A Mythological Fierce

A Greek Mythology Tale.

My reluctant source was upon the abnormal and the mystical. Once, have I encountered the mythical incongruity of the Mythological. Of course the journey was strange and fierce but long ago the subject in general were of a dull reluctance and the genre itself was entirely non-fathom due to it’s aged setting which I know not of it to become. Its fictional blasphemous Religion is also what bothers me long ago for its background setting was too unstable and partially aged to be exact or reframe as before. It began within my abode where all was quite interesting and the frames and enlightenments of the area were adapted with the Victorian décor and the multiple articles upon the literary genre itself. Most of the time I would be interested with the literary attachments. For some reason it adapted my intelligence over any main class of education (other than the utter difficulty of Mathematical caricature). My name was David Monetta; I was a philosopher of the scientific analysis’ and a literary/poetic journalist who would mostly submit his personal pieces among the Writer’s Throne. My emotions over the Greek or Roman religion, over the gods and goddesses of their time have stumbled on this land and have beat their staffs along the ground to summon their so-called majestic entities which man has not found, nor have science have conquered any queer detail among the blasphemous subject. I also never noticed any fine detail that the most wonderful aspect on earth would be love for there is no compelling progress among the subject and that hearty man would give his life for that woman who would have probably damned herself throughout the rest of her life entire. 

Let’s just admit that my sentiment was not one to aggravate nor to debate over among the sciences of man and the blasphemous spiritual realms. Years I have studied and my facts must be true, to divide man by spirit is something difficult to do. A God may kill a man or even cheat his correlation, or would not even listen to your feeble optimisms or opinions. If I were to be a celestial odyssey I would have rid of all this blasphemy and only to leave man standing on his solitary feet and his mortal pride. And yet, where would his mentality travel, and where would he travel to then? I wouldn’t cease to figure out but to store my time then that I had rid of the Gods and so the blasphemy would never cease to reveal a spec of light or sight ever once more. 

Although, to never believe in such a thing, one must believe in something great. It was the day I noticed the item. While grooming my attic and to scatter the debris and leftover diplomas I have figured something never seen before my eyes. I dropped my cleaning utensils and headed to the thing. It was a crate. I could not search it for then my life would differ perhaps. Or I would never notice a single item the similar way as I would have long ago. But, my curiosity seized my intellect and there would only be one way to rid of that annoyance. I began to slam and jerk the crate but it would not open, so as the various toxic potions I conjured have not worked. Until once giving up, it creaked. By turning I viewed the crate to have a box. The box had abnormal carvings and the scent the crate had was of aged seawater of the Pacific. Queer heads of both revolting and miraculous invaded the carvings. It also had a dark side, where the Hellish daemons of the underworld lurk and where Charon’ with his Gothic raft of a boat have both psychotically flew and roamed along the streets of black mists and the cobblestone ground-borders, and so have the lanterns conceded an opaque bloody red. My mind was astonished and I assumed that this would have been Mythology at its greatest attempt to seize me in interest. Yet, my correlation never knew how cosmic and brutal the outlines of the box viewed of. And the outline was none other than I could correlate of, the outline was much more than I could bear. It seemed so interesting to view the compatible item within the box. At that moment I was sincerely disappointed to be breaking the next box, especially this one, having so much of an agriculture to appeal and so as the carvings which were so arousing to the mind. At a moment’s hope I succeeded within figuring a key which have lay far within the tattered crate. I grabbed the key and entered the key within the diminutive key hole, additionally encasing a pure golden piece to circle the keyhole. As to open the object, it was simple, for it were just the work of the mechanical tumblers and the click of the latch to open the device or box in general.

Dust began to seal my breath once it released its substantial vigor. My nostrils seemed to be bleeding as to what I apprehended and sensed upon my own sensible act of mentality or either the physical contact of life itself. I was then astounded by the greater architecture within the box for there contained three ancient items: A book, ink, and a feather pen. My correlation could not complete the sight as heavily as it would have normally but then subsiding to the natural edifices of what I naturally encountered. I viewed the great Olympian Mountains and the strange mystical gods of either Greek or superiorly Roman. Also in the background was the similar negativities of the realm, to offend your innermost correlation of the mind either outer or inner would do as fine as the heart you were given birth to. There were the darkened spaces of time and how Hates ruled over his mightily Gothic kingdom of atrocious and fearsome creatures. Their mouths slobbered saliva upon the ground, their claws were as sharp and rusty as the antiquated needle. And Hates, he ruled over a darkened chariot with skulls dominating the sides of it, and so have the artistry and the sudden architecture was a tad strange and abnormal upon my behalf. The room became gradually quiet and tense of sudden amazement. The artistry of the Greek or Roman republic was far above the sentiment of amazement and to how the actual meaning of architecture could be apprehended about any god or goddess of the Religious times. I grabbed the book first, only to place intelligence on the matter and to study the Greek or Roman particulars of the ancient and abominable. My intellect could have sourced out the greater abundance of the item and literary speech of the unknown poet: I have seen the good and so have the bad, but the spirits have dominated all either sad, the bad and the sad have of greater meaning for the seems have done aggravated glee or grieving, and those who have dominated the mortals below, the greater ones will now ser-mount the humans for not the foe.

What a poetic piece I perceived and to say that out loud as well have I did. As once as I laid the passage-full book, the grounds began to growl, rumble, and shook. The glasses toppled over and my antiquated belongings have surpassed to the death. And for that moment as the world grew mad, all that shook have seeped right back into place. It were as if the world hath reversed and the seas have sunk back, all that would have died from trucks to tacks. And from then my poetic justice ceased to follow my mind, oh, have I done wrong doings to myself and the world as I knew it. At least now the rumblings have been seized and the travelers had rid their screeching tune. I then surveyed the ink; I turned the bottle and to my surprise I saw an anonymous celestial colour, it was strangely unrecognizable by sight and thought, it were as if it were to tear from The Colour Out of Space by the beloved Lovecraft himself. I then felt the diminutive feather pelt of the pen, the touch was unrealistically soft and felt of nothing I have ever touched or encountered within my life becoming. Perhaps it were the feather of a Mythical griffon of some sort or it were perhaps to be of a phoenix. I could not tell the resemblance of any of the mythical beings but those two various types. The grounds began to unsettle once more, and the glasses began to topple over, men, women and children ran to the hills for safety. The rumbling caused all vision to seem indistinct and abnormal. All that were to be supervised along the clear was the fearsome daemons of either underworld or hell. I saw the claws of those diabolical daemons afar, their claws represented true death among my eyes and their foul slobber, their saliva was similar to the various acids found along the Galactic atmospheric realms, the hues of green and orange varied and continuously asserted of  pure terror. Their eyes grudged red orbs and the blackest of pupils, conveying outlines of the grayish shades of hell itself. I then saw black sludge crawl along the ledge of my window devouring all that survived into dark and superior devices. All now seemed to be opaque and negatively brilliant. The fearsome howls and the deathly screeches of those scurrying amongst the hills afar. The daemons approached yonder before me and spoke unrecognized dialect which my mind could not make up or think anything of. 

I could now already see the pits of hell and realize what the underworld must save for what was bound to come. My vision went black and all I saw was the black pitch of my affected vision. I assume I could neither weep for my eyes felt fro and desolate of life. I began to frantically worry about my body and wondered if it had been affected in any type of way. I wanted to scratch my eyes as if to be a foreign animal on a search for hunger. I felt the blood trickle along my cheeks and how tears were added to the assortment. I wanted to brawl the inclination of what irritation I urged to rid. Yet, I could undergo no sudden ache or I could not hear the sound of the scraping abhorrence my fingers tortured. Perhaps all were of great allusion and the thought of beginning to depart from earth. And how would I view this as. Perhaps I would have viewed it as something much more less serious than it would actually tend to become or be. My vision began to fade into reality and to release an annoyance of sound for a small amount of seconds, somewhat like a white noise of a simple diminutive dog whistle. I urged and gargled my own seething breath as if I were to drown within the pits of hell, within the magma of full underworld. I saw the mountains of blameless souls and the scorching fires burst from the ground, so have I seen many skies black and the silhouettes of the daemons once seen before my very eyes. Hates stood upon his throne pacing his fingers along the armrest of the throne bedecked with the marvelous Gothic architecture of the foul daemons and the innocent land of man to fall in the pits of hell. His face was enclosed a black cloak which he were to silhouette man from bearing in mind the earth as we knew it. “If I were to reveal my face, all mankind would realize the greater truth of earth. That it is not as it seems, that it is not a world of joy or to make friends or any of that mortal rubbish,” He paused for a moment as he rose up, “it is to be agitated amongst death and to be taken by Charon, my faithful companion to adjoin the process of mine. If that is, if you pay him one mortal coin.” I knew not if he were to converse with me, all I noticed was that he must have known the truth of earth just like me. I knew the earth was no room for rubbish, even I agreed that the mortal realm was too strange and sadistic to be lively on. To be social upon that earth is futile, and also to notice true friends is what I dislike most. I never really thought of what life meant till’ Hates spoke of what I must achieve or actually appreciate in authenticity. It is that death always conquers in the final attempt and that everyone must depart eventually. It is also what life truly is; time to live and enjoy yourself, till’ death strikes and you’re departed into his realm for another life, but a life of regret and misery, and to wonder what depression truly felt to those who knew the truth. The anti-social race which have noticed the veracity of existence and the veracity of demise. I noticed the book which have lay there beyond my feet and before Hates. I walked amongst his throne to retrieve the book and Hates did not seem surprised to survey my presence. “Ah, it is you who have noticed the truth, and it is you that finally notices that we gods subsist among this valueless land and so have many gods thought the equivalent judgments. I understand it is depressing to figure out what life should truly be, but you must not spread this word for it is much similar to a plague, if you challenge this plague then all will be miserable and the earth’s axis will tilt the other way around, do you understand mortal?” His voice was sincere and tranquil. I assumed he were grave among the topic. 

“ I understand dear Hates,” I spoke “ and I have too noticed that depressed individuals do not enjoy the company of others and do not speak to others for they’re intellect subsided by your contact and your slight removal of your cloak for either are depressed or they either depart from the dreaded earth. I understand sir”. To retrieve back home and to view no moans, of those dreadful black roses too be grown, and all that I have witnessed must be replaced, from the very first moment to the view of thou god’s face. My vision began to transfer and my mind conjured into a state of unconsciousness while levitating within a mythical portal throughout the mortal land. All I saw were the various anonymous colours only found within the pages of The Colour Out of Space. I viewed many realms of the gods and mostly the positive ones for the moment being. I viewed celestial lakes and architectural Greek as I have imagined it to be. I even saw the superb gardens of eccentric plants, assorted with multiple varieties of hue. Colours which I have never seen to bloom before; I have even seen the gargantuan floral apprehension of unknown fruits known to man. Their juices were so sweet, some bitter, and some sour at times. I have even encountered the wine of the Greek which was superb in taste and admitted of a fizzy addition. All have I seen and encountered, but the depressed conscious could not aggregate any optimistic truth of sentiment; all I thought were the pessimistic enigmas of mind and reality. The gateway of either universe or realm could not be met for only depression entered my mind and correlation and the positive achievements departed much like a tainted country which the foreigners defy or flout, or perhaps would it be the scenery. The skies are opaque and ominous, and the plantation rot till its very sweet seed now encrusted with the pitiful negligence of sour bitterness. So all foreigners depart the area and continue to travel till they naturally vanish into the dust upon the ground. I’ve seen things no man has ever seen, I have seen the realms of death and the negative foe, I have conjured a simple tale to tell my grandchildren, that death is always around the corner and that death will always conquer even to Love one must depart till their bodies relish within the pitiful pits of yonder hell, and then to sing the songs of nighttimes afar. And with that, I realized that home had subjugated in reality and so forth realization had conquered my two various spirits, the mental and the physical. Throughout those years my intelligence grew perplexing and significantly solemn among man and the devout realm of Religion and Mythology. And with those years, faces began to grow pale (perhaps the undoing of Hates’ cloak) and the world suffered greater and greater till all had to repopulate quickly before the race grew to a diminutive populace. And sooner or later the plague amplified and spread along the hills afar. It began with a pale attitude, significantly depression, then dismembering the blood cells within the stomach acid, churning the stomach and coughing the opaque shade of blood along the hospital grounds, staining the clear white grounds to bloody arousal. Their eyes would rearrange in colour to a hellish red and would decide to eat raw flesh of any assorted animal. And so the world always sought of the most gruesome death; the plague of depression, and death.

Author's Note

Author's Note:
Upon my mentality, I recommended this story to be one of my worst tales I have ever written by far. This story was essentially an educated assessment which was (by my intellect) rushed by the author which is I and I have also added a quick moral to depict of what death meant and of what depression meant to those "mortal" or negatively "moral".