Saturday, April 25, 2009

Where could I start?

I woke up outside the apartment building much changed. There is a weight on my back and as I try to feel what is there something strange I find. Two new appendages, at this new touch my eyes shut tight and I remember distantly of who I am.

I am Felice Nightfire, mentally unstable but mostly harmless. I was nineteen when my mortal life ended. I am much older now but I cannot tell you exactly by year. I am an angel now, though the reason I am back still eludes me. I do not remember a heaven or a hell, simply open area. Not a limbo or a purgatory but something that cannot be explained by words, merely felt... much like my masterpiece.

To know your present and predict your future you must know of your past. Through my own dreams, memories, and reckless counceling I know this. I was at some point touched by the false gods which lead to my instability. My boyfriend killed me because he was upset and more unstable than I. I know that he hit me on the head with a crow bar three times and I was alive some time after he left the apartment.

I had been working on my masterpiece, I was an artist both in writing and visual aspects. I was well educated and perhaps it is that knowledge I gained which the gods were interested in. At about 12 I started having nightmares, I drew them to get rid of them and to live again. The nightmares since have gotten worse over time right until I died, now that I am back they are constant. Though my time in that other place, that open space, has shown how worthless I am in this world. I choose to survive and help others in what ever way I see fit. If it is to steal bread for a family to let them live another week, or to kill the youngest child so they consume more per day, it can be considered equal.

But my Masterpiece, a thing of beauty and horrific fantasy none that any mere eye could imagine. It is Dante's incarnate, Cthulhu's dreams, the Yellow King's wishes. It was neither too large or too small, using every media I could get my hands on. It would consume the soul and senses, I was so close to completion! I just needed more time before I could unveil it... then he came home from work and told me, demanded that I "shut up."

At that time I seemed to had taken up muttering to myself, speaking, talking, rambling to myself about, what anyone would hear would consider, nonsense. It was not nonsense to me, I had to keep talking at that point or else something might have crawled into my brain and taken over, too keep me from finishing this work. I honestly had not heard him when he was shouting in my ear to "shut the hell up."

I felt his breath on my skin so it was then I turned, just in time to see him bring the crowbar, hook first, down to my forhead. It was only the frontal lobe, but he'd hit my visual cortex, I was still able to speak, but all I could do in the moment was breathe. He pulled the crow bar from me and I remember thinking how strange it was that I could feel that sensation. I felt blood running down my front and it was that feeling that made me scream. He yelled at me to "Shut the fuck up." I could not though. My love had hurt me. I was terrified, not of dying, but of the fact he would hurt me so. As I could not stop he struck again. I could hear him crying as well, but my screams sounded muffled. I was face down now, my mouth pressed firmly to the floor. I breathed shattered breaths but still tried to scream. I felt the force one more time and everything stopped but my heart and my lungs. I could not so much hear as I could feel his feet moving quickly about me.

It did not take long but what he did I do not think I will ever know. I have my suspicions coming back to Toxian City now. I have since traveled back to my apartment, nothing is the same. My Masterpiece is gone, along with all of my possessions. The city itself is completely different. I know the year but for some reason cannot grasp how much time has passed. The only thing that seems to be a bit constant is the library. There are new books, new furnishings, but the smell, the most powerful of all memories, has not changed. This is where I feel at home, at ease, this is my new place. I was once welcomed with more than open arms into the Omega Institute by Denethorn. That has since changed and I was surprised to find my memories of my time in the Illuminati would be stirred within me. I have come to remember what a cold heart I have, it is torn within me to serve my duty and to still be what is expected of me.

An angel I will stay, in this city, as long as I am needed. I would warn those who do not know me, and those who think they do. I do not believe I am descended from the Christian God, nor do I believe I have sprung up from Lucifer's Legion, what you see is what I chose to show you. You would not like to see what I am beneath such a thick veil.