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Literature Text
Like smoke from a cigar, I am the threat of death that calms. A living shadow, I breathe the final breaths of the fallen. It is the aroma of a sweet pea, the final warmth of a candle after it has been blown out. Lips move seeking justice, retribution, silent prayers of mercy as they slip into the other side. In my eyes, the world is a play, and I have the starring role. Never do I feel remorse, but rather, it is envy I feel, of their merciful release from this world of rot. I can only long for their end and hope that anyone would be so kind as to send me to the next world in such a way as I did them. This is what I am, a bridge, a guide out of this world and into anew.
Some may call me crazy, insane. I laugh and almost feel sorry for them, for they are missing out on such beauty. My eyes are as clear as crystal, glinting in the light. Their eyes are fogged and filtered, uncomprehending what a privelage it is to set someone free. People seem to distrust it, mark me as evil, and go on with life, pretending nothing is ever happening on the outside. Yes, let yourself be blind, be ignorant. I do not exist. Still, in order for my bliss to be real, I rely on the naivety of others, I thrive in it. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What a pity to miss that.
Surrounded by my peace, I am calm, collected, safe. Don't try to ruin my blessing with the calamity you create from it, or you will find yourself departed in a breath of finality, just like all the others. This task is a security, a fountain of power, begging me to drink. I gladly accept every time. I do not end their story, I continue it from a better place. I am doing good, I am righteous, as they will see when they thank me from beyond.
Welcome to my garden, here it is always night. The moon is made of thin, sharp steel, and the roses are liquid that runs through the path. I hope you enjoy your stay, you'll be here for a while. And when the smoke clears, all that will be left behind is the pale remains, the cooling ashes, and the death.
Some may call me crazy, insane. I laugh and almost feel sorry for them, for they are missing out on such beauty. My eyes are as clear as crystal, glinting in the light. Their eyes are fogged and filtered, uncomprehending what a privelage it is to set someone free. People seem to distrust it, mark me as evil, and go on with life, pretending nothing is ever happening on the outside. Yes, let yourself be blind, be ignorant. I do not exist. Still, in order for my bliss to be real, I rely on the naivety of others, I thrive in it. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What a pity to miss that.
Surrounded by my peace, I am calm, collected, safe. Don't try to ruin my blessing with the calamity you create from it, or you will find yourself departed in a breath of finality, just like all the others. This task is a security, a fountain of power, begging me to drink. I gladly accept every time. I do not end their story, I continue it from a better place. I am doing good, I am righteous, as they will see when they thank me from beyond.
Welcome to my garden, here it is always night. The moon is made of thin, sharp steel, and the roses are liquid that runs through the path. I hope you enjoy your stay, you'll be here for a while. And when the smoke clears, all that will be left behind is the pale remains, the cooling ashes, and the death.
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In the perspective of a sociopathic/psychopathic murderer.
This was written for 's Writing Tournament second round.
The theme was sanctuary.
Read my first round entry here:
(c) Zinantis 2013
This was written for 's Writing Tournament second round.
The theme was sanctuary.
Read my first round entry here:
CrypticAs long as there is light, there will be darkness. We are people, we laugh, and we cry and we love and we hate. Everyone has their shadow. It follows them wherever they go, and the brighter that it is around them, the less shadow they have. So as people, we circle ourselves with light to dampen the shadow, but it will always be there, even if you cannot see it.
But some shadows are darker than others, and mine is the blackest of the black. My shadow doesn't follow behind me, it surrounds me, envelopes me in its cool, comforting mist. It is easy to look past, as most people do, they see the innocent eyes and the charming smile, and they never
(c) Zinantis 2013
© 2013 - 2024 Zinantis
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