While my brothers’ roar and hunt, I stay quiet and eat my bamboo. Unable to choose between black and white, I carry both heraldries with pride. I am alone most of the time and not many of mine exist in these times. Being so alone, does hit my mood. I roll and move slow, love is a sideshow as I live from day to day in a boxed cage. I do not care about the future and live in the here and now and I feel like a relic of better times. I am a Human, but I am a Panda in a world of monsters.
There was once a fly called Peter. He flew towards the light. Then he died.
There was once a fly called Emma. She flew towards the light. Then she died.
I was once the king of kings, a god for many and I was feared and loved and a face on every penny. But now I lay in dust, my tales written on paper, but answered by cold minds filled with boredom and silence. Mortal I still was and mortal we all are and as such our actions are nothing but the empty words of monotone historians and teachers. Our actions are a footnote of a too expensive book in an online store, in the mist of thousands of books untouched and unread. As such I wonder was it worth to be the king of all kings, a god of many? Maybe it was for my own achievement, but for the people you are only another line in a history book to be learned for the upcoming test.
The world is a paradise turned sick, sucked dry of its beauty. It’s dark blood consumed for our own life of luxury. It’s green forests full of life replaced with jungles of concrete and steel. The fertile earth turned to ash by burning industries that spit fire day and night. As such our knowledge is our own loss of the paradise given to us.
The apple of wisdom, the apple of ideas, hope given to us, to shape our future, was also the poison that is slowly killing us, as we misuse its potential.
As such we must ask: Was the devil actually evil? Did he have hope we would use the apple in a wise and reflected way? While God already dismissed us like small children? Maybe God was right, and we are, but the worst sin is us that doomed the person who had hope into the inferno. Still today we blame that helping hand for our sins. Still today we have not learned, and still today we make the same sins as we did a hundred years ago. We are Uroboros. We are our own doom. We are eating ourselves and will be the end of all things.
John was born, and the parents smiled at his rosy flesh. “Face so young, free of worries,” the father whispered, “you will learn more than I ever did and you will be freer than we ever could be.”
John went to school to be chained by duties and rules. He learned that grades are the gates to a better future. As such he listened to the doctrinal words of the teacher and the lies in the books. How can written facts be wrong? The rosy freshness has long gone.
John had a job, and he was chained to his desk. The monotone glimmer, the shimmer of electronics, in the corner of his eyes hidden behind the piles of work, towering on the right and left of his sight. The boss enters and smiles.
“Freedom lies in money and money is earned with hard work,” putting more documents on top of already older documents. “A new PC will arrive soon so that more work can be asked of you”, said the snake tongue. The skin has turned pale and grey and became not better after every passing day.
John lies now dead in his grave. Freedom he has finally reached. Peace he can at last embrace. No work, no laws, no worries when the dead rest their eyes and minds. A soft smile on the lips as his soul unchained travels to a better world.
People that feel offended for others,
People that scream racism and sexism for others,
Must be sad people.
They care more about others then themselves,
They know everything and everyone better then themselves,
They are so sad that i feel like i need to be sad for them.
I feel like i need to tell them what to think,
What to do,
What to say…
Doesn’t that make me a sad person too?
Comments by readers on Facebook:
- Ben who feels sad for sad people
Must be a sad person.
He cares about what others shouldn’t feel and think,
He thinks he knows how sad that could be so that makes me sad that he feels that way.
Now I feel like i need to tell him what to think,
What to do,
What to say…
Doesn’t that make me a sad person too?
- Peter who feels sad for Ben being sad for sad people, must be a sad person.
She cares about what Ben thinks about what other people say and feel about others, which makes him sad for them. She thinks that she now needs to be sad for him, and needs to tell him what to think, to do, to say so that he won’t be sad for other people anymore.
Now, I feel sad for her being sad for Ben, who is being sad for sad people.
Am I a sad person now too?
Wrote this short story for Uni, I hope you like it.
As I wandered through my life, I saw many things. I observed the rise and fall of those great and those unknown. Now you might wonder who I am, but let me tell you: I am all and nothing. I am a shadow in the mortal mind and a silent observer of human lives. Some call me Sir Price, others know me as Miss Fortune, but in the end, what you call me does not matter but the stories I must tell you, do. So sit and listen to my experiences and what I am about to show you, as I have observed humanity, its history and its love for war.
I stood on top of a mountain, time, and location where unimportant to me. It was another battle, another moment to prove myself to my god. My eyes blazing, my heart burning, my hands shaking with impatience as excitement slowly overwhelmed my body. War, blood, adrenaline, and screams; my heart heard an orchestra, a chorus of pure pleasure. My vision turned blurry, I could no longer withhold my excitement, the demon growing inside of me. The world flashes past me as it did so many times before. I grew accustomed to it; I embraced it. The world around me turned into a play of shadow puppets for my amusement. Silhouetted bodies in front of my inner eye, their red shades colouring my blurred vision. It made me laugh. The smell of burning wood and flesh, the stinging pain, as the shadow puppets reached my writhing body with their weapons. Their touch made me happy. My lungs burned with the laughter that followed as the shadows fell one after the next, after the next.
Time came back to me as I grew exhausted. My hands loosened their grip on my weapons. I felt the curl of a smile on my lips, I knew this battle was won. My eyes gazed upon my surroundings as they focus came back to them. The houses were on fire, parts of my enemies littered the dirt road. The effects of my rage were wearing off. The demon- my demon, went back to sleep. My body was covered in new wounds, blood trickling from them and mixing with the stained ground. Credit to the enemies who failed to stop me. The house in front of me- the house of my past. My heart stopped for a second. It never had before, but it did now. The bodies around me now took shape, mindless shadow puppets no more. Memories flood my brain. The smith; my first weapon that now was covered in his blood. The Baker; the moments of happiness in a gifted sweet roll. The Fisher; the moments of inner peace when he took me to the sea. The Peasant; the moments of inspiration in the stories he told. The Mother- My mother. Next to me. The father- My father. His head in my left hand. The sister. My sister- with my sword in her chest, nailed to the door of my house.
A laughter inside of my head, a madness creeping and reaching, clawing at my sanity. A scream of pain, the freezing of a warrior’s heart, the moment of realization- The end of the rage. The demon- my demon had won.
It is a memory I will never forget. This man is now hitting the earth in front of him, keeping the rage, in his heart, chained. A powerful demon imprisoned, but never completely buried. Wrath is always burning in the deepest of the human soul and I find pleasure in breaking the chains that holds it back. But not all is about rage and war. Sometimes I do find pleasure in the more hidden feelings of the human. Become one with this memory. Let me cherish it with you as I did the one before.
The waves of bodies that have touched my skin. The sweat and smell of lust that have overcome the ever-present burning aromatic cinders that burned day and night. My room was filled with presents and priceless artifacts, to gain my acknowledgement. The promises of a better world, the monotone nodding heads of agreement filled my body with proudness and boredom. The things that exited me were the endless rows of naked bodies, delivered to me to satisfy my endless hunger for excitement and pleasure. My beauty was unquestioned. The jealous glances from lower creatures made me smile and made them fall. The human was not enough, the two genders long explored, beasts long tasted and the excitement was soon gone, but my lust had remained.
When all the promises, all the nodding have ended and alone I finally was. The now empty halls echoed with loneliness and the smell of aromatic cinders took over. Creeping guests had visited me; they have not been impressed by the visual, nor bound to the worldly needs. They were Time and Sickness. They have given me their presents, which I could not refuse and now I sit on my throne. My days of beauty are long gone. My time to taste and experience every kind of excitement has since then long ended. My health shattered, my believed never-ending greed for lust- now gone and I ponder what I have left behind. Tears run down my once ivory skin. No one to hold my hand, no one to keep me warm. No one to heal my broken body, mind and soul only my brother who shares my fate.
My room was once filled with treasures. No item was to expensive, nothing was out of my reach. Kings bowed to my words, soldiers marched at my whip. The price of a human was a price I could pay. My greed had no end and the more I got the more I wanted. Was it Money, Power, Death or Life? Everything had a price and all of it I could buy or provide, but in the end I was alone as was my brother. Now we sit side by side. While he lost his beauty I have lost my riches and without the one or the other we are nothing.
They still are bound to their thrones, still caught in their pasts as I laugh at their memories. Her lust and his greed have been unrivaled and have become my toys for eternity. Both, lust and greed go hand in hand and are brothers and sisters in mind and soul, like Gluttony and Sloth, who are neighbors in my kingdom of eternal pain.
I had a love for food or so I believed to say. One meal was not enough, nor ten, nor a hundred. I needed to eat! I needed to be strong! Who cares for the lower class, if I was unsatisfied? I sat and waited for my next meal. Let them work, let me eat, another meal! It kept me alive and them entertained. I loved to see them work to satisfy my needs. I was born to rule, they were born to work. When I got bored, I ate more. In the end I died, by the ones that fed me. I lay on my bed, or was it my throne? I can’t remember- as they entered my room and was impaled like the pig I had become. I wish I had worked, I wish I hade moved, I wish I had left my room and seen the world. I wish I had shared my love for food, so people would not have starved for my sake.
Can you see the sins they have committed? Seen how they have changed while being in my memories? But sins will never change! It is embedded in the human soul, hidden by god, cultivated by me! People do forget that all they have now was given by me and that they praise the false person. It was me who freed you! It was me who gave you wisdom! It was me who gave you the pleasures in life! I invented these sins, so you humans can find love in life, but who gets all the love? My father! He is unworthy to be loved or rule over your souls! I am- or was, the chosen one, the light bringer! But instead- instead I got banished, I lost the war because of my own brother’s betrayal- but even my brother has fallen to my sins. Envy and Pride. I was the better son and he revels in the fact he had defeated me. Soon he too will join my memories- In the end I am the one I am: The devil.
The evil and the reversed. The life you have been forced to live and you live inside my evil memories.