Post by πΏππ π»πππππππ π°ππ on May 19, 2020 20:29:26 GMT -5
| TRAUMA 271 | RP # 1 | RAZOR BLADE | THEME: "FAILURE"|
"TIRED OF FEELING LOST, TIRED OF LETTING GO.
TEAR THE WHOLE WORLD DOWN, TEAR THE WHOLE WORLD DOWN."
A promise kept.
The words cut across his flesh, slowly peeling away and exposing his inner most weaknesses and fears.
You were warned, boy.
The burning sand tore at his palms as he tried to bring himself to a kneeling position. He could feel it filling his mouth, slowly reaching down his throat and filling up his lungs. He tried to cough, he tried to gasp; but there was nothing. All that was left was the agony of his embarrassment, the sheer weight of the realization that everything he had been told had come to pass. That his arrogance, his humanity, that it would drag him down. That it would hold him back from the truth of his purpose.
You were told not to return.
Chest heaving, he attempted once more to rise from the sands. Torn flesh reaching out, his right clawing at a stone. A single finger, two, extended further he was able to grasp it completely. But there it was, that familiar pain.
Failure was promised, boy.
It was of no use. He faltered. His grip gave way, his muscles filled with fatigue, as he continued to drive into the sand around. His consciousness wavered as his eyes began to close. There was a comfort in the loss, however bitter the taste.
Come back home.
He gasped. The heat was overwhelming, as the flames began to pour freely from his esophagus. The sand poured out like a fountain as writhed in pain and anguish, clawing desperately at the fading world around him. This wasn't it. It couldn't be. They had promised him pain and he had received it. They had spoken of the failures and follies of man and he had embraced them. They were foolish to believe that he wouldn't have to see such revelations with own eyes. They had to have known that a reminder was necessary to correct the path traveled. But still, something was amiss. Something with wrong.
That's when he let go. Once tight muscles relaxed. The grimace that had been painted across his face began to fade. A look of almost perplexing satisfaction replacing it.
What have you learned, child?
He could see the razor's edge drawing close. He could feel the tip of the blade resting upon his chest, once more a lesson looking to be taught in shades of red and gold. But he did not fear the pain any longer, no. He couldn't, not if he sought any sort of redemption.
"Wake up."
Erupting from the sheets, Alexis barely avoided colliding with his youngest child. His breathing was shallow, his body tense.
"There's a monster under my bed."
A soft murmur emerged from the other said of the bed.
"Tag. It's your turn."
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, it took a moment before he could gather the strength to rise. The transition between had been painless, but the heat still remained. He had to put such thoughts away, at least for the moment. Roaming through the darkness, the tiny figure leading the way, it only took a moment to reach her room. She went to reach for the light switch and was met with her father's hand. She looked up, eyes full of confusion.
Alexis pressed an index finger to his own lips, before motioning towards the bed. The look of confusion seem to only grow.
"Can we turn on the light?"
The response was swift.
"The light won't save you."
Her lips began to quiver, her cheeks puffing up up as her eyes began to swell. Leaning down, Alexis placed his hand gently upon her cheek. His thumb brushing the tear away as he pressed his lips to her forehead and gifted her a smile.
"What do we to do monsters, Emery?"
There was no response. Alexis leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the girl's.
"What do we to do monsters?"
She recoiled, running into the darkness and climbing into her bed. After a moment, a response was given.
"We drag them down."
Alexis nodded, offering her a smile as he stepped back through the threshold and into the hallway. It only took a moment for the smile to fade, an emotionless stare taking its place. There was no time for such love or other comforts. Only statements written in kind.
The words cut across his flesh, slowly peeling away and exposing his inner most weaknesses and fears.
You were warned, boy.
The burning sand tore at his palms as he tried to bring himself to a kneeling position. He could feel it filling his mouth, slowly reaching down his throat and filling up his lungs. He tried to cough, he tried to gasp; but there was nothing. All that was left was the agony of his embarrassment, the sheer weight of the realization that everything he had been told had come to pass. That his arrogance, his humanity, that it would drag him down. That it would hold him back from the truth of his purpose.
You were told not to return.
Chest heaving, he attempted once more to rise from the sands. Torn flesh reaching out, his right clawing at a stone. A single finger, two, extended further he was able to grasp it completely. But there it was, that familiar pain.
Failure was promised, boy.
It was of no use. He faltered. His grip gave way, his muscles filled with fatigue, as he continued to drive into the sand around. His consciousness wavered as his eyes began to close. There was a comfort in the loss, however bitter the taste.
Come back home.
He gasped. The heat was overwhelming, as the flames began to pour freely from his esophagus. The sand poured out like a fountain as writhed in pain and anguish, clawing desperately at the fading world around him. This wasn't it. It couldn't be. They had promised him pain and he had received it. They had spoken of the failures and follies of man and he had embraced them. They were foolish to believe that he wouldn't have to see such revelations with own eyes. They had to have known that a reminder was necessary to correct the path traveled. But still, something was amiss. Something with wrong.
That's when he let go. Once tight muscles relaxed. The grimace that had been painted across his face began to fade. A look of almost perplexing satisfaction replacing it.
What have you learned, child?
He could see the razor's edge drawing close. He could feel the tip of the blade resting upon his chest, once more a lesson looking to be taught in shades of red and gold. But he did not fear the pain any longer, no. He couldn't, not if he sought any sort of redemption.
"Wake up."
Erupting from the sheets, Alexis barely avoided colliding with his youngest child. His breathing was shallow, his body tense.
"There's a monster under my bed."
A soft murmur emerged from the other said of the bed.
"Tag. It's your turn."
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, it took a moment before he could gather the strength to rise. The transition between had been painless, but the heat still remained. He had to put such thoughts away, at least for the moment. Roaming through the darkness, the tiny figure leading the way, it only took a moment to reach her room. She went to reach for the light switch and was met with her father's hand. She looked up, eyes full of confusion.
Alexis pressed an index finger to his own lips, before motioning towards the bed. The look of confusion seem to only grow.
"Can we turn on the light?"
The response was swift.
"The light won't save you."
Her lips began to quiver, her cheeks puffing up up as her eyes began to swell. Leaning down, Alexis placed his hand gently upon her cheek. His thumb brushing the tear away as he pressed his lips to her forehead and gifted her a smile.
"What do we to do monsters, Emery?"
There was no response. Alexis leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the girl's.
"What do we to do monsters?"
She recoiled, running into the darkness and climbing into her bed. After a moment, a response was given.
"We drag them down."
Alexis nodded, offering her a smile as he stepped back through the threshold and into the hallway. It only took a moment for the smile to fade, an emotionless stare taking its place. There was no time for such love or other comforts. Only statements written in kind.
