Vision of my Death

Senvae · 09-08-2008, 11:23 PM

So I was writing in my novel today and found this prose in my old documents. I made this a few years ago so it will be loaded up with errors and such, but it had an interesting flow to it. Plus it happens to be one of my sister's favorite works of mine. I never really shared it to the public so I am curious to get opinions on it.
************************************************
VISION OF MY DEATH

The figure that stood in front of me was not simply a man but a beast born hatred and rage. He hid his maniacal facade beneath the mask of humanity he wore everyday as he roamed by the city pretending to be one of them. I stood as well, just as intense as he was, with the same look in my eyes. We held a handgun at each other, both hands on the handle with the barrel pointing out to the rival, waiting for something... anything! No one fired. We simply looked at each other accusingly with scornful faces of disgust. One of us spoke with restrained hatred.
"So it's come to this you miserable bastard... you and me face to face. One of us will live, and the other..." Sometimes words can become so futile they lose themselves in the atmosphere unheard. These were understood before they were created. The beast in my sight spoke further. "You deserve to die, I was sent here to kill you. Surely you are aware of the -Why- and most certainly of the -How-!"
He had come for judgment on my way of life, this I knew. Although I was willing to die with my opinions, leaving a corpse that never lied to itself. Right at that moment I wanted to hear him say it, to laugh at how pathetic the accusations rang in my ears.
"Go on, say it! Tell my why you think your s**t doesn't stink half as rankly as mine." I took a pause to swallow as the intensity settled into my body furthermore. The more I talked, the closer I became to certain death. "You're here 'cus I'm apathetic, or maybe 'cus I'm selfish, unfounded opinions from people who lives without personal wisdom. Leaches that prefer to live from wisdom that was implied to them, living with eyes and ears in a brown paper bag. Anyone who chooses to listens will understand me, knowing they are just like me."
"SHUT UP! SHUT THE F*** UP!” he interupted swiftly with a verbal assault. In his outraged he had removed the safety of his pistol, but I copied him like a mirror image. "You always talked too much! Everyday you speak these opinions of yours like they were made of gold. You should know better than to piss people off. All the time, you open your mouth and speak your mind, your -Wisdom-, but they don't understand you. Every time, you have to explain yourself to them, to save your reputation. You're one mistake away from the mad house and I can't take it anymore. If I end this here, you will be forever silenced." That moment, I saw his hand twitch as if the trigger was pulled, though nothing happened. He wanted to gaze at me longer, the object of his misery. "I pull this trigger and become normal again, another man with the good sense to work a decent life without blasphemy. I go to church every Sunday, kiss my wife goodnight every night and raise beautiful children like a real man. I will shed myself of this...boy! We are both dead you and I, but I can walk out of here with a life." He began to disgust me too. I could not let his speech be the final words.
"You pull that trigger and all that will remain of yourself is an empty shell, not a man but rather a puppet devoid of this -life- you seek. You still haven't learned what a soul is? There is no life without a soul, and the soul is the evidence of who you are. What defines that soul is not only memories but also wisdom. So if this wisdom is shaped by the opinions of others imposed on to you, a wisdom formed of a life you followed rather than created, then you are nothing but a copy, a plagiarism, a fraud. To become alive you have to stop lying to yourself, lying to others, to shed yourself of the need to -fit in-." Though we both stood exactly alike, gun in hand ready to blow, the beast in front of me who looked just like me had a slight look of dismay behind the mask of intensity. "Would you really throw it away to be normal? Maybe you would rather live like me, and slowly earn unimaginable respect from those puppets, as they witness what they could have become. Then you will be alive, a soul, a real man in living flesh!"
In his anger and jealousy he squeezed the trigger and shot the bullet at me, but like a mirror image, my gun also detonated. What was left was a mess of crashing glass as I covered my face from the shards.
I gazed at the empty frame and backboard that used to be my mirror while I held the smoking barrel in my hands.
"The choice has been made, and now what is left is me, my soul and I."

**Nosedagger** · 09-13-2008, 07:17 AM

Quote:

So I was writing in my novel today

I think this was the most interesting part =o

But I don't have much taste for fights that I don't know the detailed emotional context of U_U

Senvae · 09-13-2008, 12:20 PM

Well its not really fight, more like internal distraught. When I wrote that a few years ago, I meant to express my personal fight between trying to be myself or be someone everyone else wanted me to be.

Refaeli · 09-29-2008, 09:59 AM

Its abit violent isn't it :S

**_Zephyre_** · 09-29-2008, 10:04 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Refaeli

Its abit violent isn't it :S

I happen to be acquainted with a person who possesses a phallus that's even more violent, and he rummages around in his nostrils with it.

Senvae · 09-29-2008, 05:38 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Refaeli

Its abit violent isn't it :S

Well then I recommend you stay away from my Fiery Lotus series, lol.

09-08-2008, 11:23 PM	#1 (permalink)
Senvae Gunzfactorian Patriot Join Date: Apr 2007 Location: Edmonton, Alberta Canada Posts: 446 Senvae's GamerBio	Vision of my Death So I was writing in my novel today and found this prose in my old documents. I made this a few years ago so it will be loaded up with errors and such, but it had an interesting flow to it. Plus it happens to be one of my sister's favorite works of mine. I never really shared it to the public so I am curious to get opinions on it. ********************************************** VISION OF MY DEATH The figure that stood in front of me was not simply a man but a beast born hatred and rage. He hid his maniacal facade beneath the mask of humanity he wore everyday as he roamed by the city pretending to be one of them. I stood as well, just as intense as he was, with the same look in my eyes. We held a handgun at each other, both hands on the handle with the barrel pointing out to the rival, waiting for something... anything! No one fired. We simply looked at each other accusingly with scornful faces of disgust. One of us spoke with restrained hatred. "So it's come to this you miserable bastard... you and me face to face. One of us will live, and the other..." Sometimes words can become so futile they lose themselves in the atmosphere unheard. These were understood before they were created. The beast in my sight spoke further. "You deserve to die, I was sent here to kill you. Surely you are aware of the -Why- and most certainly of the -How-!" He had come for judgment on my way of life, this I knew. Although I was willing to die with my opinions, leaving a corpse that never lied to itself. Right at that moment I wanted to hear him say it, to laugh at how pathetic the accusations rang in my ears. "Go on, say it! Tell my why you think your st doesn't stink half as rankly as mine." I took a pause to swallow as the intensity settled into my body furthermore. The more I talked, the closer I became to certain death. "You're here 'cus I'm apathetic, or maybe 'cus I'm selfish, unfounded opinions from people who lives without personal wisdom. Leaches that prefer to live from wisdom that was implied to them, living with eyes and ears in a brown paper bag. Anyone who chooses to listens will understand me, knowing they are just like me." "SHUT UP! SHUT THE F* UP!” he interupted swiftly with a verbal assault. In his outraged he had removed the safety of his pistol, but I copied him like a mirror image. "You always talked too much! Everyday you speak these opinions of yours like they were made of gold. You should know better than to piss people off. All the time, you open your mouth and speak your mind, your -Wisdom-, but they don't understand you. Every time, you have to explain yourself to them, to save your reputation. You're one mistake away from the mad house and I can't take it anymore. If I end this here, you will be forever silenced." That moment, I saw his hand twitch as if the trigger was pulled, though nothing happened. He wanted to gaze at me longer, the object of his misery. "I pull this trigger and become normal again, another man with the good sense to work a decent life without blasphemy. I go to church every Sunday, kiss my wife goodnight every night and raise beautiful children like a real man. I will shed myself of this...boy! We are both dead you and I, but I can walk out of here with a life." He began to disgust me too. I could not let his speech be the final words. "You pull that trigger and all that will remain of yourself is an empty shell, not a man but rather a puppet devoid of this -life- you seek. You still haven't learned what a soul is? There is no life without a soul, and the soul is the evidence of who you are. What defines that soul is not only memories but also wisdom. So if this wisdom is shaped by the opinions of others imposed on to you, a wisdom formed of a life you followed rather than created, then you are nothing but a copy, a plagiarism, a fraud. To become alive you have to stop lying to yourself, lying to others, to shed yourself of the need to -fit in-." Though we both stood exactly alike, gun in hand ready to blow, the beast in front of me who looked just like me had a slight look of dismay behind the mask of intensity. "Would you really throw it away to be normal? Maybe you would rather live like me, and slowly earn unimaginable respect from those puppets, as they witness what they could have become. Then you will be alive, a soul, a real man in living flesh!" In his anger and jealousy he squeezed the trigger and shot the bullet at me, but like a mirror image, my gun also detonated. What was left was a mess of crashing glass as I covered my face from the shards. I gazed at the empty frame and backboard that used to be my mirror while I held the smoking barrel in my hands. "The choice has been made, and now what is left is me, my soul and I." __________________ Fan Fiction by Senvae THE FIERY LOTUS** Part-1, Part-2, Part-3, Part-4, Part-5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8 (Final Chapter) GTDRPG: Polichinelle

09-13-2008, 12:20 PM	#3 (permalink)
Senvae Gunzfactorian Patriot Join Date: Apr 2007 Location: Edmonton, Alberta Canada Posts: 446 Senvae's GamerBio	Re: Vision of my Death Well its not really fight, more like internal distraught. When I wrote that a few years ago, I meant to express my personal fight between trying to be myself or be someone everyone else wanted me to be. __________________ Fan Fiction by Senvae THE FIERY LOTUS Part-1, Part-2, Part-3, Part-4, Part-5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8 (Final Chapter) GTDRPG: Polichinelle

09-29-2008, 09:59 AM	#4 (permalink)
Refaeli Member Join Date: Sep 2008 Location: England Posts: 79 Refaeli's GamerBio	Re: Vision of my Death Its abit violent isn't it :S __________________ IGN: Refaeli Clan: Konami "Bow down and suck my balls?"