I left my faith on the kitchen floor.
It was many years ago, and its passing was as anticlimactic as I expected it to be. It crashed to the linoleum, burned with soundless fury and promptly withered away to dust. The dust was kicked up, settling on every crisp white appliance of the kitchen, dirtying them. I took to scrubbing sixteen years of mold from underneath my fingernails. Religion clung to the grout, and I scrubbed at it until it was bleeding and raw. Its stains are stubborn, and I am just a fleeting memory in the history of blood.
I am no match for its institution, and it will swallow me.
About Me
- D.Marciniak
- A recent graduate of CCAD, I am an illustrator & designer with interest in music & tattooing.
All the artwork you see in my blog belongs to me, DMarciniak. You are not authorized to use artwork contained here. Thank You.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Old Provenance stuff
DEMON!
It was five years before I could bear to move from the fetal coil I was in. It took that long before the silence deafened any other sound or thought. Five years in the field of sinners whose curse was silence. My favorite place in hell, where thousands sat crossed-legged with gaping mouths, so close to each other, but completely alone. A crowd of a thousand lonely souls.
Five years it took to make the trauma bearable.
My hurt was too deep; I couldn’t forget it. Only time would be able to lessen it, but it was something that could never fully heal. So I did what most did when irreparable pain was done to them. I swore I would repay him tenfold for the atrocities he performed on my body and soul.
Damaged beyond repair, I went into my next life, started on a path that would continue to descend into suicidal depression. I had always tread on the edge, and this pushed me over. I would blaze into the 16th century, a slave to my anger. It would take almost a hundred years for the pain to dull to a throbbing, the anger to cool so I could think rationally, and the constant anxiety and fear at even my own shadow to abate. Another hundred before I would willingly let anyone touch me, and over two hundred years before I let someone I loved kiss me.
All the while I searched for the bastard who tortured me, raped me, and murdered me.
****
With any family, there are always relatives you wish you weren’t related to, be it brothers, sisters, or cousins. With demons, it was the same, but this family was some 120 million strong. Sharing the same Father, every demon differed only slightly from the next individual before evolution dictated the change from loose clans to established species. There’s even subspecies, and what could be considered ‘cross-breeds’ if it weren’t for the fact that absolutely no procreation has occurred in four billion years. The 120 million individuals were spread across twenty-seven established species, with only 18 species being able to inhabit earth in some form.
Certain things such as this could never be forgotten, as much as he tried. From incarnation to incarnation, the amount of subconscious or involuntary information grew.
What he hated even more was that he had to deal with human relatives, in addition to his demonic brethren, some of which were as slimy and corrupt as some of the species. He hid his distaste under proper pompous etiquette as he stared as his uncle, thinking that he wasn’t that far off from a Greater Vermis. He had more respect for the Vermis though, because at least they didn’t try to hide what they were. He was almost wishing that a Vermis would do what a Vermis does best, and rid him of his unsavory uncle. Then he could easily get rid of the Vermis on his own time and be relived of both pests and have fun in the process.
He always hated the clanking of utensils against dishes, the scratching and squealing hurt his sensitive ears and made him wince. But all of his self control could not stop him from making the most unpleasant face as his engagement was announced.
Caecus almost choked on his food. He was twenty years of age, his twenty-first birthday coming up very soon. He knew that nobles in the 1500s married young, but he still wasn’t expecting it so soon. Much less, he would have to be married to a female. His older brother had gone off and become a Cardinal, and he was left to marry to carry on the family name and strengthen good standings with the other noble families. Just as well, his plans to leave have become expedited.
The thought of having to bed a female, touch a female, bear a child... caused him to feel sick, so he took a lull in conversation as an opportunity to excuse himself from the table.
She would be younger than him, and in addition, someone he’s never met before. The marriage would be in name only; he was just hoping that she wouldn’t be interested in getting to know each other before he was able to leave.
He banished those thoughts to the back of his mind, no sense worrying about something he couldn’t do anything about for the time being.
+JUMP IN TIMMMMME+
He waved his hand as if to dispel the nagging voice. He knew it was a futile matter, but he couldn’t stop it either way. He uttered Latin to the voice, knowing that all spiritual beings spoke the language of God.
“Leave me be, Whistler. Its useless to tempt another demon, go waste your efforts elsewhere.”
“Apologies, Brother. You hide well among the humans, I did not recognize you.”
And off the Whistler went, leaving him to the quiet of the courtyard once again.
The remaining nine species were demons that could only live out their existence in Hell, and as far as their time on earth went, they only had the ability to affect the conscious. The Whistlers could be rather harmless most times, but their effect has been deadly on more damaged individuals. They sometimes seemed to humanity as spirits, whispering temptations and urging in human’s ears, though they were little more than a nagging at the back of the mind.
It was five years before I could bear to move from the fetal coil I was in. It took that long before the silence deafened any other sound or thought. Five years in the field of sinners whose curse was silence. My favorite place in hell, where thousands sat crossed-legged with gaping mouths, so close to each other, but completely alone. A crowd of a thousand lonely souls.
Five years it took to make the trauma bearable.
My hurt was too deep; I couldn’t forget it. Only time would be able to lessen it, but it was something that could never fully heal. So I did what most did when irreparable pain was done to them. I swore I would repay him tenfold for the atrocities he performed on my body and soul.
Damaged beyond repair, I went into my next life, started on a path that would continue to descend into suicidal depression. I had always tread on the edge, and this pushed me over. I would blaze into the 16th century, a slave to my anger. It would take almost a hundred years for the pain to dull to a throbbing, the anger to cool so I could think rationally, and the constant anxiety and fear at even my own shadow to abate. Another hundred before I would willingly let anyone touch me, and over two hundred years before I let someone I loved kiss me.
All the while I searched for the bastard who tortured me, raped me, and murdered me.
****
With any family, there are always relatives you wish you weren’t related to, be it brothers, sisters, or cousins. With demons, it was the same, but this family was some 120 million strong. Sharing the same Father, every demon differed only slightly from the next individual before evolution dictated the change from loose clans to established species. There’s even subspecies, and what could be considered ‘cross-breeds’ if it weren’t for the fact that absolutely no procreation has occurred in four billion years. The 120 million individuals were spread across twenty-seven established species, with only 18 species being able to inhabit earth in some form.
Certain things such as this could never be forgotten, as much as he tried. From incarnation to incarnation, the amount of subconscious or involuntary information grew.
What he hated even more was that he had to deal with human relatives, in addition to his demonic brethren, some of which were as slimy and corrupt as some of the species. He hid his distaste under proper pompous etiquette as he stared as his uncle, thinking that he wasn’t that far off from a Greater Vermis. He had more respect for the Vermis though, because at least they didn’t try to hide what they were. He was almost wishing that a Vermis would do what a Vermis does best, and rid him of his unsavory uncle. Then he could easily get rid of the Vermis on his own time and be relived of both pests and have fun in the process.
He always hated the clanking of utensils against dishes, the scratching and squealing hurt his sensitive ears and made him wince. But all of his self control could not stop him from making the most unpleasant face as his engagement was announced.
Caecus almost choked on his food. He was twenty years of age, his twenty-first birthday coming up very soon. He knew that nobles in the 1500s married young, but he still wasn’t expecting it so soon. Much less, he would have to be married to a female. His older brother had gone off and become a Cardinal, and he was left to marry to carry on the family name and strengthen good standings with the other noble families. Just as well, his plans to leave have become expedited.
The thought of having to bed a female, touch a female, bear a child... caused him to feel sick, so he took a lull in conversation as an opportunity to excuse himself from the table.
She would be younger than him, and in addition, someone he’s never met before. The marriage would be in name only; he was just hoping that she wouldn’t be interested in getting to know each other before he was able to leave.
He banished those thoughts to the back of his mind, no sense worrying about something he couldn’t do anything about for the time being.
+JUMP IN TIMMMMME+
He waved his hand as if to dispel the nagging voice. He knew it was a futile matter, but he couldn’t stop it either way. He uttered Latin to the voice, knowing that all spiritual beings spoke the language of God.
“Leave me be, Whistler. Its useless to tempt another demon, go waste your efforts elsewhere.”
“Apologies, Brother. You hide well among the humans, I did not recognize you.”
And off the Whistler went, leaving him to the quiet of the courtyard once again.
The remaining nine species were demons that could only live out their existence in Hell, and as far as their time on earth went, they only had the ability to affect the conscious. The Whistlers could be rather harmless most times, but their effect has been deadly on more damaged individuals. They sometimes seemed to humanity as spirits, whispering temptations and urging in human’s ears, though they were little more than a nagging at the back of the mind.
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