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Aeraie

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GOD IS DEAD
God is dead.

I watched in a silent, screaming horror as the plane screeched far above my head, slamming its angry girth straight through the top of the North Tower. I remember the confusion travelling like a wave over all of us watching, taking our sanity by force. I don’t think a single one of us watching believed what our senses told us as we stood paralyzed, stuck to the ground. A moment of silence gripped our chests, wrenching into our hearts as we fumbled over what to say. That moment shattered as the screams began and the sobbing resumed. As for me? I just stood there, mouth gaping in disbelief. The crisp air burrowed deep into my clothing, but I never noticed. I must’ve stood there, paralyzed to that one square of ground, for what seemed like forever.
Then, at 9:03am on the morning of September 11th, 2001, a second plane soared above us all, burying itself within the middle of the South Tower. Flames began to consume the building, making the inside a likely inferno. I opened my mouth to speak – to scream – but my voice and my faith were gone.
God is dead.
Hysteric tears streamed down my face. How could this happen? How could this be real? How could our beloved God let this happen to us? How could this be a part of the grand scheme? How could things ever return to normal? How could – why would God do this to us? To me?
Sobs racked my body as my instinct took over. I curled up on that cold September pavement crying, not knowing what else to do with myself as I shook with utter disbelief. I watched those two towers burn through my blurred, teary vision. A part of me told me to run, but curiosity made me stay.

02-Aug-2012 04:55:19

Aeraie

Posts: 9,100 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Suddenly, a thunderous roar came from one of the towers. I looked up, scrambling to my feet as I saw the tower collapsing neatly upon itself. I began to run as far and as fast away as I could. My foot bent backwards at an awkward angle, making me trip. I screamed as my body smashed into the ground. I groped the curb of the street, trying to lift myself back up, but my angle was too badly twisted. I wept as the cloud of debris and poisonous gas billowed closer and closer to me, eager to claim another soul.
“Oh God, save me!” I screeched in my raspy voice as the cloud consumed me, compacting my body into the ground. As I lay there, mouth full of debris, the slow realization washed over me. God wasn’t going to come and save me. God is dead. And as I took that last breath of musty oxygen before I became the 2,114th victim to die in the 9/11 attacks, a haunting question slithered into my very being.
Was he – was God – ever truly alive?

02-Aug-2012 04:55:35

Aeraie

Posts: 9,100 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

OMMETAPHOBIA
It was a quiet, rainy night as a lone car, holding a lone being, slid into the parking lot of a small, deserted hotel. A stout man in a slick, black rain coat stepped out of the car and shut the door. He walked slowly up to the entrance of the motel, opening the doors.
The man asked for a room for himself, and the woman sitting behind the long desk handed him a key. He smiled politely at her before heading up the two flights of stairs and down a hall to his room. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
As it was quite late at night and the man had been up from a very early time, he paid no heed to his surroundings as he quickly undressed and hopped into bed, shutting off the light and closing his eyes. The man, however, felt particularly restless that night and thrust open his eyes, staring at the bleak texture of the ceiling. After some time, he turned on his side to look out the window and into the night.
Staring back at him through the window were two large, pulsing eyes. They had pupils so small that they were almost impossible to see; the pupils were engulfed by a sinister shade of yellow that almost seemed to burst out around the pupils, like some sort of bomb. The rest of those two large, pulsing eyes was a bright, crimson red color with small specks of black scattered throughout. The man’s worst fear was ommetaphobia, or the fear of eyes, and this pair of eyes must’ve belonged to some sort of demon. If eyes could smile, this pair would have such a devilish grin that even Satan himself would be afraid. Paralyzed by his own fear, the man froze in place, unable to reach the light switch or turn over to face the other wall.
The worst part about those eyes, though, was that they seemed to be staring at *him*, mocking his actions through the thin window pane. They were so clearly focused, digging sharp teeth into his very being, watching him, smiling at him. In no time in that man’s life, past or future, had he ever seen a visage so horrific

02-Aug-2012 04:57:41

Aeraie

Posts: 9,100 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Finally, the nightmare seemed to end when the man broke the spell, turning over to face the other, windowless wall, shutting his eyes and eventually letting the waves of sleep deprivation take him under.
The man woke up to a bright and sunny morning. He swung his legs over the bed and quickly dressed, cautiously avoiding the window that the eyes appeared in last night. Once his bags were packed and he was ready, he reached for the door to the room and swung it open. Overcome by some strange desire, some strange strand of curiosity, the man whipped his head back to look out that window one last time.
That was when he realized that it was not a window, but a mirror.

02-Aug-2012 04:57:56

Aeraie

Posts: 9,100 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

THE KING IS DEAD

He was a young King, still decorated in innocence at ten years of age. His blue eyes were still brightly glowing, sandy blonde hair touched with ginger, frame still delicate, not yet worth the essence of manhood. His people did not mind his age, but instead admired it. Few problems had ever existed in his kingdom, and both parties wished for it to stay that way.
His world was beautiful, colored with more intense pigments, emitting a soft cushion into the air. His trees were covered in lavender leaves and lawns coated in sea green grass. Little houses appeared everywhere, stitched into the framework. Paths dotted the lands like scars, his palace like a deep gray iris. Bodies of water, small and large, dabbled his world like sprinkles on a cake.
The palace sat atop a rolling green hill like a plump man sat in a chair. It was made out of a rich, gray stone that soaked up the moonlight with four tall watchtowers on each corner for ample defense. The courtyard was the first sight a man would see upon entering the palace; it was lined with white rose bushes and purple lilacs. In the center, a few fruit trees were encircled by stone, so that their branches, ripe with berries, would hang over for the servants to pick. The interior of the palace was filled with thick, Eastern carpets, lush in both colors and patterns. A modest line of men and women lined in front of the plush throne, eager to both voice their concerns and meet the King. Plush white curtains embroidered in indigo covered every window like clothing, and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. The King’s personal chambers consisted of a parlor, bedroom, and bathroom. In the parlor, five large chairs, carved from mahogany and cushioned with silk, sat neatly around a large limestone fireplace. Torches lined the walls leading into the bedroom, where a bed fit for a King sprawled out through the room.

02-Aug-2012 04:59:50

Aeraie

Posts: 9,100 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

A large wooden chest sat like a guard dog at the foot of the bed, filled with rich jewels and ancient artifacts. Through the bedroom came the bathroom, where steaming, warm water was always in abundance. The tub was porcelain, the sink granite.
They called him Brandon the King, and despite his young age, he had no regent – there was only him. He was so healthy, with shiny hair and a trim figure, his skin lightly tanned on the beaches. Brandon was never neglected by his people, and in turn, he never neglected them. He was a gentle King, and even spared the lives of those who had committed high treason. Death was final, and Brandon knew this lesson all too well.
Today, Brandon the King sits upon his royal throne to decide a man’s fate. This man killed his wife, his son, and his infant daughter in a mad fit of rage. Brandon smiles strongly at the man, looking past his crimes. He peers into the man’s eyes and sees something no one else sees in the man. Brandon sentences the man to work in the corn fields as a servant for twenty years. Before dismissing the man, Brandon exchanges a short conversation with him.
“As an old saying goes, what do we say to the god of death?” Brandon asks.
The man looks at Brandon weakly, unsure of how to respond. Brandon smiles softly, finishing the saying. “Not today.”

02-Aug-2012 05:00:29

Aeraie

Posts: 9,100 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

The doctor gazed upon the boy’s face. His skin was chalk white and translucent, veins visible in the skin. His hair was clean shaven, freshly fallen out, leaving a buff shine on the top of his head. Tubes went inside his nostrils and hooked him up to a machine for breathing, allowing him to survive. Earlier, when the boy’s eyes were open, he had noted their stark gray shade. Now they were closed shut, and the doctor feared this would last so.
The doctor took note of his heartbeat, watching the steady beats turn into shallow beats and then into no beats at all. Indeed, the boy had flat lined. Quickly, the doctor pressed the emergency call button.
“Paddles!” Screamed the doctor into the intercom, and soon paddles arrived. The doctor gripped the paddles and shocked the boy’s heart. The boy’s chest jerked up awkwardly with the electricity before retreating into the folds of the bed. The paddles had no effect. The doctor pressed the paddles again the boy’s chest, but no results came. For many minutes, this pattern continued, but to no avail; the boy was gone.
As the doctor wiped sweat brow his brow, he wondered what the boy’s last thoughts were. Had he dreamed of being a god? Had he dreamed of being an actor? Had he dreamed of being a king?
Soon he realized that he wouldn’t ever know the answer to the question, and he stared at the boy’s dull, lifeless body, the doctor’s tears dripping down onto the gown. Finally, the doctor set the paddles down with shaky hands and sat in the chair next to the boy, regaining his breath. He had lost another young patient to cancer, and he realized then that there were many more fatalities to follow. Slowly, the doctor lifted himself out of the chair and began to walk on shaky legs towards the waiting room.

02-Aug-2012 05:01:09

Aeraie

Posts: 9,100 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

A man and a woman, worried stricken, occupied two chairs like exhausted ants. When the doctor walked in, however, the couple’s hope regained. The doctor walked towards the couple, averting eye contact as he dipped his head lowly. Words fumbled out of the doctor’s mouth, almost inaudible to the human ear.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor began, “but your son, Brandon King, is dead.”

02-Aug-2012 05:01:25

Aeraie

Posts: 9,100 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

ROMAN A CLEF
CHAPTER 1
VINCENT
Summer’s sweet smell idled just beneath my nostrils as I took a deep breath of the stuff, savoring as though it was a cherished memory. My impure eyes, constructed of spatters of green in a brown sea, unlatched at the sound of a familiar voice. I blinked once, twice, three times before focusing my vision upon my daughter.

“Dad!” Her voice came out as a rushed whisper, “Come on. It’s about to start!” She reached out and grabbed the cuff of my blue jacket and began pulling me into a nearby room. I smiled in a way that only children can make you smile and followed her, my feet sloppily smashing into the carpet.

Once we were inside, I took a seat on a small, blue chair made for the size of an elementary school student. My old back bent and cracked as I shifted into a comfortable position as I surveyed the room and the people inside. There were about eight people in total, including my daughter. The diversity in the group was astounding, from a burly, tattooed man to a seventeen year old boy who hadn’t washed his hair to a woman my age who struck me as oddly familiar. I beamed at the others as I reminded myself where I was.

We were located inside a small Unitarian Universalist church on the outskirts of Columbus, Ohio. My daughter, Maria, had recently discovered Unitarian Universalism through one of her close friends and had decided to attend a youth conference. She needed an advisor to go, which was why I was here. One of the workshops was to split into groups and tell a story, be it yours or someone else’s. Though this was an interesting idea, I wondered where it would go or what would be accomplished.

02-Aug-2012 05:03:22 - Last edited on 23-Dec-2012 05:28:58 by Aeraie

Aeraie

Posts: 9,100 Rune Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

The workshop leader, who looked to be in his late 30s, opened his thin lips and began to speak. “Welcome, welcome, everyone! This workshop is about storytelling. You can tell your own story, or if you feel uncomfortable in doing that, you may tell someone else’s.” He clasped his hands together and smiled gleefully as the fluorescent lighting bounced off his glasses and his bald head. “Now, do we have anyone who wants to start, or shall I begin?”

When no one responded, he nodded his head slowly. “Very well. My story begins when I was in the 9th grade. I had always known that I was different, but it was up until freshman year that I denied it. I’m sure all my friends and my teachers knew, just as you all may be guessing now -- I am homosexual. I came to terms with this in high school and came out to my friends in twelfth grade. In my sophomore year of college, I made the decision to tell my very Catholic parents. As you may have guessed, they weren’t accepting of me, but by the time I finished college, they were okay with the idea. That Christmas, I asked my mother that if I had a boyfriend next Christmas, if it would be okay with her for me to bring him home with me. She said she didn’t know, and the next Christmas came along and I asked her the same question, only to receive the same answer. This repeated for many holidays. In the meantime, I got a full time job at a rollerblading rink for gays.”

At this point, the man began to tear up. He tried to hold a smile, but it was of no use and a frown gripped the edges of his mouth as salty water began to flow down his cheeks. He took two deep breaths before continuing.

02-Aug-2012 05:03:28 - Last edited on 23-Dec-2012 05:30:07 by Aeraie

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Aeraie's Compilation