Forsaken

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Suffering silent.
4.9k words
3.93
16.9k
0

Part 1 of the 4 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 10/17/2004
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"On this dark, stormy night I travel lost and alone; in the shadows I roam. Through the labyrinth of mortal decay further down the spiral each day as hopes slowly slip away. These twisting, empty streets my home, drown in filth paved with blood. What kind of Beast have I become? To live in nothing, to feast on pain: Have I lost it, gone insane this mystery remains. This question remains the same. My Fate is lost, my path unknown, my history has been shown. The stars no longer project my future, my destiny has not been written. So I walk, my sword across my back, from town to town in search of answers, the end or the beginning."

He paused in thought as he lit a cigarette, a new problem at hand. With empty buildings and empty streets to the left, and to the right or up the dilapidated building to shelter he pondered. He drew a deep breath, drawing the sweet intoxicating smoke into his lungs. It filled him with a rush of satisfaction, calming his exhausted mind and dulling the pain. He cursed beneath his breath; the bitter winds then hurled his duffel bag with all the strength he could yet endure. It crashed heavily upon the rusty steal high above; with a deep sigh he prepared himself for the climb. "Home is where your head rests." He shivered.

Another day another night it's all the same. Nothing is ever changed; knowledge and wisdom come with age, then I must be ancient, the elder at the gate. I am trapped in this private hell or grim nightmare, which, I cannot wake. The agony of Life, the elusive mystery of Death, was there no end. Each is the other or are they the same, it's to late; the stress.

He taxed the last of his endurance to reach the rotting eve, wrapping his coat ever more secure around his trembling mass, half frozen and drenched. The bitter winds cutting through him to the bone, combined with driving rains in threats of drowning his soul. But then he found the vile. From his inner pocket he drew forth the delicate glass with beautiful silver overlay and golden dragons. The silver catching the light of the flashing skies to grant it a living aura, unexplained and undreamed unto mortals.

He gently removed the cork to take a small sip then replaced it in his pocket. In the span of a few breaths the bitter elements were forgotten, as the fierce chill melting to the growing infernos of this sweet drug. His mind began to ease then melted through the hidden cracks of reality. A new power, a force, surged through him filling him, consuming him in threatening desire: It beckoned. In that instant he became aware of everything, all was now his as reality churned and shifted, then shattering to crumble down around him. The jagged shards of memories and broken dreams fell together in his mind as everything became nothing and nothing became real.

Welcome to Paradox, reveal in Chaos, Anarchy the only rule.

From somewhere deep within a voice echoes across the wind, faint at first then drawn near, filled with the essence of fear. A desperate call, in desperate flight, redemption and revenge upon unseen lips echoed to his ears across the void of Night. A lost soul trapped in eternal night. Chased to the very ends of mortal life, Time at last to stand and fight. Rise upon the fiery wings of Rage; misery and fury feed the pain. Let it all out, it will explode. Give in to the Beast! Let it all go!

With newfound strength he vaulted from his lofty perch, to land heavily upon the flooded streets below. His senses in a whirl as new information rushed upon his now hyper mind. The sent of fear and suffering thick on the biting wind, and desperate calls unanswered, echoing across the darkness. His body ridged with anticipation as he searched hungrily for the source of this misery. He melted into the night, a shadow consumed in darkness; he traveled, unseen and unheard.

The chilling embrace of emptiness wrapped him in comforting void, echoing the forbidden pleasures, and granting him the will of rage. The broken world now complete, contained hidden messages of the night, clearly displayed to him in black and white. The gentle whispers of the wind now clear; everything was his and bathed in sin.

Images of combat, flashes of a broken past, glimpses of forgotten dreams, the icy kiss of Madness, rising from the void on molten wings. This hurricane of mixed emotion and churning memories, raising a storm of nightmares and chaos to devastate sheltered boundaries, in a violent upheaval of his wounded soul. The wicked terrors and demonic fantasies washed over and through him with devastating force to warp his mind in devilish desires. A cauldron of erotic images drenched in blood, woven on flesh, stitched with barbed wire. The sweet forbidding desires of flesh and blood.

A cold, physical darkness devoured him in a painful shroud of broken sanity everything he knew melting in nothingness. An unnatural shadow of decay, empty but not void, as he could feel it stir around him in its own primal dementia. He settled into this strange, unnerving darkness, its mystery numbing his senses. When from the fearful emptiness a gentle touch, warm and unknown in his long deprived emotion. He shuddered, tremors and icy tendrils curling slowly through his deadened senses bringing life back into this near frozen vessel. His mind reveled in the possibility of life, in dream neither awake nor asleep but balanced between the planes. But this fanciful realization shattered as his instincts surged forth.

He awoke with a jolt of alertness and leapt to his feet, like a startled beast, sword drawn as he pierced the darkness in desperation. His sharpened senses scanning the dense shadows to reveal, nothing. He relaxed, confused by this unexplained disruption and found he was half naked. His heavy coat and tattered wool sweater missing, allowing the freezing moisture to cling on unprotected flesh. The small room in which he was now confined was simple and empty with no doors or windows. The place resembled a tomb, locked deep in the bowels of the earth.

But as he searched deeper into the dark, misty gloom a small figure slowly became visible. There, cowering in the corner to his right, a small body, trembling with cold or fright but wrapped snugly in his clothes. He sheathed his heavy broadsword and cautiously crept across the smooth concrete for a closer inspection. He was confused and lost, hoping this new but strange companion could help answer this most disturbing mystery. He searched through his pockets finding his crumpled cigarettes and striking his only match, alerting her of his presence.

She jumped up instantly taking a defensive pose, ready for combat. Her fierce gaze locked on him but through the darkness, she was blind. Like a desperate animal she backed cautiously against the wall waiting for another sign from her visitor.

"Who are you and what are you doing with my clothes?" Raven barked sarcastically.

"I could ask you the same, what are you some kind of perv'?" her voice frightened. "How about you sharing that smoke, and we can talk about what you are." She shifted trying to relax a little, then added, "Where are we"

He scoffed, forced a laugh then with one final puff, and passed the cigarette over to her, "Congratulations. It takes talent to steal a man's clothes while he's asleep. Had a lot of practice?" He smirked.

But before she could answer the whole room shook violently as some frightful nightmare beyond the wall roared slamming its body into the bricks. The sudden forceful impact caused him to jump and reach instinctively for his sword with blurring quickness. To his horror he found it was gone. He looked at her confused to see her smiling happily. "A friend of yours?" she laughed, as the wall gave way in its second assault.

Raven turned back in time to see the wall give way. The morter and brick crumbled away. He gazed in surprised fascination, beyond the wall, a portal deep and onto its own dimension, and the reflection of a monster shrouded in the darkness. The woman's laughter was growing hysterical, reverberating in his ears. When from the darkness came a pair of glowing green eyes, it let out a deep growl announcing its rage. Awaking him with start, a frigid torrent washed over him.

Now soaked to the core and exposed to the elements he had no energy to think of this dreadful nightmare. He worried now of freezing before a safe shelter could be found. So cursing his luck he gathered his duffel bag and with a deep sigh leapt from his lofty perch to splash heavily upon the flooded streets. With a sigh and a string of curses he stumbled into the night, cold and alone. The driving winds and freezing rains punished him, Pestilence weighed down upon his soul.

His breath came in raged gasps as he fought back the cold that was desperate to freeze the blood in his veins. His muscles locked in agonizing cramps and joints denied him, while the merciless elements grew fiercer. It seemed the world was desperate for his demise. This combined misery of his entire existence, and the hopelessness of despair wrapped bitterly around his mind in a vise-like grip. He silently wish for some release, be it by life or by death he prayed.

He knew the impossibility of surviving this harsh assault; the elements were too fierce for even his immoral endurance. He summoned the last of his strength, stumbling up the rain slick steps of a condemned building and with one fluid motion drew his great broadsword. He smashed through the guarding bars like rotten planks, as muscles constricted beneath the strain, locking his brittle joints and sending him headlong, unconscious to the dusty but dry tile floor. "And I'm, in."

* * *

The muttering voices of a long forgotten past drifted to his ears, their painful scorns and cries of misery sending him down a dark spiral of dreadful nightmares. Memories of a life long ago, or a life yet to come danced through his mind like razors, each eerie voice hauntingly familiar. Each agonizing image cut deeper into his emotions. The venomous taste of madness lingered upon his parched palate, a searing dream or frightful reality. He was utterly lost in the dark depths of his own misery, consumed and drowning in the sins of forever.

'Welcome to Chaos, revel in Anarchy, Paradox the only Rule! In this room, silent and still, in the Dark I feel the chill as demons scream they call out loud. Pierce my mind, claw my soul, sweet symphony of misery, their suffering I now know. They come to me in my Dream, I dare to Wake, devour this pain and do not Break. My nerves shatter, my body falls my mind is open and knowledge flows. A new energy surges through my veins, Darkness seed takes root and begins to grow. Down the path of shadows and gloom, the nightmares rise, my soul they consume. Freedom is misery drowning in pain beneath the wave's agony, a symphony of screams, and the beautiful suffering deep within, sail upon the oceans of SIN. Welcome to the Labyrinth, lost within the Spiral, submerged in Fear, the Beast is here taking hold, tearing out my soul. Welcome to Hell, our new home. Farewell to the Flesh, surrender my soul, open ourselves to let it all go. For I am Chaos, the passion within wrapped securely in the endless depths of mystery. In this, you call Madness, I see it All. Hope is lost to pestilence, thus your misery my suffering is our pain. Reality crumbles into the sea, forever, eternity of insanity. As dreamers wake to mysteries untold, this is the Labyrinth of Chaos, spiraling into Hell! But to answer the Devils summoning call, is to surrender it All.'

* * *

A hauntingly familiar voice erupted from the darkness to clutch his mind in panic with terror freezing his heart. A furious wrath washed upon him from the depths of the forgotten. He trembled helpless before this beastly wrath, fear and rage surging through his veins as the darkness cleared, the voice now a face.

A tearful sob escaped his quivering lips, a cry for mercy to be answered with a vengeful roar and braided leather. The strap lashed out to crack fiercely upon naked flesh. He cried out in burning agony, pleading for mercy, praying for death. His mourning sobs mixed with the echoing assault to send chills crawling across burning flesh. This brought fresh tears staining his face. These tears flowed unchecked leaving him gasping for breath, as the strap again fell upon him with increasing force. He choked, his breath escaped in volatile spasms, the pain pulsing across tender nerves.

He could hear the serpentine hiss; pierce the darkness again and again to bestow its bitter kiss. He could feel each fiber of his flesh open beneath this devils tongue from which there was no escape. Then at last to exhausted to fight he lay helpless, unflinching to further attack. Broken and numb with agonizing bliss, he could only cry.

"Forgive me son," came a dry, broken whisper, "but I must cleanse you of the demons. You have been communing with the devil. There is purity in pain, your salvation lies in degradation, denounce this evil and be free from the devil."

His tears turned to blood; forceful sobs were wracking his defeated body and wounded soul.

Brought to the very brink of mortal endurance, he could only lay in submissive silence. The raw twine chewed through the tender flesh of his wrists and ankles as he struggled to escape, the splintered planks prodded and left thick chips deep under his skin. The iron nails, tore deep, seeking the fount of his life as the noose of ivy constricted his parched throat.

"The devil put those marks upon your chest boy! The devil gave you those powers, and by god and Jesus you shall be purified and taken into heaven." Spoke the rasping whisper hot and moist with drunken lust stroking the rim of his ear.

He knew that voice, but was this real or some dreaded flash back of a nearly forgotten past rising from the pits of his shattered memories. This nightmare was real, now he could remember; his chest bore a pattern, a scar, which held some frightful secret. A mystery that he could not explained.

He now heard the mumbled prayers of his drunken father in some vain attempt to bless his own madness. The smell of cheap vodka and stale tobacco wafted to his senses in pungent waves, burning his bleeding eyes. He could endure it no longer when something inside him began to rise. His fear fed this beast within his soul turning tears to rage.

A new misery now poured upon him as his father splashed open wounds with alcohol. He could feel this cold liquid slowly cascade down his aching muscles, granting mild relief until it kissed his open scars. This bitter acid seemed to slowly consume every fiber of every nerve in its long trek, delaying the true misery to come. He could feel its fire slowly burn through flesh to attack his weakened soul.

He tried to fight, tried to open his eyes and when he did the world was like never before. Now bathed in blood, the aura of death was a hanging shroud draping vividly across his eyes. But as it began to settle, a voice beckoned him from the void. Perched on the great alter before him, a raven. Its yellow eyes staring into the depths of his, and at that moment they became one. The monster growing inside him raged in escape.

* * *

Slowly, painfully consciousness filtered through a frozen vessel, melting the ice of hardened muscles allowing a pulse. As each fiber began to loosen the sluggish flow of life renewed, coursing coldly through frigid tracks. With each rhythmic beat forcing the thaw, icy sludge became life once again.

After several long moments nerves awoke sending waves of electric energy across empty flesh. Muscles began to constrict and relax, to break the layers of accumulated ice. It wasn't long and the faint spark of life returned to cold empty eyes locked in unseeing stare. Lungs once again drew breath completing the cycle of reanimation; life flowed through the vessel increasing stale consciousness. The mind slowly awoke.

He could feel the thin layers of frost solid upon his flesh; movement was nearly impossible, as he forced stiffened muscles to react. Straining he lifted his arm to clear the crystal shards from blind eyes. It took several moments before vision returned, and he observed the situation. Half frozen and locked to the floor he gathered all his strength in a desperate attempt to rise.

The agony of reanimation hammered inside his mind throbbing against his skull with deafening force to blur unsure vision, robbing him of balance. He lurched on weakened joints using his sword for support. Cursing beneath ragged gasps he staggered forward to fall upon rusting steps half rotten with age, held together with paint.

With a sigh, Raven lit a cigarette, steadily cursing the cold and rain. But as he looked down to inspect this first step he found cold fingers playing upon his scared chest. Perhaps it was more than a nightmare. Could this scar truly have special properties? He shook his head in disbelief and stumbled up the long flights. But the question still haunted him, how long had he carried this mark? What had caused such a scar? As he traced it every detail he remembered, it was perfectly even etched deep into his flesh with each line linked more like a brand than a scar. But who had applied it, and why?

He tried to shake this battery of questions by searching for safe haven, something hidden, and something dark. He found his way up several flights of shaky steps before heading out through the dense shadows. The searches for sanctuary lead him to a large apartment long forgotten by mortal society. It was filled with ancient furniture and large mirrors but he was more impressed by the large fireplace in the far wall.

Without delay he cleared a path by throwing broken pieces into the pit, and then began the task of building a small but warm fire. He stripped to the waist and using his heavy broadsword smashed the dry timber into kindling. In just a few moments he sparked a warm blaze. When he was sure of its flame he hung his damp clothes over the mantle, and warmed chilled flesh. Thanking the Goddess in a silent prayer he searched his duffel for the old bread and dried meat. By the dancing light he examined his "devils" mark. Lost in its mystery he slowly drifted to sleep. Warmly wrapped in heavy drapes he found at long last, comfort and peace.

When at last he awoke the sun was sinking below the towers of glass and steal, it had been a long time indeed since he had seen the day. Now rested and warm with life, the task began again to build a fire. With that completed it was time to sharpen his weapons and give thanks to the Goddess for this bounty.

The time passed quickly, and before long the fire had begun to die down, casting eerie shadows across the room. These dancing fiends brought to his attention the heavy chains and sharp hooks dangling from the rafters. These dreadful instruments of torture gleamed coldly in the flickering light and brought fantasies of bloodlust to his already grim thoughts. He smiled sadistically at the double and triple barbs that hung silently in the shadows just beyond the fires reach. "Welcome, home." spoke a menacing whisper. But then as he repeated it softly the misery trapped in the stale air bled through and the suffering of countless victims echoed from the dark.

He turned back to the fire, tossing more antique wood into its hungry maul, watching it wearily. How he wished the consuming blaze could devour the pain of his past as easily. With the flame as a guide that tired soul escaped into the smoke, to raise high in meditation. The baneful cries of death beckoned.

'Claw out my eyes; Afraid of what I've seen, nails driving through my brain: Cannot hear, my screams grow faint; walking in madness. It all slips away, Cannot walk in shadows dim light. My path is dark: more black than night. Blind without sight, eerie shadows dance. Dance in madness: candle burning bright, Candle burning: consumed in night. Faint light banish fear; cannot escape the baneful cries as demons calling. All I hear on wings molten pitch take flight and search the dark. Blinding light: burning curse I say farewell flesh. Heaven's rule all in shadow suspended in dusk, winter twilight: forever UN-LIFE devils pawn and hell's saint. Mysteries unknown, hidden, lost and unforgiven. Baptism of blood, bathed in SIN damn me father, I'll never give in. Release the hounds; I am the BEAST suspended forever in winter twilight eternally night.'

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