Through the abyss I shall rise

This happened.

The clock had ticked eleven o'clock in night and the great gong of the catholic church nearby went on. and on. and on. I rose up from the bed, grabbed the matchbox and lit the candle that was on the nightstand. The woods under my feet crooked and cricked and made sounds and went louder and louder. There was nothing that could stop the noise. Why do I have to be the one? It's simple and I understand for it shall be done. My choice has nothing to do with it. When I looked up again, I was on my knees, crawling towards the door. I couldn't stop it even if I wanted to. I'm glad. It's a burden. Take me.

Fire. Blazes of orange flame raises through the woods, as a layer of smoke starts to chamber up in the room. I embrace it. The warmth, reminds me of home. It has a certain sensation that strikes me, like the smell of old book or the vanilla sticks. The flames rise higher and I can feel the heat on my skin. The roof caught fire. The fire is spreading. Half of the house is burning. I almost can't breath. A piece of the ceiling falls just couple feet beside me and broke straight into the basement. Are these figures coming towards me? This burns. Shade of a man. Two men. Coming toward me. No emotion. No face. No lips or mouth to define them. No identity. They approach. My skin burns. I can feel it sear against the heat. I can feel my flesh boiling, almost smell the stench of human meat. I can't see anymore. Can't scream anymore. Pain. Agony. For what seems like an eternity. I think it's over.

I thought it was over.

I died 3 years ago, in my wooden cabin on the mountain side. This happened.

Chapter 1, Part 2: Through the abyss I shall rise (Prelude)

16 years later:

There was a hint of suppression in her eyes, as if she was trying to hide something whilst she was looking at me. They say that eyes can't lie, and I'm a firm believer in that. It had been a long while that our relationship hadn't seen much of an improvement. She blamed me and I blamed her and nothing ever got done. We weren't trying to help each other, we were merely surviving a hell that we had brought upon ourselves. A sudden urge grew inside me, the dark monster that had resided inside of me for the last 25 years since that dark night. Nothing ever turned back to the way it was, and neither did I become who I once were. It was all lost, gone and long forgotten. I looked her in the eyes, trying to repel her from me just to be free of her nagging for a little while but I was honestly tired of how our lives stopped progressing.

"That's all I needed to hear from you", I said as I slowly turned my face away from her to imply a time constraint, make her know that I won't be standing here in the moment forever. She looked at me and stepped right in front of me. Her lightly featured face with those big, dark of eyes delving straight into my soul for I believed that eyes are what a window is to a house. Her gaze didn't last long but a tangling sense in my stomach was talking to me. "She knows", I thought to myself. Many times I had thought that maybe it was me who was the problem, maybe it was me who was destroying everything, maybe it is no one else's fault; but my ego always got the better of me and stopped my repentance. After a while, lying to yourself becomes so natural that you start believing in those lies. So had my life been, filled with imaginary scenarios and people, merely a shadow of what actually existed. I had forged myself a new character, a character so deep that even I couldn't recognize my inner self when I looked at the glass. All I ever saw were things moving to and fro, to left and to the right but never the reflection of myself or what I had become. I was a monster that I had created and so, the thing that I feared the most.
She turned away and started walking slowly as if she was waiting for someone to stop her and tell her how much they mean to them whilst taking them in their supporting arms. I lit my cigarette, took a puff as I put my shades down and started walking away. Since that day, I haven't seen her.

The Lighthouse And The Kid, Chapter 1 Pt. 1

Okay let's hit up the sheets and get going with some new writing.

I will probably continue writing whatever I was writing. Imagine this world, where everyone's sins gathered up in a huge volcano and erupted into both their and the innocent's undoing. Yeah, that's intense and that's where this is going.

---

Introduction

‘Suddenly, all was gone behind the wall. There was none, but one.’

They say that humans are adaptive, in a sense that they can coop with any natural or man induced hazard and live through it to tell the tale to their offspring. They can process vast amounts of information through their ears and eyes, then analyze and store then in one bunch of tiny cells and fat that makes up their pathetic brains, yet they barely scratch the surface of what’s available to them and suffice to what they already have. It’s known that humans changed a great deal in natural progress of what was supposed to be of that the universe; albeit slowly, was preparing them for. But unlike the animals which communicated without words, sometimes tens of paragraphs were required in human-speech to express a simple emotion, and even harder so if the narrator tried to induce them in the listener’s mind.
You see, in nature lays a great deal of power, and then those who have the power but without a plan. The latter are a community whose bones are moved by sinews made of greed, bigotry and discrimination, and their wheel of days was but an un-oiled cogwheel, producing more noise that moving and spreading of energy, yet they are feeding a brain only so comprehensive just to be ashamed of its own ways of thinking. These are the monsters who held captive of their power, with bodies packing hate and thoughts of destruction. They are fuelled to set the world ablaze so not only can all fathom their power, but in order to contain it.
Then, there lives an exact opposite to the forth mentioned. Those who live the glimpse of each moment and praise it as it goes by, just like a drop of morning dew falling off of the leaves of a great willow which has bestowed its branches upon a dirty lake, and with small circular waves disrupting the lake’s natural moments of rest. For many more will come that the lake shall gradually take over the living land and suffocate its creatures, for what that is their symbol of rejuvenation can also cast a quick doom upon those who are not prepared to defend themselves against a turn of events.
Not all change needs to be made over time, for some can be instantaneous, just like a barrage of meteors crumbling through the vast empty space, immensely taking a molten form as they heat up in a mission to approach us. It does give us a warning, but escape from certain death can be almost impossible. Change is imminent, its results can be precisely calculated if given the unknown factors, but that’s what makes it so hard to calculate the outcomes of a given situation.
Now the flames are blazing everywhere, burning hotter than deepest volcano that once shaped the Earth that we call home. We didn’t realize that we had brought it upon ourselves.

Chapter one, part one

The Lighthouse And The Kid

A cool and refreshing breeze in the morning, just as you go outside and go for your casual jogging. A sip of fresh, cold water being splashed on your face. A hearty stew, made in the heat and convenience of your oven. The ham and cheese that is stored in the chilly shelves of your refrigerator. These are some small blessings that we don't pay attention to. It has become a norm of life to have everything so accessible to us, that we cannot even imagine living a life with no Internet or cellphones, let alone a world without a freezer. The old saying goes that you never realize how much you need something until you lose it, and that day was way closer than anyone could have imagined.

It was a sunny Sunday morning in June 1994 and we were out of the city for a nice day's out in the nature, enjoying ourselves with some sandwiches, pipe tobacco, a cassette player, bottles of beer and a nice book for each of us just to enjoy and sip the fresh moment while sitting at the river side. Everything was beautiful and nothing seemed to be able to hurt the day. We blasted some old tunes from Johnny Cash in the old Impala as we cruised the long and empty roads of southern California towards our destination. To our sides were vast and green corn farms, farmers in their huge farming vehicles sucking the hay in and throwing out stacked bundles of it, and the sight of a herd of horses or a lonely cow; just every now and then, minding their own business whilst strolling around and eating the fresh grass. As I was glancing out of the window, I pulled the sunblock in front of my eyes, rolled a fresh cigarette and started puffing on it while the beautiful wind swept itself gently through my hair. Life was excellent.

unnamed intro

‘Suddenly, all was gone behind the wall. There was none, but one.’

They say that humans are adaptive, in a sense that they can coop with any natural or man induced hazard and live through it to tell the tale to their offspring. They can process vast amounts of information through their ears and eyes, then analyze and store then in one bunch of tiny cells and fat that makes up their pathetic brains, yet they barely scratch the surface of what’s available to them and suffice to what they already have.  It’s known that humans changed a great deal in natural progress of what was supposed to be of that the universe; albeit slowly, was preparing them for. But unlike the animals which communicated without words, sometimes tens of paragraphs were required in human-speech to express a simple emotion, and even harder so if the narrator tried to induce them in the listener’s mind.

You see, in nature lays a great deal of power, and then those who have the power but without a plan. The latter are a community whose bones are moved by sinews made of greed, bigotry and discrimination, and their wheel of days was but an un-oiled cogwheel, producing more noise that moving and spreading of energy, yet they are feeding a brain only so comprehensive just to be ashamed of its own ways of thinking. These are the monsters who held captive of their power, with bodies packing hate and thoughts of destruction. They are fuelled to set the world ablaze so not only can all fathom their power, but in order to contain it.

Then, there lives an exact opposite to the forth mentioned. Those who live the glimpse of each moment and praise it as it goes by, just like a drop of morning dew falling off of the leaves of a great willow which has bestowed its branches upon a dirty lake, and with small circular waves disrupting the lake’s natural moments of rest. For many more will come that the lake shall gradually take over the living land and suffocate its creatures, for what that is their symbol of rejuvenation can also cast a quick doom upon those who are not prepared to defend themselves against a turn of events.

Not all change needs to be made over time, for some can be instantaneous,  just like a barrage of meteors crumbling through the vast empty space, immensely taking a molten form as they heat up in a mission to approach us. It does give us a warning,  but escape from certain death can be almost impossible. Change is imminent, its results can be precisely calculated if given the unknown factors, but that’s what makes it so hard to calculate the outcomes of a given situation.

Now the flames are blazing everywhere, burning hotter than deepest volcano that once shaped the Earth that we call home. We didn’t realize that we had brought it upon ourselves.

سیگار

شب بود و توی کوچه هیچکس نبود. در سکوت شب خیلی‌ آرام از سمت در خانه به پارکی‌ که بغل خانه بود به حرکت در آمد. به سادگی‌ و چابکی‌ به سمت مکانی در زیر سایه‌ها رفت، جایی‌ که صدای حیوانات شوم شبزیست از بقیه ی جاها بلند تر بود. در سکوت زیر یک درخت شب و روز دیده نشست و با یک دست سیگاری از پشت گوشش پیدا کرد و با دست دیگر در جیب کتش دنبال چیزی می‌گشت. یک شیئ تیز یا خطرناک، چیزی که قدرتش را داشته باشد که او را از این تنهایی‌ نجات دهد. زیر لب با خود گفت، "زندگی‌ فقط یه فازه. دیر یا زود تموم می‌شه." با ناامیدی دستش را از جیبش بیرون آورد و موبایلش را از جیب در آورد تا نیم نگاهی‌ به ساعت مرگ خود بیندازد، اما یک پیغام توجه او را جلب کرد. انسان‌های بی‌ ارزشی که در زندگی‌ او فقط نقش افراد مرده را بعضی‌ میکردند، اما او خودش هم فقط یک فرد زنده بین آن سیل بدی‌ها بود. سعی‌ کرد برای بار دیگر به خاطر بیاورد، خانواده دور، ارزش‌های کهن، قانون مرده و مرگ تدریجی‌. آرزویش؟ یک جای دور. یک‌جا که پول ارزش نبود و نخواهد بود.

مردی از دور دست در غبار شب با یک کلاه شاپو به سمت او میامد. از صورتش چیزی فاش نبود، خودش را از قصد مخفی‌ نکرده بود. مثل اینکه برایش اجبار بود که بگذارد که روحش از دست آغوش روزهای آخر زندگی‌، در عنفوان پیری آسوده باشد. مرد پیر به او نزدیک شد و چیزی زیر لب زمزمه کرد. شنید: امروز برای زنده بودن روز خوبیست.

با عزمی راسخ برای دور شدن از پیرمرد از جایش بلند شد و دوان دوان به سمت دلم جنگل تاریک فرو رفت. دقیقی‌ سکوت، و ناگهان صدای جیغی از روی همهٔ سنگ‌های قبر به حرکت در آمد و دل دهکده را به لرزه در آورد.

Introduction

He felt crazy and wounded when he slammed the heavy door behind him, as if it were a symbol for the sorrows he was carrying around. He always thought he could smash anything he wanted, but this time the challenge in his mind was something more physical than reality itself. The cold wind was quiet and supressed behind the trees seduced by harshness of winter, where he could not hear anything but the nocturnal animals screaming as if they were being tortured to confess a sin that they never comitted. All he had done became nothing, he had no friends, even his family was too far away to care about him.

The old man was waiting on the dusty path in the forest. He took his high-hat off. "It's a good day to be alive, sir", he said. The boy ignored him. He had already chosen his path. As he moved to the edge of heaven and hell, shades of every tree started following him in shape of people that were dead to him, as if god himself was reincarnating their blasted souls from the graveyard of his mind. The voices started talking and taunting the boy, remembering him of his lack of being anything to the world. He hated everything and everyone. Not just the people, but the cause of him becoming the person he had become. As he was increasing his walking pace, he blamed everyone, but it was not anyone's fault. He looked at the black sky; which showed no sign of moon or stars, and knew that it is the last time that he would. One of the spirits, remakably taller than the others, unsheathed her dagger, then a silence followed. A silence so loud, that the raven's unholy screech was overheard for thirteen miles of travelling above the tombstones.

Plague

Some thought are agonizing,

An immense pain, which shadows on the image of reality.

The pain is not eternal I heard, nor is it physical.

Just a trick of mind to make us feel alive, again.

These seeds are like nocturnal animals,

'Dark agents of the night'.

A welcoming silence which I am invited to, choking on reality.

Only the screeches of ravens and footsteps of a fox;

Flappings of an owl, or the mere presence of death,

Breaks this bond, breaks this silence.

When I saw that tired shade,

Which stumbled upon your darkest eyes,

I caught a fever, even thought I initially thought it's the plague.

Now the fever is the plague,

And the ticks of my watch are gone.

Vanished like the smoke of my cigarette disappears within the presence of the thin air,

And joins hands together with sheets of dark night.

The night which represents fear and pain,

Death and suffering.

It's the 'same' thought, which is agonizing.

This distance so far, like the moon and the tide,

Like the noon and the night:

Vanish into each other, cannot withstand each other.

No matter how close they are to each other.

The sun is dead, behind these dark clouds.