A little something I did for my main character, Gabriel.
Swallow and let infest, that which grows to be claimed with every breath. Fester all that which sits in the pit of Hell, the weight to smother and corrupt. Be that curse which granted me life or the strife which took that of a mother never known. Life. All say to take life, to embrace it, and forget the ever taunting mock of death. Pray tell, give me reason to take life over death.
Let me tell you my story.
I was born in the winter, the strength of the full moon shining high, and knew nothing of what was to call me to this land. Into the embrace of a motherís scream while a brother seconds older was praised. Never known for my existence and forever haunted by it. I was not to be. Cursed by word by a father that would not accept me and by touch never granted from a mother I took from this world.
Upon my first act was death and I had only taken a few moments of breath.
I could say I was never born special, but I know I would be lying. I was never right. Not with the hair that was to be my mark where a twin that held my face - or I held his - had that of black. Brothers and yet, so different. One to lead and one to follow. Give me mercy to remember, too, for bond of brother to hold strong - bear the cross of time and struggle - and be left upon the ground in ash. My brotherís name was Gabriel, the angel that would rise up and be the strength of God. And I was to be his light, Lucien.
Brothers. Friends. Companions. Rivals.
And I had loved him still. Looked up to who would allow me to follow in his great foot steps. He was my God. But let it be a woman to tear the bond of brothers and put asunder in all that which was made. Planned where a wedding was seen for my brotherís crowning, a gift made wife for that which was celebrated in the joining of tribes. On Gabrielís wedding night, his wife took me into her bed. Let there be mercy, Gabriel was not the first to know her. Let there be fire, to know the war that would set the path of destruction of my sin. My brother killed his wife and the child she was to bare. I simply did not know it was mine. I killed the God in me. I killed my brother. So let this curse be upon my shoulder when the murder of all were placed upon my shoulders.
So upon my second act was to take another life and to defy a Nation. Let that curse rest upon me.
Years pass, a world change, and my mind shifts dangerously in knowing what there is that remains. Iíve seen people grow old and wither, and never once does the touch of age grace me. What has happened? Curse for all it is and what it shall be in that last cry of a motherís weeping sorrow. I did not kill her but I was made murderer still. To walk and know no peace until I gave back what I was claimed to have stolen. A life.
Upon my third act, I was no longer a light to be seen. I have forgotten that light. I have forgotten who I am or where I come from. You may call me Gabriel. The letter on my person speaks of that name, so I claim it. Iím a thief, once more - I simply do not realize it.
But let life continue and know never that which I had yet to experience, until it was my own that could not be remembered. It came upon a place named Amethyst, a land I could not fathom and yet, accepted for what it was. It was there that I met Her on a rainy night, taken under her wing when it was the friendship and kindness that was found true freedom from the shackles my limited memory gave. That was when she found me and called me by a name I vowed never to forget. Gwarchediol.
But where kindness can be given, martyrdom set me free and left me without. A lost soul to sail in misery, burning a path in the wake of a broken litany with another of my kind, a bastard son that I could not claim, and the cage beast that was my vow to a band of brothers set together by a brave Elf. A ranger I was to become but tormented, I had remained. For with the life granted to me, a name given, there was still one I could never shake from the depths of a mind turned twisted and plagued. I wanted a single name to be mine and never could I achieve that which had once beckoned me to a place made home by the reach of a candle light. There was no light to be given to me here in the taint I first tasted in the loss I found.
Upon my fourth act, I lost my name and her. We all forget in time, though. Even when a heart does not.
Onward and forward, the mindless go. Through the hearts of land and never one of mine own, to grieve what could not be known. Years into a century, and know not of what Fate was to bring before me. Life to be stolen and returned, all within a frozen land. Let there be holes unseen, an emptiness never noticed, but taken upon the shoulders of one so small that held the ocean blue eyes to see what was lost.
Upon my fifth act, I gained my heart with the laughter of a coyote, the name of a Puppy, and married.
Let life be what it is, what it creates, and be the blind man that does not see the change of the world. Blind I was, happy regardless, to that which twist and turns in all ways. I won in my own right and took what was granted to me in the role wished, desired in all ways. But still the fool to think nothing was to change. Everything changes and yet, history repeats in what states well that which remains a curse. Life for a life, and find every violence for what Iíd do to simply change it. I could not stop the coming of my fate. Of her fate. Of ours.
Madness dwells in even the most cherished of minds and stakes claim, to twist where it settles most deep, and corrupt where one would think guarded. Darkness stole that which was wanted and in a moment where my eyes glimpse that of everything, and nothing at all - my mind held no manner to cope with what was witnessed. Even in an act to protect all that I called mine.
Upon my sixth act, I lost my coyote, our dreams, and all memory to be known. I found rage once more in the twisted eyes of the Wyrm.
Where a dream ends and nightmares begin, the hole left brought the storms of twisted darkness. I found forgotten rage and met it with a sanity lacking. Changed. Turned darker, colder, and heartless upon a world that would find nothing but the same. Let the invention of the light bulb come to pass, cars evolve and change, and the phone turn into the portable cell phone. Life itself made to be rushed, callous, and cold. I drowned in this rush and washed away in a haze of hate. Rage.
But let me never forget what was left behind. What was made new. A face glimpsed at and found in the spirit as native as herself, she came upon my life unexpectedly and without taint. Of the Earth and Mother, her creation sang, and with her songs brought the slow turnÖ
Upon my seventh act, I abandoned her in the mercy to see her safe and bare witness to what I lose with remaining gone. I hold no claim of her when all could believe I never cared. Let so many believe what was my own selfish nature when in the loss, I find truth. For the truth shall show me a Fate I could not see before without opening my eyes to my own life. I remember now.
Repeat and find itself again, the greet of laughter and that madness that stains. Life forgotten. Life returned. Let it all burn away and still dwell on that which haunts in the haze of nightmares. For that which is forgotten, if never truly lost. Found in the heart of howled rage and voice, to know nothing of what there was and could ever be.
History shall always repeat itself. I could not stay gone. I could not keep well enough alone. I cannot run from the obsession of memories to the present of reality. I knew the face once, found the dangle of a jewel gifted in a time long since past, but only know that memories ring the clarity of what I could not see before now. I cannot help to feel I have run from what was always mine and yet, never can I forget what I have done in the process to turn everything away. I wish to claim, to hold, to possess, but to ultimately cherish - and know that I have no right to have any longer.
Upon my eighth act, I returned and attempt what I knew I had no right to have. So in this, I remain at war with non other than myself. I am here to undo my wrongs.
I wish for there never to be a ninth act when it is in the past, that which comes to haunt and tease, and know that this gift - this curse - is mine to have. Insanity. My end becomes my beginning. I cannot go back now.