To Live the End

A man lives through the mind sicknesses of his haunting past, regretting past decisions. This is brought to you by Shift of RikuCorpz, owned by BrotherCorpz. Enjoy!

The dirt parted where he walked…careful of his touch. He walked silently, his hood covering his whole head; his hair, falling past his eyes. His chin was unshaven and had started to grow out of turn, uncared for. There was a clanking of metal and Guards walked past him, holding a chain. Slaves, that used to be proud citizens, walked obediently to their new masters, bound to the earth. One of them cried a silent prayer, a single tear of sorrow falling down before falling slowly towards the earth. He watched it fall and felt an aching in his head. The tear fell slowly, as if time had slowed down.

He blinked and found his view filled with the tear, giving off a concave reflection. He lacked any peripheral vision and his mind seemed attached to the tear. The tear’s reflection of his eyes rippled and changed. Within the new reflection it showed a mother crying as her baby was torn from her.

He blinked and the image was gone, he was walking down the path again. He muttered to himself, “It isn’t your problem…” 

He stumbled slightly as he heard the sudden and shrieking cry of a boy. His face was covered in dirt and his clothes were in rags. The body of a man lay in front of him, face down. The boy crouched down and constantly patted at the body, asking it to wake up; to save him from the slave drivers. The clothes on the body grew wet as the boy cried with a disbelieving look on his face.

He walked past, ignoring the pleading cries of the orphaned child. “Its not your problem…Just ignore them and move on.”

He continued to walk, but his vision became tunneled. He was having a hard time standing up, and his chest throbbed. Unable to near the pain in his chest, he looked to the people around him for help. He looked to his left and homeless people lined against the walls, their faces hidden from him. He looked to his right and opened his mouth to plead the people for help. Nothing came out of his mouth. He had gone mute. The people at the market stalls bargained with some nobles, desperately trying to sell something. He tried to make out their faces, to see if he knew them, but failed as his vision blurred.

He looked forward and was startled as everything blurred out…everything except a single figure. He stopped, shocked. The figure walked towards him, slowly. He stammered, trying to get away. “No, no…you’re dead…You can’t be here…YOU CAN’T!” He shouted the last two words at the figure, and the figure evaporated.

His vision returned and he found that he could see again. However, his chest was still in immense pain and felt like it was about to burst. He stumbled and turned around. Suddenly, all the activity stopped. No one moved. He opened his mouth to say something, and they all, with no prior movement, turned their heads instantaneously at him. His pupils dilated and his eyes grew big.

Their faces were missing.

He gaped in horror, turned, and ran. “Get away from me…you…All of you, GET AWAY!” he ran forward at an incredible speed, but he couldn’t get away from the faceless people. Images floated in front of him, playing with his vision. The ghastly figures opened their mouths, “why……” They grabbed at him with their arms. He fought them back, but to no end. He pushed straight through them and ran. All around him figures started appearing and staring at him, all of them missing faces. Dead soldiers of the resistance reached towards him, mouths open. “Why….”

The houses all around suddenly exploded as he ran. The wooden shrapnel went right through him, but he could feel the pain of every piece. Demons danced above him and little children mocked him with their playfulness. He couldn’t take it anymore, his eyes started to move wildly, his heart raced and e started pulling his hair out. The moaning of the figures filled his mind.”Stop it…Stop it...It wasn’t my problem…IT WASN’T MY FAULT!”

And then, it was quiet. All the figures had gone…all accept one; the original one. He couldn’t move anymore due to the shock. The figure approached him slowly, clad in dented and rusted armor of a war past. He looked at the figure

“Why…why must you torment me Garret…”

The figure looked at him, the only one with a face. “We all ask why…Why did we fail...why did you leave us… Why do you live?”

He stammered at him. “It…it wasn’t my fault!”

The figure drew up his sword and lashed down at him. All he could do was bring up his arms in a desperate attempt to block the attack. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, everything was gone. He stood in front of a grave. People walked around him and guards went about their duty. Slave drivers drove about, doing their business.

His eyes were bloodshot and there was a hammering within his head. He looked at the gravestone. Engraved on it was:

Garret D. Delacord, 0000, End of the Second Age. 

“May the brave leader of our resistance rest in peace…no matter the cost…we will rise again.”

The man stood there; unmoving. He tossed a single flower down to the grave, and lamented upon himself.

Darkness set in.

And then it began to rain, matting his hair to his face, mocking him of his treachery.

Author's Note

Short Story written by Thomas "Shift" Rivet after listening to
EarDrum music-Death of a friend

Reviews

[Mikel]

This has a great premise. I feel it needs some filling out. The reader needs to know why this person is being tormented. I feel like we need to have him see within himself, the trangressions that caused his torment. I think you have some great visuals here with an intriguing ending. Put a little meat on this story's bones and this could easily be a great short story.