AN ANTIQUE ABSTRACTION

[Benjikhei 696]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

AN ANTIQUE ABSTRACTION

AT

THE DARKENED SHORES

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III

“ Perfidious lecturer, keeping me from greater knowledge, always. ” 

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[!] LOST TO TIME, A SKETCH OF PROFOUND ANTIQUITY,  DIAGRAM OF THE FORMA DESCENDENS IN SEGMENTS I - IV

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“Man; a species so perverse, tarnished by their actions and festering in deplorable lies. I cannot abide by them. Man; whom learns nothing from mistakes- except perhaps a new way for them to take blame to their enemies, and nail it to those scalps. Man; what I once thought myself to be, and I cannot live with it. Why doth thou seek to cause me to ache so? Haven’t I given thee enough, yet? I have removed and mutilated in hands my own what little uniqueness I craved for so long, I have taken up work in your institutions and quelled those who seek to hurt you, and yet you treat me so? I will take what is owed, mark me here– and see to it another babe is not stolen away so soon, and without mercy thrown into your ever-ticking contraption.”

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“I have seen you thrive by my hand, and I shalt be made immeasurably pleased by watching you fall– and I know what fiendish tortures and grotesque practices you highly covet amongst the rabble for unfortunate creatures like me, and thousands others of my kind have wept and spluttered and prayed for forgiveness, only to be met with the silent swing of a dull and rusted razor. Vile creatures, who’d take my life, of which you have no rights to do so, prithee make it quick, make it silent. For if it is not I who drives the knife to your rotten heart, it shall be those who follow in me– so watch yourself, and your numbers, for you know not who’ll next be born a second-cursed wretch.”

 

AN ANTIQUE LAMENT, UNKNOWN AUTHOR OF AXIOS – 1215

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It was naught but black, and upon a darkened beach, cold and crashing crouched a robed creature, a ghoul in all senses but nature, sniffling desperately whilst leafing through a myriad of mouldy, damp volumes which sat strewn about the bog pile next to him– horrifically and irreparably mangled and mudded. Each page was tarnished and obscured from those sickened and dull orbs that were planted into his head, as a ripped glove continued to flip, flagrantly tearing that parchment, impudently of its content. Lies– all that flickered in his mind. A deluded fantasy– cried out another wailing voice within his inner sanctum. 

 

He stood to his feet, slowly and uncoordinated– the stance, that youthful poise he had not retained. He fell on his first attempt, into the black sand alongside his filthy tomes, angrily rebuking his attempt and splashing and flailing in rage. A weak rasping howl, rang out across the watery shore in anguish, before he stood upright again, articulated to his momentary victory. Finally, he moved to stand to his feet as coal-coloured water came rushing to his boots with the tide, submerging the books he so carelessly left behind in his wake- a lone figure traversing that moisture-ridden terrain, the hiss of a sea-snake rattling nearby.

 

Once free of that unfavourable sitting, he pulled himself along- adjusting his hood to conceal his squalid and beggarly appearance, the cape too, hiding that bespattered garments that lay beneath. Along the sanded path he trod down the shore he came upon a hollowed out fortress tower, barely standing - looking almost naught but rubble, used by the ancients no doubt. . . they shan’t miss it– he concluded, settling into it within the span of the single witching hour, obtaining pyre and beginning a weak blaze. Dozing into that sanctum he silenced prior, to ponder about his self-enforced exile- and his future on.

 

“Trapped.”

 

“What?”

 

“You. You are trapped.”

 

“False assumptions? Surely you’ve better tactics.”

 

“What reason have I to lie?”

 

“. . .”

 

“You weren’t wanted there, you didn’t belong there.”

 

“Show respect! We were there for ages, and ages. . . to abandon it for ambition. . .”

 

“THERE’S NOTHING THERE FOR YOU, CURSED.”

 

“Please, hush- I must rest.”

 

“THE GIRL HAS GONE TO WHERE NATURAL ORDER DICTATES SHE MUST.”

 

“Insubordination? From you, no less– pathetic.”

 

“WHAT WOULD YOU DO, WERE YOU TO STAY. CONSIDER IT CAREFULLY.”

 

“I’d find something, as I always do-. . . have-. . . will.”

 

“DON'T LIE. YOU WOULD BECOME A RECLUSE, A HERMIT. AND YOU ARE MEANT FOR MORE, YOU INSIPID BOY.”

 

“What have you suggested? What have you concocted, pray tell? Oh! Anticipation, I wait.”

 

“VENTURE SOUTH.”

 

“South. And what possibly awaits there?”

 

“PROMISE.”

 

“For whom?”

 

“FOR ALL.”

 

“Begone, you cringer- slinking coward, back to the dark recesses you departed from.”

 

“. . .”

 

And with that, the figure awoke in a startle; frazzled and frankly disturbed by that morbid and foreboding conversation. Prying from a pile of driftwood that lingered nearby, and poking the now crackling flame to a dim, and thereafter, ashes. As the rumbling of the distant storm, and the splashing waves rung in his ears, a shiver overtook him - a loathsome feeling, to be out there, gasping and begging from air as the currents rocked you about from side to side. A sickened remembrance of being cast out there by a blast from that damned razing you had to bear witness to. . . No GOD for those drowned at sea, he now knew.

 

If one came upon that site later, they’d have discovered nothing but that now defunct firewood, a sorry pile of ashes, a sea-foam worn coat of greenish hue- and various scrolls and diagrams of an age-old and esoteric nature; the last of his ephemeral collections and possessions in this mortal world. Where that man walks now was to be paid no mind, for now- that was all he could be defined as, just a man. 

 

Life is but a butterfly’s dream. And an abstraction therefrom.

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[!]

THE OPHIDIAN ABERRATION, THE HERMETIC ARTISAN OF YORE, 47 SA.

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“ - LFFQ ZPVS FZFT PQFO, UIF GPSDFT BU QMBZ PO UIJT FBSUIMZ GPMMS BSF OVNFSPVT BOE VOZJFMEJOH- UIFZ DPNF GPS ZPVS TPVM - ”

 

[Chthonian_ 99]

"They come for your soul." an elder scholar ruminates with bated breath

Edited March 14, 2022 by Yakith_Lizard