles whose piercing gaze seems to cut into my very soul. I know where I am, though I know not the name. I feel the temptation I felt every night before, the temptation to open that gate, which I know leads to the very bowels of my own personal hell. This night I cannot resist, my hand slowly falls to rest on the cold rusty iron handle of the gate. Almost instantly I find myself standing in the middle of the all too familiar ruins of the labyrinth - the wooden gate through which I entered is nowhere to be found. I know I must escape, I know I must find my way to the entrance of this dark puzzle, I know that I never will find my way out. As with every night I charge through the labyrinth, quickly remembering the paths I've traveled before, and trying to avoid them. Through the open roofed corridors of decaying stone walls I run, left, right, left, straight, through a courtyard, past a fountain. No matter what route I take I always end up at the same point, standing before that old rod iron gate beneath the archway - unable to see beyond the dark seeping fog behind its rusted bars, yet unable to turn away. There is nowhere else for me to go, the lures overwhelm me, I must open the gate, there is no other path for me to take. I place my hand on the latch and instantly the black fog lifts. Revealed to me is an ancient graveyard, the tombs of untold numbers of evil souls lay before me - their dark energies quickly reaching into me, paralyzing every muscle in my body, and all I can do is stand and watch. From the distance I feel the deadly chill of something far worse than any one soul could create, a flash of red consumes my vision, a dark laughter stabs at my heart, then I awaken - alone, in the darkness of my room, a cold sweat dripping down my flesh. I am grateful however - I survived another night in the dark labyrinth. --------------------------------------------------------------- Story 2: Peace and Beauty I fall asleep, and when I awaken I find myself standing in the void surrounded by darkness. I look around, trying to figure out what is around me, and in the distance I spot a pale blue-violet rectangle of light - a doorway. I calmly walk to the light, unable to see anything inside from the distance except the glow of the light. As I near the doorway the form of a woman seated on a small stone bench slowly takes shape. As I enter the doorway, the room suddenly shifts into focus, and the image of the room permanently seers into my mind. Opposite of the door, a plethora of hanging sheets of blue and pale violet crystal dangle from silver chains attached to a plain flat ceiling, almost seeming to emit their own light, and beyond them the void expands indefinitely. In the room sits a solitary stone bench, midway between the door and the crystal wall. This bench, simple in design, consisting of two rectangular legs, and a long rectangular seating surface, is adorned with intricate carvings of the symbols of nature and life. On this stone bench, sits an enchantingly beautiful woman with her back turned to me - her skin a soft milky color and brown wavy hair that flows down to the middle of her back. Her form, which is beautifully enhanced by its human imperfections was adorned simply with a regal violet cloth that was draped across her legs and wrapped around off the back of the bench. As I stare amazed at the vision before me, the room suddenly becomes fuzzy again and I'm engulfed by the feeling of peace as the room seems to blur out of existence. When my senses return to me, I am curled up on the bench, my head resting on the velvety soft cloth as the woman's hand rest on my head, slowly stroking my hair. The feeling of peace and serenity becomes complete in her hands and I feel as though I have been allowed the ultimate freedom and happiness for my life. I let myself drift off into sleep and remember none of my dreams after that point in the night. That morning I awaken, slow and calmly to the morning dawn peering through my window. I miss the peacefulness of the dream, yet am thankful for it. My only hope at that point is that I can possibly return to that dreamland again that night.

As the man charged for the front door, he tripped and fell on the hamsters. A high piched squeel echoes through the house. As the man rolls off of the hamsters the elder of the two rodents squeeked something with his last breath. "The reason we came to this world is to save...

A chibi-Wyvern (sorry, hawaiian patterns aren't my strong point - so hope you like teal heh, it's silk though )

The burning city crackled all around them like crumbling horror, "We will get our revenge." - As the three wandered off, death could see the day it would cover the world come, and followed closely behind them. To the dismay of the world, those who wished to save it - destroyed it. Exactly 50 words...not easy at all... I really wanted to use more detail but couldn't .

Hmm....all depends on how you think about it... Religiously - they're fighting for what they feel has been promised to them, what they were chosen to be part of. Philosophically - I'd say that they're fighting for a land that was once of promise, but now is of decay due to the greed and stryfe of those who choose to fight over it. - the promised land isn't the ground you stand on, it's the soul you harvest. Atheistically (non-religion) - it was a once fertile land now barren with no real economic value, although it's location could be considered somewhat strategic militarily, not so great as to fight such a vicious war over. ------- Those are my views. (I'm spiritual, but non religious, and I think the fighting is rediculous and mainly just a small group of fanatics on each side ruining it for the majority of the populous).

I'm just messing around on there too heh......on blitz I killed like 700 of a guy's treants in 2 hits - with about 100k wisps (and only got MB through once ). Wonder what I should play with next......

I wouldn't really associate it as much with things like "nearsightedness" or continually degrading stuff.... From my experience it's more along the lines of arthritis/chronic migranes/etc. some days it's better some days it's worse. (and the thing I put at the end of my last post = basically what I tell myself to keep myself going - a good friend of mine told me something similar and I kinda adopted it)

Yup...i'm playing...and I think you hit me on Beta Loki...once heh. don't remember if you won or not *shrug* Hope ya have fun

Hmm... I don't get a lot of chances to read the forums - so it took me a while to catch up on this thread heh... Well, first my experiences with this topic - I started having the signs of depression a bit before my early teens (around 10-12 years of age). I did not have any reasons to be depressed, nor do I feel I do now - at least not any reasons that would make an logical sense. When I was in 7th grade, I was diagnosed with clinical depression - and told to take some little blue pills (don't remember their name) - they didn't work very well, and thus I quit taking them after a few months (why pump your body full of something that is serving no purpose). I have found over time that while I do feel depressed 90% of the time, it isn't something that can just be "gotten over" or that you can just work through a given situation to resolve it. Some days it's a burden to get out of bed, or to just take the next physical step - sometimes it would feel better to just give up and stop right there. Other days the burden is lighter, and I can usually at least feign a pleasant attitude to those around me. Through this, I have learned there are differences between sadness, vulnerability, depression, weakness, etc. I think what's being discussed mainly here is mainly things ranging from sadness to reactions to traumatic experiences (which while can still be called depression, can take multiple routes and is dealt with differently from what I can tell). Depression itself - the illness - is something many people have to live with, current medication may be a way, although it is considered only semi-successful. Some people do just have to "deal with it" - I know I have for the past 10 or so years, I know I'll last another 10 or so years... you just have to know yourself well enough that you can tell yourself "just keep going, it's all in your head, you'll feel at least a little better in a few days." I've stared death in the face, I've had all the opportunities to "give up" - but I don't, because I have things that keep me here. One of those is the belief that ANYTHING can be done with sheer willpower, and I make it my personal goal to prove that at the very least to myself. If you can resist the urge when you see the chance to just be free of it all - you can make it. Sorry...I'm rambling now. Basically - There are types of depression, some you can "get over" or find a resolution to, some you can't. All you can do is keep moving forward, get up in the morning, force yourself to take that next step instead of just stopping there and letting go. If you see a way to overcome the feeling, go for it - if you don't, then learn to adapt - you have so much to give the world, even with these emotions tearing at the inside of your heart and mind.

sorry for not posting earlier - but this story is on hold until I am able to complete the backlog on other projects, I will try to resume asap.

Story 3 - Control "Death, life, they are nothing, our nothings, our toys, our tools... yet this child confuses me... his string is one that I cannot alter, no matter how I try it always returns to its former path - any suggestions sister?" "None, even with the previous silver stringed children we had some control...but this one is different, it's as if there is another force beyond us acting upon this boy..." A third woman steps forth from the shadows, "These circumstances make me uneasy my sisters...something has not been right with the mortal strings for some time... we have been slowly losing our control of our duty, to something of which I know not..." Turning to face their sister the younger two fates ask in unison "Has this ever happened before sister?" "No...not in my existence...but I have heard stories from those before us...That our children, the beings of this world, are able to drift...destined to break free from destiny itself... but it is too soon, it wasn't supposed to happen for many, many more years... something unnatural must be changing these prophecies... something outside of destiny itself, the source of these silver strings must be stopped..." With that the eldest of the fates returns back to her chambers to think, not knowing, that in the shadows, just beyond her vision, sits that which is disturbing her so... "There is nothing you can do to change this...not even you the mighty fates," A dark, echoing voice resonates in the mind of the eldest fate,"you will not succeed at stopping this..."

Story 2 - The Dream A young child leaps among the dusty hills on the edge of the southern plains, wind sweeping around him as he snatches at yet another butterfly. A soft voice beckons from a nearby hut "Kashim, come in, it's time for dinner" The child looks up, dust powdered on his cheeks and hair "Coming mother," the young Kashim almost sings as he turns to run to the hut. Racing to the hut Kashim seems to fly as if light as a feather A blood curtling screem echoes from the hills as if from hell itself. Kashim whips around to a sky turned blacker than the blackest night, fear pulsing through his veins. As the sky turns even blacker, Kashim turns to run towards his hunt, only see a great pillar of fire where it once stood, and devils flying from the flames. "MOTHER!!!!" A flash of light rips into the childs world as he awakens in a cold sweat, heart racing, eyes wide... Kashim's mother rushes to the room, "Kashim, are you ok?" Looking around the child realizes that it was just a dream, a terrible, terrible dream.. "Yes mother... it was just a dream" Tucking the child in his mother looks back before walking from the room, "Sleep tight, and don't worry, your father and I won't let anything happen." Curling up under his covers the child whispers, "Good night mother..."

"WHY ARE WE HERE!!!???" The silence pierces through all time and space even as the resonating echo of the tortured screams of man engulfed by his nightmares blast through the air "WHY MUST WE LIVE THIS WAY!!!???... Why...why... Why can't I just find peace, find my soul...the soul I lost so long ago..." The once proud man, now a shell of his former self, collapses to the ground in a heap of flesh, shifting to the sounds of fear and pain pouring forth from him as if a well deep in his soul had burst forth and made itself known to the world Tears flowing from his face, the man stands up and glares across the darkened fields as shadows danced like the incubi of his dreams. In a whisper he murmers"Where am I supposed to go...what am I suppposed to do... Is there some reason why I can't find it...why I can't find what I am looking for..." Slowly, as if being pushed by some unseen force, the man drags forward, a great weight seemingly tearing him downward inside and out. The shadows dance around him, seeming in themselves to be repulsed by the nightmares this man endures... "..." The man suddenly stops and peers across the plains, the wind flowing across him, dust spinning around him as if the devil's claw were trying to grasp what is left of his battered soul. "Why do you come for me, why do you toy with me so...SHOW YOURSELF!!!" Spinning around as if to face his pursuer the man stares in what seems to be a mix of disappointment, and the most deep seeded fear anyone could possess. The winds die down, and the dust settles, the traveler continues to stare. "Why must I live this way..." Tired, afraid, weakened by the constant fear...the man collapses to his knees once again, the darkness growing ever closer. He knows his fate, and lets it enter, as the wind picks up again, the dust engulfs him one last time - and he is gone. "We are the children of fate, not even death will relieve you of this bond." The dust rushes across the corpse, as if a chariot of souls is born within it. The sandstorm rushes across the plains, through the hills, and over the crest, finally reaching a small town. In this town, on this night, a child is born - he is Kashim. Unknown to his parents on this day, is the impact this night will have ont he future of the entire world, for he is the next child of fate.

In the back of the ballroom, where no attention is being paid, a dark form flows forth from the shadows, sending smoking ripples of shadows upward from it's body. As it finishes passing through the wall, what appears to be two glowing crimson eyes open amidst the darkness. The form moves, avoiding the gazes of those around at nearly any cost. Sliding from shadow to shadow the form moves towards the seating area, calmly, quietly. An aura fills the area, that of death, darkness, and fear. Those near the shadow subconsciously begin to drift across the room to get away from the feelings the area is eminating. As the shadow moves towards a seat is slowly takes the form of a man, about average height, slight of build, with a dark appearance. Moving from the smoking mass of darkness to the striding form of a man almost seamlessly it takes a seat by itself in a quiet corner. As one of the bouncers takes note of the new visitor he approaches this corner, that seems to even scare the light away from it. "May I see your invitation sir?" The man reaches into his coat, while still taking on his human form and hands the invitation to the bouncer "Oh, the new comer, Alzorath, enjoy the ball." Alzorath nods, his hair seeming to still be made somewhat of the shadows shifting to the side. He slides his hands across his mage coat to remove the last remnants of his wraith essence revealing his chosen attire for this evening. His Cloak of souls, a mage coat made of the souls of those who he has killed - and must remember for all eternity - shimmers with a blue shifting aura amidst a pure black cloth that seems to almost suck in the light. He has cut his hair down to a long spiked cut, and allowed a slight beard to grow out, sharing the darkness of his wraith form. Taking a seat Alzorath raises his hand slightly as a shadow forms before it. As it is summoning, Alzorath reaches in and plucks out a black sketchbook with a pen. Making himself comfortable he begins to draw, and to keep himself to himself. His history littered with much death and destruction, much darkness, a more complicated figure than his dark appearance seems to relay, Alzorath prefers to remain quiet, observe, and sketch. With a history like his, it would take ages to relay, but he has made a pact with the devil, and has the scars to remind him never to do it again. Over time, you may begin to understand even just part of how he came to be what he is now, but for now simply know he has much to attone for. ------------------------- Lord Alzorath Mataku Daragoon Archmage of the Darkness Dark Prince of the Dara Empire I have the shadows of hell in one hand, the powers of my family in the other, I must atone for the destruction I have wrought. -------------------------