Post by tylatz on Dec 11, 2009 6:12:59 GMT -5
0079.09.23
What was that old classic line from a book tattered by the years of use and aged to yellowed pages that felt of velvet? I read it so long ago that I can remember little more than the shape of it, robbed of my memories by time. Such a tricky thief old man time is. Capable and all too willing to steal the life of all we perceive by slicing that delicate fourth dimension which we merely posture amongst ourselves to understand. I will trap it someday and force it to divulge the many little secrets tucked away within those intangible folds that are so fleeting, but indelibly so. Still, what was that line in question which time has stolen from my mind and lifted from my tongue? Something about it being good times and bad times at once. That's all I really remember. So what does that line have to do with the current situation? Good times be damned. There is no good in hell and this is hell.
A hell filled with the crackling energy of those damned Minovsky particles, the detonation of bombs with a payload that I can't concentrate enough to even relate an estimation on, the rumbling Earth as war is waged between towering monstrosities fashioned out of man's own image as a demented perversion of the Bible, the chugging sound of machine gun fire echoing between crumbling buildings that really aren't more than random walls still standing in defiance, or maybe they just haven't had the fortunate luck to be put out of their misery, after the heavy shelling incurred here, and screaming. Oh god, there was so much screaming. There were still locals that lived here nestled away into this cock hole of hell that was being brutally raped once again. Their own damn fault, they should have gotten out of here the first time if they weren't willing to die. They aren't the only ones screaming though. I'm sure that some of those are my own lost in the tumultuous tidal wave that some smart-ass out there will probably call the Sound of War.
Why am I screaming? None of this makes much sense, but hell is a superstitious thing and here I am embracing its bosom. If that's possible then everything else makes perfect sense. Even those things armored by a black carapace and eyes burning with an unnatural fire. What the hell were they? No one told me about the Zeek bastards having anything like those monsters. Were there even humans under all of that armor? If there are then could they still be considered human? This is not good. If we can't hold superiority on the ground as infantry then there is nothing left for us. Can the AU continue on like this? Poorly armed, under-manned, and nothing more than a sliver of lost hope shunted into the cold of space to be the prey of these foreign bastards. We will be slaughtered at this rate. What have you done, Des? The African Union is going to be slaughtered if things don't change. Every last man, woman, and child.
“Hm?”
There's a hand in front of my face. It's there one second and gone the next only to come back again. Why is it doing that and whose is it? For some reason I can see the hand and I can see the sky reaching out to touch the horizon of hell, but nothing in between. No, looking down I can still see me. Laid out on a grassy knoll with legs spread wide, one of which is painted red and twisted in a way it shouldn't be able to twist. Someone is touching it. Inspecting it. It is a person I have never met before and maybe the one who owned the hand that waved in front of my face. In their hands is a thick black bandage that they wrap around the shattered leg from knee to toe. This bandage, I know it from somewhere. A light and portable wrap that once placed a chemical reaction is activated within it. In seconds the bandage becomes rigid on the outside and reaches freezing temperatures while the inside acclimatizes to meet the outer degrees at a much slower rate. That's right, it was the latest and greatest out of the R&D crews for the front line of the EFGF years ago.
The person is gone. No, wait, they are still here. They are stabbing my arm with something. I'm not sure what it is, but I don't care. This nightmare has gone on for long enough. I think I'll wake up now.
Addendum of Meanderings of Lost Minds and Souls
Oh laughing skull. How you feast on my heart. Ripping from my chest all that is precious and dear. Oh laughing skull. How I hate you so dear. Tightly I hold you to me for love of how you hurt me. Oh laughing skull. Wont you be mine? Be mine alone in this world of hatred and blood flow. Oh laughing skull. You're a sick fuck, you know. Let me love you for all you are when no one else will. Oh laughing skull. Oh laughing skull. Oh laughing skull. Get the fuck out of my head. This world of blue and green you must travel with stars of blood to guide you. Far away to a day of tomorrow that I see in memories long passed. I hate those days. Days lost never to return. Get the fuck out of my head and travel that path. Chew away those memories. Rip them from me too. Flesh. Bone. Pain. Death. Words that mean little to me. Oh laughing skull. How can you laugh through this pain and torment? How can you survive? What do you know that I don't?