Contributor
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2018
- Messages
- 550
TL;DR and then TL;DR'd TL;DR in the comments.
Well, no one really seems to use the
forums anyway, so hopefully no one minds me posting here. If a mod would like me to remove this, just let me know and I will gladly comply.
So. Woke up at 6 am when I didn't have anything today having just had a really interesting dream, so when I couldn't fall back asleep, I started writing some of it in the notes app on my phone. It came out pretty cool, in my opinion, so Imma just store this scene here so I can copy-paste it into my computer and keep writing. (I know, I know, I should just use google docs.) Read if you want, I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Context is a fantasy world where the main character has just witnessed the beginnings of a coup, and is currently hiding in a huge stairwell. I'm quite proud of the way I wrote pure terror.
That's when I hear it. The sound is muffled, deathly quiet - but still unmistakable. Footsteps. Calm and confident. And fast. (I would have missed them were it not for every sense I had being on high-alert)
The sound is coming from directly above my head. He's just one flight of steps above me. How had I not heard him sooner?!
A thousand thoughts rush through my head at once, and I decide on a course of action before most of them even have time to settle into words.
Quietly, quietly, quietly, I get up, and I begin walking down the steps as quietly as I can.
I at least want to keep the same amount of distance between us.
At first, I'm proceeding at the same pace he is, but when I hit the landing, adrenaline kicks in and I speed up. My heartbeat jumps into my ears, and I become suddenly aware of my blood rushing like a torrent through every part of my body. My legs begin to feel light, like they're not my own. The need to get away takes over everything in my head, dominated only by the need to do so as quietly as possible. Faster, quieter, faster, quieter, faster, quieter. By the time I reach the end of the next landing and start down my third flight of stairs, I am practically running, but still my footsteps barely make a sound. Even I'm surprised at how quickly I can move without sacrificing stealth. Every part of my body is tingling. It feels like I'm barely even touching the ground, like I'm barely even landing on my feet as I practically jump forward with each step, still managing to land evenly and keep my balance. I stick to the outer edge of the steps. I know it'll make me lose precious seconds, but if I'm not careful, I'll be easy to spot through the gap between the staircases. My only hope right now is to somehow make it to the end of the steps and out into the hallway. Of course, the hallway is a long stretch of open space where I'll have nowhere at all to hide from sight until I get around the corner, making me a sitting duck for range magic, but I push the thought away. If I can just make it to the bottom of the steps. If I can just make it through that door, I have a chance at survival.
I fly down another flight of steps and hit another landing. I'm close. So close. Two more landings before I hit the ground floor. I breeze around the corner and propel myself onto the next set of stairs, when I hear the door swing shut.
A click.
Closed.
Closed and locked with magic.
That was my last chance. That had been it, and it was gone.
I stop moving. My adrenaline rush abandons me, and I collapse onto the cold stone.
/I'm going to die./
I don't want to die.
Well of course. No one wants to die. But I guess we all do eventually.
I start crying before I realize it, my tears carving hot, wet trails down my cheeks.
/But I can't die./ I can't die now. I've worked so hard to get here. I was almost there. So close.
I flomp to my left, hitting the cold railing, and staying there. I'm crying harder than I've cried in years, but I still haven't made a sound. I guess despite the fact that my adrenaline rush has left me, the urge to stay silent still can't be overridden.
How stupid.
I manage a small, self-deprecating chuckle.
/I could still hide./
The thought flits through my head, but there's nowhere *to* hide. I know that. No.
/If I'm going to die anyway, I should face my death with honour./ (courage?)
I push myself off of the cold, hard stone.
My arms shake from the exertion. With the adrenaline gone, all of the energy has left my body.
I'm strong. Running down these steps could have easily been a part of my daily training routine, but running while terrified is a different story. Running while terrified always uses all of your energy in one go, and when the fear passes, it leaves only emptiness in its wake.
My legs are shaking so hard I begin to wonder if my sword isn't clacking against the railing, and I'm just so out of it I can't hear it.
/My sword./
My hand lands on the hilt of my sword and the hard metal almost burns my skin. I don't want to touch it. I don't want to draw it.
/There's no point in fighting anyway. I'm just going to lose, I might as well die without making a fool of myself./
The thought that I just don't want to hurt anyone claws at the back of my mind, but I push it away - or begin to, but I stop.
Is there any point in lying to myself in my final moments?
No. I will face my death with honesty and courage, and perhaps if there is an afterlife, I will find peace.
So I finally admit it to myself. I *don't* want to hurt anyone. I *can't*. Even when faced with my own death, with the deaths of my comrades just an hour ago, when everything changed. Even to protect, even to save a life - I cannot. I just can't bring myself to inflict harm.
My tears flow with renewed vigour as everything I've been trying not to look at these past months - no, years - comes spilling out. Long before I began my training. I knew the second I set out on this path that I couldn't do it.
I *had* to learn the sword. It came part and parcel with what I wanted to do, but I never had any intention of using it. Despite all my denial, I comforted myself as I learned these skills with the thought that no matter what happened, I would never, ever put them to use. All this time, reminding myself that I would never raise my sword against another living being had been the only way I'd managed to get through learning to use it without falling apart.
It feels good to finally admit all this. To finally come clean to myself. I feel calm for the first time in months. For the first time since I got here, I am finally at peace.
/*Wow.* I'm literally going to die, and now I finally feel calm? *Now* I finally start to feel okay inside my own skin again?/
But I don't have long to continue along that track, because Eon reaches the flight of stairs right next to mine and all of my thoughts grind to a halt.
My mind empties itself as I turn to see his bright yellow shoes, now sullied with patches of rusty red.
/The railing looks like prison bars./
That is the first thought to flit back to me as I watch Eon slowly come into full view.
The calm I had been mocking myself for just seconds ago is nowhere to be found now. I'm terrified. So completely terrorized that everything seems to slow to an agonizing pace. I can't even hear Eon's footsteps anymore, even though he's so close to me. All I can hear is my blood pounding through my head. Blood that will soon stain these steps, flow down them to pool all over the landing. I want to run. I want so badly to run away.
/There's nowhere to go./ I have to keep reminding myself. /It's hopeless./ This meaningless act of dying that one minute sooner is the last thing I can do to make myself proud.
I'm crying even harder now, but still not making a sound, and I can't tell if my vision is blurry from the tears or from the constant trembling.
Finally, Eon's slow and steady footsteps bring him fully into view, and when his blue eyes lock with mine, everything falls away.
My heartbeat grows distant. It's probably still pounding just as hard but I can't hear it. I can't feel my shaking legs, and I blink away my tears for a moment of clear, unhindered sight. A high-pitched noise seems to register at the back of my mind, and it's like everything is swelling - swelling and becoming oppressive, higher pitched, heavier, further and further down the rabbit hole until it bursts.
Eon stands in front of me now, and I've never felt our height difference so acutely. He seems to tower over me. My eyes lock into place, avoiding his face, staring straight ahead. I can't see anything but his soft blond hair. He seems to say something, but it doesn't register, can't break through the thick swelling and the high-pitched drone in my head.
When I feel his hand touch my arm, it is like an explosion.
Everything bursts back into my consciousness at once, my eyes widening as they take in everything around me with a depth and profoundess I didn't know I could muster. All of my senses are heightened. I feel like I can do anything.
I throw his arm off with a force I didn't know I had, but then I freeze.
I don't want to fight.
I don't want to hurt him.
I have just watched this man murder three other people, people we had both known and trained with together, people with lives and families and hopes and dreams and wishes - and I couldn't hurt him.
At least I knew that now.
But I didn't want to fight him, and I didn't want to run, so I froze.
What could I do? There was nothing to do. It was stupid to throw his arm off in the first place.
I had nothing else to do but wait for him to kill me, so I glared. I had nothing to say to him, but I hoped at least my eyes could convey the hatred I had for the one who had murdered our comrades - and for what. Power. A stupid crown. I hope you realize the weight of what you've done when you find yourself sitting at the top with none of the people you once knew around you.
"Come with me."
His words register far too loud in the silence of my heightened awareness, and I would have jumped were it not for the fact that every muscle in my entire body had already gone tense.
I don't know how to respond. I just keep glaring at him in silence.
Eon stares at me for a few moments longer before grabbing my wrist.
His grip on my wrist is slight, but it burns like fire. I don't want him touching me.
Still, I don't particularly intend to resist - but when he tugs me forward, I am so tense that I barely move, my upper body coming slightly off balance without breaking my stance.
He clicks his tongue.
I still don't know what to do. A thick silence hangs in the air between us for a moment, and all I can do is stare at him dumbly as I wait for his next move.
/Why am I not dead yet?/
Suddenly, his grip on my wrist tightens with a strength I didn't know he possessed, and he yanks me towards him so hard I almost fall flat on my face. It **hurts**. My yelp of pain surprises even me, given that I couldn't even *sob* just a minute prior.
Everything still seems to be moving at a snail's pace for me, and even in that moment, where normally all I would be registering is the pain of his grip, I am terrified. I am terrified because with my current trajectory I'll fall directly into Eon's chest, and that's the one thing I can't stand right now. I don't want to be that close to him. I can't have that much of my body touching him at once.
So I lean all my weight forward and down, using the momentum to send myself careening towards the ground, just managing to catch myself with my free hand. Now *that* **hurts.** A stinging pain sears through my wrist and the bottom half of my palm, but it's not nearly as surprising this time, so I stay silent.
Again, my own movements surprise me, and I don't know what to do, understanding fully the futility of running but apparently unable to completely surrender myself to my fate.
I hang limply from the one hand that Eon has a grip on, my gaze fixated on the floor, and I realize what a depressing picture we must make - him, blood staining his clothes and shoes, towering over me as I lay half-curled on the ground, my wrist caught tight in his grip, leaving my arm pulled towards him and in disharmony with the rest of my body.
Like something out of a creepy painting.
Somehow, I become aware of him staring at me. He's staring at me so hard he could sear a hole through me, but neither of us moves.
He drops my wrist.
My hand falls to my side with a soft plop, snapping me out of whatever trance I might have fallen into, and I get back to my feet, remembering suddenly that I had wanted to die with grace.
Once I'm standing fully, my gaze wanders over Eon, taking him in, and I notice that for some reason, he looks rather dejected - *hurt,* even.
No, this man is a murderer.
I shake my head almost imperceptibly, just enough to clear the thought, and feel my demeanour harden again.
There's a long pause as I glare at Eon, who suddenly won't meet my eyes. Finally, he speaks.
"I promise not to touch you if you just cooperate."
Don't ask about my character names, I think they're lame too. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Well, no one really seems to use the
forums anyway, so hopefully no one minds me posting here. If a mod would like me to remove this, just let me know and I will gladly comply.
So. Woke up at 6 am when I didn't have anything today having just had a really interesting dream, so when I couldn't fall back asleep, I started writing some of it in the notes app on my phone. It came out pretty cool, in my opinion, so Imma just store this scene here so I can copy-paste it into my computer and keep writing. (I know, I know, I should just use google docs.) Read if you want, I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Context is a fantasy world where the main character has just witnessed the beginnings of a coup, and is currently hiding in a huge stairwell. I'm quite proud of the way I wrote pure terror.
That's when I hear it. The sound is muffled, deathly quiet - but still unmistakable. Footsteps. Calm and confident. And fast. (I would have missed them were it not for every sense I had being on high-alert)
The sound is coming from directly above my head. He's just one flight of steps above me. How had I not heard him sooner?!
A thousand thoughts rush through my head at once, and I decide on a course of action before most of them even have time to settle into words.
Quietly, quietly, quietly, I get up, and I begin walking down the steps as quietly as I can.
I at least want to keep the same amount of distance between us.
At first, I'm proceeding at the same pace he is, but when I hit the landing, adrenaline kicks in and I speed up. My heartbeat jumps into my ears, and I become suddenly aware of my blood rushing like a torrent through every part of my body. My legs begin to feel light, like they're not my own. The need to get away takes over everything in my head, dominated only by the need to do so as quietly as possible. Faster, quieter, faster, quieter, faster, quieter. By the time I reach the end of the next landing and start down my third flight of stairs, I am practically running, but still my footsteps barely make a sound. Even I'm surprised at how quickly I can move without sacrificing stealth. Every part of my body is tingling. It feels like I'm barely even touching the ground, like I'm barely even landing on my feet as I practically jump forward with each step, still managing to land evenly and keep my balance. I stick to the outer edge of the steps. I know it'll make me lose precious seconds, but if I'm not careful, I'll be easy to spot through the gap between the staircases. My only hope right now is to somehow make it to the end of the steps and out into the hallway. Of course, the hallway is a long stretch of open space where I'll have nowhere at all to hide from sight until I get around the corner, making me a sitting duck for range magic, but I push the thought away. If I can just make it to the bottom of the steps. If I can just make it through that door, I have a chance at survival.
I fly down another flight of steps and hit another landing. I'm close. So close. Two more landings before I hit the ground floor. I breeze around the corner and propel myself onto the next set of stairs, when I hear the door swing shut.
A click.
Closed.
Closed and locked with magic.
That was my last chance. That had been it, and it was gone.
I stop moving. My adrenaline rush abandons me, and I collapse onto the cold stone.
/I'm going to die./
I don't want to die.
Well of course. No one wants to die. But I guess we all do eventually.
I start crying before I realize it, my tears carving hot, wet trails down my cheeks.
/But I can't die./ I can't die now. I've worked so hard to get here. I was almost there. So close.
I flomp to my left, hitting the cold railing, and staying there. I'm crying harder than I've cried in years, but I still haven't made a sound. I guess despite the fact that my adrenaline rush has left me, the urge to stay silent still can't be overridden.
How stupid.
I manage a small, self-deprecating chuckle.
/I could still hide./
The thought flits through my head, but there's nowhere *to* hide. I know that. No.
/If I'm going to die anyway, I should face my death with honour./ (courage?)
I push myself off of the cold, hard stone.
My arms shake from the exertion. With the adrenaline gone, all of the energy has left my body.
I'm strong. Running down these steps could have easily been a part of my daily training routine, but running while terrified is a different story. Running while terrified always uses all of your energy in one go, and when the fear passes, it leaves only emptiness in its wake.
My legs are shaking so hard I begin to wonder if my sword isn't clacking against the railing, and I'm just so out of it I can't hear it.
/My sword./
My hand lands on the hilt of my sword and the hard metal almost burns my skin. I don't want to touch it. I don't want to draw it.
/There's no point in fighting anyway. I'm just going to lose, I might as well die without making a fool of myself./
The thought that I just don't want to hurt anyone claws at the back of my mind, but I push it away - or begin to, but I stop.
Is there any point in lying to myself in my final moments?
No. I will face my death with honesty and courage, and perhaps if there is an afterlife, I will find peace.
So I finally admit it to myself. I *don't* want to hurt anyone. I *can't*. Even when faced with my own death, with the deaths of my comrades just an hour ago, when everything changed. Even to protect, even to save a life - I cannot. I just can't bring myself to inflict harm.
My tears flow with renewed vigour as everything I've been trying not to look at these past months - no, years - comes spilling out. Long before I began my training. I knew the second I set out on this path that I couldn't do it.
I *had* to learn the sword. It came part and parcel with what I wanted to do, but I never had any intention of using it. Despite all my denial, I comforted myself as I learned these skills with the thought that no matter what happened, I would never, ever put them to use. All this time, reminding myself that I would never raise my sword against another living being had been the only way I'd managed to get through learning to use it without falling apart.
It feels good to finally admit all this. To finally come clean to myself. I feel calm for the first time in months. For the first time since I got here, I am finally at peace.
/*Wow.* I'm literally going to die, and now I finally feel calm? *Now* I finally start to feel okay inside my own skin again?/
But I don't have long to continue along that track, because Eon reaches the flight of stairs right next to mine and all of my thoughts grind to a halt.
My mind empties itself as I turn to see his bright yellow shoes, now sullied with patches of rusty red.
/The railing looks like prison bars./
That is the first thought to flit back to me as I watch Eon slowly come into full view.
The calm I had been mocking myself for just seconds ago is nowhere to be found now. I'm terrified. So completely terrorized that everything seems to slow to an agonizing pace. I can't even hear Eon's footsteps anymore, even though he's so close to me. All I can hear is my blood pounding through my head. Blood that will soon stain these steps, flow down them to pool all over the landing. I want to run. I want so badly to run away.
/There's nowhere to go./ I have to keep reminding myself. /It's hopeless./ This meaningless act of dying that one minute sooner is the last thing I can do to make myself proud.
I'm crying even harder now, but still not making a sound, and I can't tell if my vision is blurry from the tears or from the constant trembling.
Finally, Eon's slow and steady footsteps bring him fully into view, and when his blue eyes lock with mine, everything falls away.
My heartbeat grows distant. It's probably still pounding just as hard but I can't hear it. I can't feel my shaking legs, and I blink away my tears for a moment of clear, unhindered sight. A high-pitched noise seems to register at the back of my mind, and it's like everything is swelling - swelling and becoming oppressive, higher pitched, heavier, further and further down the rabbit hole until it bursts.
Eon stands in front of me now, and I've never felt our height difference so acutely. He seems to tower over me. My eyes lock into place, avoiding his face, staring straight ahead. I can't see anything but his soft blond hair. He seems to say something, but it doesn't register, can't break through the thick swelling and the high-pitched drone in my head.
When I feel his hand touch my arm, it is like an explosion.
Everything bursts back into my consciousness at once, my eyes widening as they take in everything around me with a depth and profoundess I didn't know I could muster. All of my senses are heightened. I feel like I can do anything.
I throw his arm off with a force I didn't know I had, but then I freeze.
I don't want to fight.
I don't want to hurt him.
I have just watched this man murder three other people, people we had both known and trained with together, people with lives and families and hopes and dreams and wishes - and I couldn't hurt him.
At least I knew that now.
But I didn't want to fight him, and I didn't want to run, so I froze.
What could I do? There was nothing to do. It was stupid to throw his arm off in the first place.
I had nothing else to do but wait for him to kill me, so I glared. I had nothing to say to him, but I hoped at least my eyes could convey the hatred I had for the one who had murdered our comrades - and for what. Power. A stupid crown. I hope you realize the weight of what you've done when you find yourself sitting at the top with none of the people you once knew around you.
"Come with me."
His words register far too loud in the silence of my heightened awareness, and I would have jumped were it not for the fact that every muscle in my entire body had already gone tense.
I don't know how to respond. I just keep glaring at him in silence.
Eon stares at me for a few moments longer before grabbing my wrist.
His grip on my wrist is slight, but it burns like fire. I don't want him touching me.
Still, I don't particularly intend to resist - but when he tugs me forward, I am so tense that I barely move, my upper body coming slightly off balance without breaking my stance.
He clicks his tongue.
I still don't know what to do. A thick silence hangs in the air between us for a moment, and all I can do is stare at him dumbly as I wait for his next move.
/Why am I not dead yet?/
Suddenly, his grip on my wrist tightens with a strength I didn't know he possessed, and he yanks me towards him so hard I almost fall flat on my face. It **hurts**. My yelp of pain surprises even me, given that I couldn't even *sob* just a minute prior.
Everything still seems to be moving at a snail's pace for me, and even in that moment, where normally all I would be registering is the pain of his grip, I am terrified. I am terrified because with my current trajectory I'll fall directly into Eon's chest, and that's the one thing I can't stand right now. I don't want to be that close to him. I can't have that much of my body touching him at once.
So I lean all my weight forward and down, using the momentum to send myself careening towards the ground, just managing to catch myself with my free hand. Now *that* **hurts.** A stinging pain sears through my wrist and the bottom half of my palm, but it's not nearly as surprising this time, so I stay silent.
Again, my own movements surprise me, and I don't know what to do, understanding fully the futility of running but apparently unable to completely surrender myself to my fate.
I hang limply from the one hand that Eon has a grip on, my gaze fixated on the floor, and I realize what a depressing picture we must make - him, blood staining his clothes and shoes, towering over me as I lay half-curled on the ground, my wrist caught tight in his grip, leaving my arm pulled towards him and in disharmony with the rest of my body.
Like something out of a creepy painting.
Somehow, I become aware of him staring at me. He's staring at me so hard he could sear a hole through me, but neither of us moves.
He drops my wrist.
My hand falls to my side with a soft plop, snapping me out of whatever trance I might have fallen into, and I get back to my feet, remembering suddenly that I had wanted to die with grace.
Once I'm standing fully, my gaze wanders over Eon, taking him in, and I notice that for some reason, he looks rather dejected - *hurt,* even.
No, this man is a murderer.
I shake my head almost imperceptibly, just enough to clear the thought, and feel my demeanour harden again.
There's a long pause as I glare at Eon, who suddenly won't meet my eyes. Finally, he speaks.
"I promise not to touch you if you just cooperate."
Don't ask about my character names, I think they're lame too. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
