Release Me from My Burdens

[AlphaMoist 1707]

     A man lay against his bedroom floor, shaking uncontrollably, frothing at the mouth. This was something that had become routine for him. When his seizures first showed their prominence to him, he hated them ferociously. Then, he learned to live with them, accepting them as a part of who he was. Now, once again, the spasms brought him nothing but pain and reminded him of his never ending misery.

 

     “R-release me from my b-burdens,” he mumbled amongst his writhing. “P-please, Mother, r-release my from m-my burdens.” His eyelids were shut so tightly that the rocky orbs hidden behind them were chafing his very flesh. While he wept, he did not cry. He merely bled.

 

     This man knew his soul was lost. He did not care. He embraced the fact that his soul was the Mother’s to have after his death, cherished the idea, even. While others would spend their eternity in Ebrietæs, his heart warmed at the thought of spending the rest of time unending within the rays of the loving grace his deity so regularly bathed him in. Truly, he was by far the most appreciative of Her believers. He spread the love of Her word with more fervor than any task he had set himself towards before. In return, She gave him a great multitude of gifts that many would, nay - have, killed for. 

 

     But he did not want them anymore.

 

     “Release me from my burdens!” he wailed as his spine bent backwards unnaturally. A loud, singular pop echoed loudly between the middle of his vertebrae, and the Exalted was stripped of his breath. He released a strong gasp as his rampant, uncontrollable movements halted entirely, and he collapsed onto the hardwood floor below him.

 

     He was frozen there, eyes clamped shut as he covered them with his hands, drowning out any inkling of light that could have possibly invaded his golden irises. “I need not your power,” he quietly murmured between his breaths, “I need not your gifts or promise of immortality to love and obey you - I can spread your knowledge and way of life to the ignorant and worthy without such gratitude.

 

     “Please, take my soul, take my life, rip my very existence from my cold, dead hands once I’m gone. Just please, please, Dearest Mother, Arun’Asna, Savior of Shades, Daughter of Iblees: listen to my cries once more, I beg of  you:

 

     “Strip the Amber from my veins. Give me back my mortality. Deliver me from my torment.

 

     “Release me from my burdens.”

[excited 10833]

 

 

no.