Post by Devastatingly Yours on Oct 12, 2003 5:22:06 GMT -5
I have been asked to post some stories, so here is one...or at least part of one.
I was born the year the sky fell. My mother?s city was full of shadows, most of whom were in the form of fighters. The peace of Atlantis was broken by screams of anguish and cries of horror as the armies of Col Tomas swept through our people. It was a tidal wave of terror, broken only by the occasional resistance from outside. One might ask why it was necessary to bring us to ruin and the answer was as simple as greed. We had beauty, we had marvels and he wanted them destroyed. Nothing was allowed to be as beautiful as he was, nothing had the right to stand above him. To be immortal is to witness everything you love die in a heartbeat. The gods wept as their children fell, wept and could do nothing, for they had not been prepared to hate. To love is to lose, or so the elders say. Perhaps they were right in this instance, for the gods lost all that they loved in that senseless slaughter.
It began when the world learned to lie. The deceiver taught his children that right was wrong and wrong was right. The young world had not seen deception before, and so the gods could not conceive of its existence. The earth heard the lies, felt the hate of his armies and bled with the blood of my kinfolk. Rivers of scarlet blood flowed through the streets, unnoticed by grieving parents, hopeless children. It seemed that all was lost. Death was also new to the infant earth, and it was hated. My mother goddess had become a fighter on the side of life to conquer death, but even she was confounded by its totality. The four made death because of lies, to mend the balance wrent by mortal and god alike. I grew up among healers, all seeking to keep life sacred. This was the path we walked, and we worked the mysteries of the world upon the ills of the world. It seems he hated our happiness, for he brought to our doors despair.
One can not have been there and forgotten the scene, the scent of blood on stone and of burning trees. The people of the earth went back to their mother in those days, and did not rise again. Anme, my mother, the goddess of Atlantis discovered a new emotion that age; loss. When you live eternally, the losses crop up. They haunt your sleep and riddle your dreams with shadows, the ghosts of those whom you still grieve for. Even my dreams are filled with faces of people I saw fall before my child eyes. I did not know death, and so it stuck well in my mind. The people of life and song learned to quiet their cheer and hide in the dusk. The blood, sweat and tears of our people have stained his hands and his angel?s wings red. The battle they fought was fought to dominate, subdue, and to eventually wipe out the remnants of those who served the first gods. Among the twelve sons of his mother, he was the only one hated.
?Mother, why do they bleed?? I asked, in my piping child?s voice.
?They bleed because they die, my child.? My mother answered me.
I looked up into the vast streets of Atlantis, the buildings that dwarfed me, and I mourned their loss. To be a child is to be innocent, but there was no place for innocence in this falling city. My mother carried me through the swollen streets, the streets that have been feeding on our blood. I am frightened of this thing, this new awareness. I was numb with the pain of loss that grips me, as I watched my brothers and my sisters die.
?Do they hate us, mother?? I questioned, afraid to hear the answer.
?No, my darling, your cousin has taught them to kill us. They hate us because they fear us.? she answered solemnly.
I looked around me and saw the pain on the faces of the dead and the dying. I wondered why anyone would wish to kill, and to kill so many. My child?s mind could not understand this needless attack. My mother held me in her arms as she walked, with her children trailing behind her. We entered some dwellings, bringing with us the survivors of this holocaust. As we walked, I heard the cries of the dying and tried to fight my way out of my protector?s arms.
?No, no!! They?re still alive, mommy, mother I want to save them.? I pleaded with her to let me down, desperate to save lives.
?It is too late, sweetheart, they will be gone before you get to them.? She said.
We walked on, ignorant to the bloodshed that continued around us. The walls of the city were splattered a dark red and they bore the flags of the intruders. Anme took us quickly down one alley, and then into another street. She was searching for a place that I had seen before, a place of records. The quality of the houses in this district was lower than that of the place she took us from, but we did not care as we heard the sounds of metal and rope on flesh. The air was full of flies that were feasting on the bodies of the fallen, uncaring of our pain.
Finally, we reached a place of silence. All sound had ceased, and not even the flies could be heard now. I looked up, and up, and up. I saw the arches of a structure already ancient in this new world. Mother hurried into the doorway, and raced down a hallway. We, the children, wondered what she sought. As much as we wondered, we were silent, for we were afraid to be discovered by the soldiers. They were blinded by their fearing hate, and we did not want to give them cause to do us harm.
I was rushed down the hall, in her arms. We passed rooms that had been looted and had everything of value taken out of them. My mother did not care, for she had another goal in mind. The room of records. It was the one place in Atlantis where the history of our people was ever recorded, and the last place men would turn to seeking gold.
We turned a corner and I found myself looking up again, onto a wall that was covered in names. Traced from the beginning of time were the bloodlines of the gods and of men. My name was there, as were the names of my parents, my brothers and sisters and all those I knew in this world. I looked at the wall, and I saw the tracery of names, faces in my mind. All of the blood of the earth lay inscribed upon this wall. My mother spoke a few words in our tongue under her breath, speaking of how she was afraid that our pursuers would find this room. I looked to the wall and found that it was full of names, and then I looked away. When I looked back, I found that a portion of the wall had been wiped clean. My mother ran her hand across it and took away the names of the godsborn.
?Mother, where have the letters gone?? I asked, confused.
?I took them away, dearling and will keep them in my mind.? She answered, her voice full of veiled sadness.
I and the other children pooled behind her heard a noise, and in fear we cried out. She shushed us gently, her face a mask of anxiety. We were rushed through a back exit into the street behind the hall. The sound of feet hitting stone was heard by all, and we ran faster, our speed increased by the knowledge that there were those behind us who would take our lives. Some of the children fell into the fires at either side of us, and I heard their cries. I wailed and screamed, unable to help them. We had to move forward, and not look back. That was what our elders told us, and so we did.
Atlantis
I was born the year the sky fell. My mother?s city was full of shadows, most of whom were in the form of fighters. The peace of Atlantis was broken by screams of anguish and cries of horror as the armies of Col Tomas swept through our people. It was a tidal wave of terror, broken only by the occasional resistance from outside. One might ask why it was necessary to bring us to ruin and the answer was as simple as greed. We had beauty, we had marvels and he wanted them destroyed. Nothing was allowed to be as beautiful as he was, nothing had the right to stand above him. To be immortal is to witness everything you love die in a heartbeat. The gods wept as their children fell, wept and could do nothing, for they had not been prepared to hate. To love is to lose, or so the elders say. Perhaps they were right in this instance, for the gods lost all that they loved in that senseless slaughter.
It began when the world learned to lie. The deceiver taught his children that right was wrong and wrong was right. The young world had not seen deception before, and so the gods could not conceive of its existence. The earth heard the lies, felt the hate of his armies and bled with the blood of my kinfolk. Rivers of scarlet blood flowed through the streets, unnoticed by grieving parents, hopeless children. It seemed that all was lost. Death was also new to the infant earth, and it was hated. My mother goddess had become a fighter on the side of life to conquer death, but even she was confounded by its totality. The four made death because of lies, to mend the balance wrent by mortal and god alike. I grew up among healers, all seeking to keep life sacred. This was the path we walked, and we worked the mysteries of the world upon the ills of the world. It seems he hated our happiness, for he brought to our doors despair.
One can not have been there and forgotten the scene, the scent of blood on stone and of burning trees. The people of the earth went back to their mother in those days, and did not rise again. Anme, my mother, the goddess of Atlantis discovered a new emotion that age; loss. When you live eternally, the losses crop up. They haunt your sleep and riddle your dreams with shadows, the ghosts of those whom you still grieve for. Even my dreams are filled with faces of people I saw fall before my child eyes. I did not know death, and so it stuck well in my mind. The people of life and song learned to quiet their cheer and hide in the dusk. The blood, sweat and tears of our people have stained his hands and his angel?s wings red. The battle they fought was fought to dominate, subdue, and to eventually wipe out the remnants of those who served the first gods. Among the twelve sons of his mother, he was the only one hated.
?Mother, why do they bleed?? I asked, in my piping child?s voice.
?They bleed because they die, my child.? My mother answered me.
I looked up into the vast streets of Atlantis, the buildings that dwarfed me, and I mourned their loss. To be a child is to be innocent, but there was no place for innocence in this falling city. My mother carried me through the swollen streets, the streets that have been feeding on our blood. I am frightened of this thing, this new awareness. I was numb with the pain of loss that grips me, as I watched my brothers and my sisters die.
?Do they hate us, mother?? I questioned, afraid to hear the answer.
?No, my darling, your cousin has taught them to kill us. They hate us because they fear us.? she answered solemnly.
I looked around me and saw the pain on the faces of the dead and the dying. I wondered why anyone would wish to kill, and to kill so many. My child?s mind could not understand this needless attack. My mother held me in her arms as she walked, with her children trailing behind her. We entered some dwellings, bringing with us the survivors of this holocaust. As we walked, I heard the cries of the dying and tried to fight my way out of my protector?s arms.
?No, no!! They?re still alive, mommy, mother I want to save them.? I pleaded with her to let me down, desperate to save lives.
?It is too late, sweetheart, they will be gone before you get to them.? She said.
We walked on, ignorant to the bloodshed that continued around us. The walls of the city were splattered a dark red and they bore the flags of the intruders. Anme took us quickly down one alley, and then into another street. She was searching for a place that I had seen before, a place of records. The quality of the houses in this district was lower than that of the place she took us from, but we did not care as we heard the sounds of metal and rope on flesh. The air was full of flies that were feasting on the bodies of the fallen, uncaring of our pain.
Finally, we reached a place of silence. All sound had ceased, and not even the flies could be heard now. I looked up, and up, and up. I saw the arches of a structure already ancient in this new world. Mother hurried into the doorway, and raced down a hallway. We, the children, wondered what she sought. As much as we wondered, we were silent, for we were afraid to be discovered by the soldiers. They were blinded by their fearing hate, and we did not want to give them cause to do us harm.
I was rushed down the hall, in her arms. We passed rooms that had been looted and had everything of value taken out of them. My mother did not care, for she had another goal in mind. The room of records. It was the one place in Atlantis where the history of our people was ever recorded, and the last place men would turn to seeking gold.
We turned a corner and I found myself looking up again, onto a wall that was covered in names. Traced from the beginning of time were the bloodlines of the gods and of men. My name was there, as were the names of my parents, my brothers and sisters and all those I knew in this world. I looked at the wall, and I saw the tracery of names, faces in my mind. All of the blood of the earth lay inscribed upon this wall. My mother spoke a few words in our tongue under her breath, speaking of how she was afraid that our pursuers would find this room. I looked to the wall and found that it was full of names, and then I looked away. When I looked back, I found that a portion of the wall had been wiped clean. My mother ran her hand across it and took away the names of the godsborn.
?Mother, where have the letters gone?? I asked, confused.
?I took them away, dearling and will keep them in my mind.? She answered, her voice full of veiled sadness.
I and the other children pooled behind her heard a noise, and in fear we cried out. She shushed us gently, her face a mask of anxiety. We were rushed through a back exit into the street behind the hall. The sound of feet hitting stone was heard by all, and we ran faster, our speed increased by the knowledge that there were those behind us who would take our lives. Some of the children fell into the fires at either side of us, and I heard their cries. I wailed and screamed, unable to help them. We had to move forward, and not look back. That was what our elders told us, and so we did.