Posts

A Brief Reflection On Promises By VaN SHuttleworth

Promises are falsehoods told to the desperate, who have something to lose, by demons with nothing to lose. These promises are made to be broken, delivering the pain that these creatures feed on when the desperate lose all they were so desperate to keep. Still, the desperate, in their desperation, give all they have in trust to these malevolent beings over and over again, begging and wishing for their tears not to be spilled again and again over their faces, still wet from the last despair painted there by the previous painter of pain. So, which course is best? Should the beasts try to discover humanity, or should the desperate simply decide that human decency is just as fictitious as those empty promises? Personally, I have tried to walk both roads but have realised that both are paths of futility that leave you simply screaming into the void. After much deliberation, I have also realised that if I was indeed screaming into the void, and the void was, as all good voids should be, confo...
Post a Comment
Read more

Pitifully Cliché by VaN SHuttleworth

The words I want to say are pitifully cliché. The sentences I construct come out mangled. They come out fucked. I write and write and write, you see, but Still, I cannot set this feeling free. I once stood tall and proud, No longer exiled from the crowd. But now I find, once again, that when the one who let me in Turns to me to throw a stone, I could not feel more alone. Broken by my friend— Defeated, Cast aside, no longer needed. Told to hide my thoughts away Because they’re pitifully cliché.  
Post a Comment
Read more

False God by VaN SHuttleworth

What happens when a god dies? Too soon to tell. How is a god born? They ascend from the adoration of mortals, chosen by those who claim reverence. What happens when a god dies? Too soon to tell. How does a god live? Dictated by the perceptions imposed upon them. What happens when a god dies? Too soon to tell. How does a god die? They fade into the shadows, forgotten by those who once adored them. What happens when a god dies? Too soon to tell. Why does a god die? Perhaps because they feel discarded and obsolete, abandoned by their worshippers. What happens when a god dies? Too soon to tell. Who is responsible when a god dies? Those who once professed eternal devotion, now turned indifferent. What happens when a god dies? I’ll tell you soon.
Post a Comment
Read more

Icy by VaN SHuttleworth

It’s cold. Icy. Slowly, the air gnaws at my exposed skin, just like this icy cold gnaws at my chest. One would think—or perhaps expect—that teeth sinking into flesh would cause severe pain. However, it is the exact opposite effect that brings my heart to the brink of distress. You see, it is the lack of feeling—the numb knowledge of missing cries spewing from exposed nerve endings—that drives this melancholy deeper into the hungry maw of painfully personal and persistent self-loathing. Help. Help! Help? Funny how desperate invocations lose their urgency when they fall upon ears that long ago forgot those pleas might be uttered in tones different from their own. Is the joke, perhaps, on those who spend their energies answering these calls so often that their own desperation is brushed off as tricks of the wind? Or does blame lie lazily and uninvolved across the shoulders of those who believe that the call of wind and misery sound so similar that one could easily mistake them? Yet, all t...
Post a Comment
Read more

The End of Fate by VaN SHuttleworth

Ever since they could, people have argued about whether or not their lives are predetermined. Are they in control of their own destiny? I, unfortunately, don’t have an answer for that. It’s not my department. I’m not concerned with how you live your life—just that it ends when it’s supposed to. For I am Fate, and on that subject, there is no debate. Everyone, no matter who you are, has the same fate: death. You all have your time, and it’s my job to make sure you meet your fate at that time. I’m quite good at my job. So good, in fact, that most of the time, you don’t even know it was me who made sure you ended up where you needed to be—when you ended. The process is simple, really. Whenever someone is born, I add their name to my ledger on the day they will die. Once it’s in there, it can never be changed. How do I decide the day? Well, to tell you the truth, I just pick a day at random. It keeps things interesting. People say Fate can be cruel, but honestly, Fate just gets bored somet...
Post a Comment
Read more