Death (And Her Embrace)
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17-04-2013, 03:37 AM
Death (And Her Embrace)
From the vast and unseen depths of the cosmos she calls. With a voice reminiscent of the sirens of lore; she echoes her haunting serenade as she beckons you into her embrace. And even the most reasonable man would be emboldened to confess that her call is tempting in times such as these. After all, your world has crumbled around you. The essence of contentment which once burned brightly within your heart has since been blackened into a lurid sludge which now sits solidified within the depths of your core. The life-giving blood has been drained from your veins in its entirety and its absence has left you weak. Every breath is achieved only after tremendous effort and your eyes can do nothing but stare into the endless distance in front of you. Food is not an object of requirement; it is in fact a detestable endeavor which would only inspire bouts of nausea if undertaken.

As you fester in your dilapidated state, you realize that you are nothing if not dying. Anything of personage which might have once been attributed to you has since gone and left you as a shell of what you once were. The things which once gave you amusement have lost their intrigue, and the friendly company of those with whom you associate becomes stale and disconnected. How can they carry on smiling when you are rotting from within? Such genuine smiles they have. You are unable - try as you might - to understand how they are capable of achieving them. How is it that no one else can feel this overwhelming sensation that you feel? This putrid blanket of hopelessness and decay which has been so cruelly draped over the entirety of your existence; how can they be so free from it? Do they not sense it? They mustn’t be able to, for if they did, they would not have thought it beneficial to bring you out tonight. They would not have dared to utter the senseless and trifling reassurances that “Things will get better.” They can’t understand that no amount of mingling or merry-making can remedy this hell in which you find yourself. They don’t realize that you cannot be saved.

That is when, precisely at the moment in which you needed it the most, you bear witness to her resonating call. A call which forebodes her descent from the heavens as she swoops down like a phantasm to the earth below. She is coming for you, and her arrival rejuvenates you with the long-awaited sense of hope who’s existence you’ve concluded was nothing but naïve conjecture. She calls to you now; she who’s name is Death. Her embrace is cold, yet serene, and she beckons to you from within the immeasurable yet disenchanted expanse of your consciousness. “This,” you think to yourself, “this is the remedy to that which ails me. This is what shall erase the malice of my despair and end the suffering to which I am subjected.”

With the full intention of answering her call, it is soon that you find yourself alone; without the perplexed but disapproving eyes of your peers which would otherwise be burning into you. The world is far outside the four walls which surround you, and you are afforded ample time to come to terms with what soon awaits you. But this fate is not one which you dread. Not anymore. This is a fate for which you long as the warm embrace of a lover; a welcoming oasis in an otherwise parched and inhospitable desert.

Content in the nature of the task which awaits you, you gaze down at the key to your mortal release; which sits heavy in your hand. Its steel shimmers in the reflection of the light and its grip is soft against the clasp of your palm. You imagine the dynamics of the component which begets your liberation. Two hundred and thirty grains of life-taking power sitting behind the hefty weight of a lead slug. “It wont be painful”, you assure yourself. The projectile will be moving much too quickly, and will expand far too rapidly to allow for any reception of pain within the organ into which it bores. There will be an audible “click” as the hammer strikes the pin, and then there will be absolute nothingness. No pain. No sorrow. No heartbreak. For you see, death is the ultimate destination which awaits each and every one of us. It awaits our arrival at the end of this journey into which we were born without consent. The fact is that some of us view the journey differently than most, and because of this, we opt out of the otherwise extensive duration we are expected to see through.

But that is precisely why you have chosen seclusion as the proper place in which to carry out the task of mortal departure. They would not understand if they saw you this way. They will not understand when they find you here tomorrow. But their understanding is irrelevant. You have chosen to live for yourself, rather than for them. And even when they mourn your loss, it will be of no relevance to you, because you will not exist to bear witness to it. It is the ultimate in selfishness, and you accept that. You have chosen finally, at long last, to do something for yourself.

As you place the cold steel into your mouth and press the muzzle against your palate, you cannot help but feel regret that you didn’t see this through the first time.




DISCLAIMER: This was written by yours truly as a means of catharsis; as are many other forms of artistic expression. This work's author cannot be held accountable for how it is recieved, nor for any actions which it may inspire - no matter how unlikely.

Through profound pain comes profound knowledge.
Ridi, Pagliaccio, sul tuo amore infranto! Ridi del duol, che t'avvelena il cor!
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17-04-2013, 11:55 AM (This post was last modified: 17-04-2013 09:35 PM by Peanut.)
RE: Death (And Her Embrace)
Jeez, Miso... Confused

You really know how to pull a reader in. I'm sure you've heard it a million times, so I won't mention the fact that you have a way with words Cool

I think it was amazing, as I have thought of 90% of your stories. Although this deals in the subject of suicide, and due to my unpredictable and life changing reaction to losing a family member almost three years ago because of a moment of hopelessness, I'm still able to look at this as a work of fiction. I choose to ignore any "primal," first instincts of which I've become attuned, and get lost in a story.

Also, perhaps someone will read this one day, when they feel lonely and hopeless. What if they read your words and feel less alone in an otherwise chaotic world? You may never know the people of whom your words have touched, but it'll happen regardless of that fact. An artist can't choose who appreciates their work; They simply create and the world reacts in their own, unexpected ways.

I'm glad you have found a way to express yourself in an artistic way. Sometimes we feel so many emotions at once, and only a piece of paper (or a computer screen) is there is to catch the overflow.

Thank you for sharing. Your stories cause me to think and reflect. I hope that your audience received this as you intended. (Even if they DIDN'T, you would say, "Fuck 'em," anyway. Why? Because you have a creative spirit and your art is your own. You will say and do what you believe is right to yourself. People should respect that.)

"It was life, often unsatisfying, frequently cruel, usually boring, sometimes beautiful, once in awhile exhilarating." -Stephen King
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17-04-2013, 12:46 PM
RE: Death (And Her Embrace)
Someone needs a hug!
Hug

"All that is necessary for the triumph of Calvinism is that good Atheists do nothing." ~Eric Oh My
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17-04-2013, 12:57 PM
RE: Death (And Her Embrace)
Great writing. Of course, I disagree with suicide being preceded by the dismal circumstances in the story, but still, the writing is great.

I hope you will start publishing books, I would buy any novel you write.

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17-04-2013, 01:15 PM
RE: Death (And Her Embrace)
(17-04-2013 12:57 PM)Dom Wrote:  I hope you will start publishing books, I would buy any novel you write.

I tell him that all the time Big Grin He's amazing and I'll always be his groupie in regards to any writings he produces Heart

"It was life, often unsatisfying, frequently cruel, usually boring, sometimes beautiful, once in awhile exhilarating." -Stephen King
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17-04-2013, 05:43 PM
RE: Death (And Her Embrace)
(17-04-2013 01:15 PM)Peanut Wrote:  
(17-04-2013 12:57 PM)Dom Wrote:  I hope you will start publishing books, I would buy any novel you write.

I tell him that all the time Big Grin He's amazing and I'll always be his groupie in regards to any writings he produces Heart

ConsiderThumbsupLaughatHeartHeartHeartHeart

I'm quite sure you are a groupie WinkWinkWinkWinkRolleyes

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17-04-2013, 05:49 PM
RE: Death (And Her Embrace)
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