Post by Mech-Ana on Jul 17, 2014 15:14:58 GMT -5
And shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation.
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The noise ticks almost like a clock in the back of my mind... Is it my mind? IT's hard to tell, part of me thinks I can't recall who I am entirely and another part of me doesn't think at all, as a matter of fact... There seems to be a part missing, or parts, or all - what was it I was trying to remember?
The ticking... Like a clock... Keeping time. But it has no meaning here, just a beat between the lights before another piece fades... I'm sure I’d be afraid, if I could remember what that means.
Scott Savage: Is there a problem Miss Valentine....?
Ana Valentine: No I.... I'm just trying to figure it all out.....
Scott Savage: Figure what out?
Ana Valentine: How it all got to here.... from all the way where it was....
Still trying, to figure it out... from where it was, from where I am... it burns, like heat, but cold, the question in my mind that may perhaps not belong to me at all seems to be pushing... like a weight... Choking...
Hands, wrapped around my throat, not now... but before, long back and passed but a pressing memory none the same, this one does not want to fade fast like the others – it wants to stay here with me so it grips, it pushes on and on and one... Choking...
Gasping...
I can’t... Remember? What? What was pushing, hands? No... I can’t feel my hands... It can’t have been a thought of hands... Think...
We have a candidate....
I.... know that voice. Recall it; somewhere in the back of what remains of me, I recall it saying my name... Not now, they think I am lost already.... But a little remains and that little knows his voice... I strain, I try, I want to remember but the effort begins to burn again.
My skin, if it is indeed my own, feels hot as though it’s peeling from my bones, yet cold and hard... like steel... still that sound ticks over in the back of my brain, where his voice, once familiar, disappears into the white light of my eyes...
You feel that? That blood lust rising in you? Hold onto that Ana… They want to laugh at you, to doubt you… It is your job to teach them that you are not a joke. You are capable of so much more than any one of them has seen.
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This place seems very familiar, as though triggered by the voice.... what voice... the candidate. Was he, or was I? Ouch. No. It doesn’t matter.... This place is familiar to the psyche that remains a part of me still – Hills and Woodlands rise in the background and on the floor beneath my feet lies what was once a bright red and white chequered blanket.
Odd, I can recall the taste of the heat on my tongue... A picnic... Gone awry... Why is this memory so important? Why is she fighting to hold onto this one? I feel the sun tingling on my bare skin... Skin, soft... Alien. As though there were still fleshy parts underneath.
A two-piece. Odd... It feels... Yes, odd to feel so naked, but the skin is caramel coloured and warm to the touch and something so foreign to my comprehension.... This memory is hers. The sun is bright and beaming in the sky, white, hot heat, but the welcome kind, rolls over my body... her body...
My lips do not move though I recognise the voice to be mine... This seems to be a valuable memory... It seemed... But... In a flash of white, it is also gone.
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Do not cry for me, when I am dead,
though you may hear my final sullen bell,
spread messages to all that I am fled,
from this wretched world with wretched lives to dwell.
so, if you find this piece, remember not,
the girl that writ it, though I love you so,
Pray I in your sweet dreams will be forgot,
if dreams of me should then bring you woe.
Yes, if, dare say, you look upon my verse,
When I perhaps, am buried deep that day,
Do not, my love, my own lost name rehearse,
But let your love for me, like my life decay.
In-case the harsh world should listen to your moan,
and mock your broken heart when I am gone.
I am haunted and so I do not dream. Have you ever heard things go bump in the night? Heard noises, perhaps a scream, to make you jump... That makes you cry... That makes you fear? Ghosts, ghouls, spirits and everything in between. These things are essential to the horror of our dreams, our nightmares. But for some, they are more real than just a dream, they are the living embodiment of their past, for it is the memories that haunt them.
In reality, ghosts are nothing more than spectral beings. If you believe in the existence of these souls, they do nothing but move a few objects, perhaps go bump in the night and force a few screams from the dry lips of babes. Possessions, psychics, all tricks of the mind, they can make you believe, make you afraid... Perhaps you will even lose a little sleep.... But these are not the souls that haunt me in the darkness.
Ghosts.... If you don't believe then they can't touch you, can't hurt you. Close your eyes real tight and hide beneath the blankets, eventually the ghosts will go away, they say, even the ones in your head. Oh but how wrong the world is, to fear the spectral and the "Supernatural". It is our memories that haunt us, the decisions we should not have made are the ghosts that follow you.
Fact is far more terrifying than fiction, because the demons of your past, the things that really go bump at night, are the work of death itself... And you can only comply to do their bidding.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Some of us are haunted by our past, we hold onto memories... Mistakes... Losses. We let it rule us, depict in our minds how our lives should play out. Others are destroyed by their past, their lives become nothing more than living memories and the haunting, lies in their eyes. But a very few, a handful of us, are driven by these ghosts. You can call it running, fleeing from that which desires to destroy... But I do not flee, I do not fear.
My memories lie in the past where they belong, nothing chases me.... I know where I come from, I know what I have suffered, but I do not care. It does not matter. There is no reason for the coldness in my heart I have known loss, more loss than most will in their lifetime. I have known haunting, I have let the spirits creep up within me and consume my soul and it nearly cost me everything, but now I know... I do not need a past, I do not need a story, I am all that I am now, nothing more and nothing less..
A pure focus, there is no one waiting in the wings for me... No one to weep for my losses, no one to fear for my pain... But there is also no one to hold me back. I will go farther, take it to extremes so many are afraid of... Because I have nothing to lose.
I don't care what has come before, only what lies ahead and what lies ahead for me... is glory.
But all of you, my opponents.... What lies ahead for you, is inconsequential isn't it? Because you have not shed those responsibilities.... You have invited them in.
You will insist that your connections to the world, are what drive you to be better, but they are what restrain you. You cannot give it all, you cannot risk it all, can you?
Who will be there if you fail, if you fall so hard it breaks you? When this life destroys you? ....No one and so you will not let it.
Whilst I seek and desire destruction and judgment, you simply seek security and golden glory.... I commend you in your convictions, but that does not make you any less of a fool... this week, you will all be nothing more than a line of victims, when step on you to reach success.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
You have lost. You have suffered and I am sure, you have grieved. But you have not learned. So long as you let people in, let them hurt you, you will be haunted by the mistakes you have made and the mistakes you are sure to make...
But I do not pity you, those who think they have some superior purpose, those who think they have true meaning in life. If your life was enough, if that were enough, you wouldn't be going toe to toe with me this week... So ask yourselves... Why are you here?
I will never understand people, who wish to live in unhappiness with a smile on their face. You will never be great, you wont be a champion, because you will not surrender yourself to it completely. You will always be half, less than enough...
What haunts you at night that brings you back here... what voices call out to you that you can't lie those boots to rest? What once drew you here continues to draw you now and you cannot walk away, so you exist as half a person, half a wrestler... not more of one than another.
And here I stand, just me, just that ring, nothing more, nothing else is needed.... I know why I am here, I know that I am what calls to me, it is my voice that calls to me in the night, telling me to train harder, go further... push until there is nothing left to push for. And when that day comes, when there is nothing left for me here, I will have completed everything I ever wanted from life.
And you, will still be wandering, half way between two worlds, never achieving.... Never winning.
For nothing now can ever come to any good. - W. H Austen.
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I recognise the reflection in the glass to be my own, as though I am watching myself from behind the screen of a television, but there is no connection – I see her, she is me, the me I believed myself once to be... The me that is gone... I see Ana, I see her speak...
“When I was a little girl, my sister and I would fight constantly... Our lives were a never ending battle of wits and one-up-man-ship. Each of us always wanting to gain something over the other. Many people would ask my mother why she never tried to prevent this... Why she allowed us to compete with one another so vigorously and my mother, she would shrug and say ‘it’s in their nature’. And that’s the thing, we can want to change, we can even try... But eventually, our true nature will win out. I remember a story my mother would tell, me, that illustrated the point so very beautifully, it was called, The Frog and the Scorpion...”
I do not recall the story; I do not recall the mother. I was not born, I was created... And I am held, here, somewhere in the way between.... For they are not ready yet... But I can hear them, the drills, low beneath the beeping...
I can feel the change, liquid swapped out black for red... What once was bone, all broken and in pieces, suddenly becomes harsh, unyielding, it does not break... I will not bend. Your will does not matter... Her will does not matter...
Nothing. I feel, I know... And here it comes, rolling in.... The brilliant white, but in the seconds before is passes, I am able to realise... To recognise... With every flash... They wipe another memory.
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This is the essence of all sciences - which you should know who you will be when the Day of Reckoning arrives. - Rumi
It matters not who you are, your process, your reasoning... For all of you, this is a step a movement... A match to propel you up the card.. To continue to greatness. To titles. To victory.
Once, when she still dwelled within the shell of another’s making, her drive was vengeance, it was reckoning... But now, she is gone from this place, from my mind... There is nothing left of the thirst for retribution... All that remains is steel... Cold. Calculating.
I have no emotions, no needs... One goal, singular. You will all feel the burning antagonising pain that was rained down upon her, when the body was more than a shell – You will all, one by one, feel death, because, like her... You will pray for it,
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It won’t stop, won’t relent... No feeling left now, so cold... I can’t... Should there... be warmth, when my hand touches the other? Should there be recognition.... Acceptance from my body that it is of its own self? I don’t understand... Why... Don’t I feel...?
Alive.
“It's not your victories they remember. It doesn't matter about the pin falls you gained or the titles you held. Overcoming it, that never stops. It will always about the fights you lost, the things you did wrong. History never stays in the past and it comes back to haunt you for all the wrong reasons.... I'm not scared...walking into that ring, nothing fazes me anymore. I have been to hell and back already, had the blood and sweat drip from my forehead, tears blinding my eyes and I still didn't stop. No matter what they throw at me, I will take it down and do it with a smile on my face. This is the air I breathe, all that I am. They think they know about desire... about the aching want so deep inside it can tear you apart.... but they are weak, fickle... This is all that I am.... this is all I will ever be, in my blood.... Why would I walk away? Why shouldn't I get a second chance....? My opponents, the fresh young bodies who will be thrown into the ring with me this week... they are a blur, a nothingness... by next week I won’t be able to tell you a single one of their names... because it is so in coincidental. Victory is all that matters... Victory is all that I am.... and Victory is what I shall have!”
I have said the words before, though the memory is fading, faint and gone... my lips can trace the pattern of the words spoken when they could not be understood... Parts linger, hold on... Like two battling for the possession of one... The human.... The machine...
Two parts of one, fighting from within and yet... I cannot feel the war be waged, as though we are living separately all at once – I am not aware of her, her thoughts and memories are not my own... For I did not exist, I am not one, or whole... I am new.
Shiny.
And cold.
I just want it to stop.... I just want to take a breath.... I just want it to stop just want it to stop, I want it all to go back to how it was, when I knew... when I could keep up. I am so tired. I just want it to stop.....
I just want to take a breath..... Inhale. Exhale. Keep. Breathing. I just want to take a breath. Inhale. Exhale. Push. Try. Succeed. I can do it, I know I can. I just need to breathe, try harder, and Push harder. I just want to take a breath. Inhale. Exhale.
She knows who she is, where she belongs... She can take it off and forget – I am the creation, the manifesto of requirement, so she can cope and smile and live and breathe and go and move along... I do not get to stop. And take a breath....
I don’t know who I am, but my creation... I understand.
The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. Good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant
Like echoes. Like ghosts. Sometimes you can hear their screams. This is real. Wait. No... Yes... This is real and I know that. Because I don't know where I am. But now, I know who I am... I am everything, I am it all. I am the good and the bad... I am the antithesis or purity and no friend of deception.
I belong here, wherever it is. I am not destitute, or alone... I have fought and I will fight, from now for all of eternity.
I am the creation... I am the loss of faith. I am not morality, but I am the decider... The judge, the jury. Where she falls, I stand. Where she oppresses, I accept... The burn is on my skin alone and I yearn for it when all is lost... When all is dark, it is me... And the sound... the ticking.... That releases her from pain.
So. This little girl, it's all about her. Who was she? Or we could just go off and have some adventures. Anyone in the mood for adventures? 'Cause I am. You only live once.
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In the land of Gods and Monsters
I was an Angel
Living in the garden of evil
Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed
Shining like a fiery beacon
It's all the same, love... hate. Inconsequential.
Some people want you to believe that love conquers all, that it is a powerful and healing force. They want you to believe it so you will buy the movies, dream of the romantic notions... Relationships are partnerships... Business ones at that, we all trade something we have for something we want. You want to call it using a person, then fine, I am using her... Using all of them.
But really, I am just being honest about what I want - I am just being the play write in someone else's scene and I know she needs something from me.. It's only what that I am unsure of. So I will keep up the charade, say I love you if I must, but it's only a game.
All the world's a stage and all of that, you know, the lies they tell you to make it all seem OK. To make the fact that you lie to yourself every living, breathing moment, just to get through acceptable. Am I the mirror? The reflection? Or am I all that's real after all.. Some days, I am not so sure - sometimes it feels like I am the pawns in another persons game.. A long time ago I cut my strings, didn't want to be a puppet any more, and yet-
The longer I stay... The more it hurts.
And the more it hurts, the more of the monster I become.
Me and God, we don't get along so now I sing
No one's gonna take my soul away
Now what..? Are you going to tell me now that I am not a real person? Well go on then, spit it out...
Or can you? Unlike the rest of this federation, I know all of what I am and the makings that allowed me to become this way. That's the difference you see... Aana went from being just another whore.... To nothing.
I am the only Savior you have, I am the resurrection and the faith, I am the light and the judgment... And not a single one of you is worth saving... This week, next week it really doesn't matter does it ? You're not going to get the job done, because when it really matters.. You will all fall and fail.
All of you, dredge and the shame of our world we live in.... so what does that make you...? More human than me? Because your heart beats... All you are is empty meat sacks, moving pulsing heat that will create nothing of worth your entire careers...
Useless, by association.
The fact that any of you think you will be of any competition to me what-so-ever is laughable. Insulting, in fact and you, all of you, this week you will pay dearly for that insult. Gone are the bimbos and whores not fitting, not good enough to wear the moniker of humanity... They may not like me, like they like you .
This is the age of degradation, of impurity and 'sex sells'. This is the time when people are desperately searching for any light of morality to cling to.. And love me, or hate we must first destroy the foundations this division was built upon. - You have all been judged and not a single one of you deserves even a breath of consideration.
You will fall beneath my feet. There will be pain, there will be tears... There will be blood.
And you, the pigs in the muck, will revel in it!
You got that medicine I need
Fame, Liquor, Love give it to me slowly
Put your hands on my waist, do it softly..
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I will close my eyes and it will all be gone. She can have it, the shell left behind. My mind no longer wishes to comprehend the ideal of existence – I do not wish to fight, to continue... So I will close my eyes and count to three and then, when they open...
Three.
A mechanical whirl kicks into life as the brilliance of Violet lighting shines out in the dark. The lights move as though targeting, pointed... Laser like. IT blinks and for a moment, there is nothing but darkness... The room is empty, quiet and so very still, It... She, is not supposed to wake yet – they have gone and left her here.
She raises an arm to spy the brace upon it... Tight... Cold... Unyielding, replacing something left behind... Her hands move down her form and shudder at the cool touch of skin on an even colder slab and it is then, that she, and we, can hear the muffled heavy sound of panting.
And her breath feels hot on her face.
She closes her eyes... And again I am forced to look from behind them... Somewhere in the back of my mind, it is her that orders my feet to move – and I am confused, who decides who has control... And when? It matters not, she commands them to move and they do and I am stood, in the light... And my eyes...
Her eyes. Violet.
Violent.
Cannot be working right, for there, on my face it rests, as though filtering every last essence of breath to pass from me, it clouds my sight, my skin... It traps me in within myself and she reminds me, somewhere there, she pushes to wake up, because she understands... So again, I close my eyes...
1... 2.... 3.
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
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The noise ticks almost like a clock in the back of my mind... Is it my mind? IT's hard to tell, part of me thinks I can't recall who I am entirely and another part of me doesn't think at all, as a matter of fact... There seems to be a part missing, or parts, or all - what was it I was trying to remember?
The ticking... Like a clock... Keeping time. But it has no meaning here, just a beat between the lights before another piece fades... I'm sure I’d be afraid, if I could remember what that means.
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
Scott Savage: Is there a problem Miss Valentine....?
Ana Valentine: No I.... I'm just trying to figure it all out.....
Scott Savage: Figure what out?
Ana Valentine: How it all got to here.... from all the way where it was....
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
Still trying, to figure it out... from where it was, from where I am... it burns, like heat, but cold, the question in my mind that may perhaps not belong to me at all seems to be pushing... like a weight... Choking...
Hands, wrapped around my throat, not now... but before, long back and passed but a pressing memory none the same, this one does not want to fade fast like the others – it wants to stay here with me so it grips, it pushes on and on and one... Choking...
Gasping...
I can’t... Remember? What? What was pushing, hands? No... I can’t feel my hands... It can’t have been a thought of hands... Think...
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
We have a candidate....
I.... know that voice. Recall it; somewhere in the back of what remains of me, I recall it saying my name... Not now, they think I am lost already.... But a little remains and that little knows his voice... I strain, I try, I want to remember but the effort begins to burn again.
My skin, if it is indeed my own, feels hot as though it’s peeling from my bones, yet cold and hard... like steel... still that sound ticks over in the back of my brain, where his voice, once familiar, disappears into the white light of my eyes...
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
You feel that? That blood lust rising in you? Hold onto that Ana… They want to laugh at you, to doubt you… It is your job to teach them that you are not a joke. You are capable of so much more than any one of them has seen.
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
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This place seems very familiar, as though triggered by the voice.... what voice... the candidate. Was he, or was I? Ouch. No. It doesn’t matter.... This place is familiar to the psyche that remains a part of me still – Hills and Woodlands rise in the background and on the floor beneath my feet lies what was once a bright red and white chequered blanket.
Odd, I can recall the taste of the heat on my tongue... A picnic... Gone awry... Why is this memory so important? Why is she fighting to hold onto this one? I feel the sun tingling on my bare skin... Skin, soft... Alien. As though there were still fleshy parts underneath.
A two-piece. Odd... It feels... Yes, odd to feel so naked, but the skin is caramel coloured and warm to the touch and something so foreign to my comprehension.... This memory is hers. The sun is bright and beaming in the sky, white, hot heat, but the welcome kind, rolls over my body... her body...
You scared? Big bad Mack Daddy is afraid?
Go on, then. I dare you.
I double dare you.
My lips do not move though I recognise the voice to be mine... This seems to be a valuable memory... It seemed... But... In a flash of white, it is also gone.
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Do not cry for me, when I am dead,
though you may hear my final sullen bell,
spread messages to all that I am fled,
from this wretched world with wretched lives to dwell.
so, if you find this piece, remember not,
the girl that writ it, though I love you so,
Pray I in your sweet dreams will be forgot,
if dreams of me should then bring you woe.
Yes, if, dare say, you look upon my verse,
When I perhaps, am buried deep that day,
Do not, my love, my own lost name rehearse,
But let your love for me, like my life decay.
In-case the harsh world should listen to your moan,
and mock your broken heart when I am gone.
I am haunted and so I do not dream. Have you ever heard things go bump in the night? Heard noises, perhaps a scream, to make you jump... That makes you cry... That makes you fear? Ghosts, ghouls, spirits and everything in between. These things are essential to the horror of our dreams, our nightmares. But for some, they are more real than just a dream, they are the living embodiment of their past, for it is the memories that haunt them.
In reality, ghosts are nothing more than spectral beings. If you believe in the existence of these souls, they do nothing but move a few objects, perhaps go bump in the night and force a few screams from the dry lips of babes. Possessions, psychics, all tricks of the mind, they can make you believe, make you afraid... Perhaps you will even lose a little sleep.... But these are not the souls that haunt me in the darkness.
Ghosts.... If you don't believe then they can't touch you, can't hurt you. Close your eyes real tight and hide beneath the blankets, eventually the ghosts will go away, they say, even the ones in your head. Oh but how wrong the world is, to fear the spectral and the "Supernatural". It is our memories that haunt us, the decisions we should not have made are the ghosts that follow you.
Fact is far more terrifying than fiction, because the demons of your past, the things that really go bump at night, are the work of death itself... And you can only comply to do their bidding.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Some of us are haunted by our past, we hold onto memories... Mistakes... Losses. We let it rule us, depict in our minds how our lives should play out. Others are destroyed by their past, their lives become nothing more than living memories and the haunting, lies in their eyes. But a very few, a handful of us, are driven by these ghosts. You can call it running, fleeing from that which desires to destroy... But I do not flee, I do not fear.
My memories lie in the past where they belong, nothing chases me.... I know where I come from, I know what I have suffered, but I do not care. It does not matter. There is no reason for the coldness in my heart I have known loss, more loss than most will in their lifetime. I have known haunting, I have let the spirits creep up within me and consume my soul and it nearly cost me everything, but now I know... I do not need a past, I do not need a story, I am all that I am now, nothing more and nothing less..
A pure focus, there is no one waiting in the wings for me... No one to weep for my losses, no one to fear for my pain... But there is also no one to hold me back. I will go farther, take it to extremes so many are afraid of... Because I have nothing to lose.
I don't care what has come before, only what lies ahead and what lies ahead for me... is glory.
But all of you, my opponents.... What lies ahead for you, is inconsequential isn't it? Because you have not shed those responsibilities.... You have invited them in.
You will insist that your connections to the world, are what drive you to be better, but they are what restrain you. You cannot give it all, you cannot risk it all, can you?
Who will be there if you fail, if you fall so hard it breaks you? When this life destroys you? ....No one and so you will not let it.
Whilst I seek and desire destruction and judgment, you simply seek security and golden glory.... I commend you in your convictions, but that does not make you any less of a fool... this week, you will all be nothing more than a line of victims, when step on you to reach success.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
You have lost. You have suffered and I am sure, you have grieved. But you have not learned. So long as you let people in, let them hurt you, you will be haunted by the mistakes you have made and the mistakes you are sure to make...
But I do not pity you, those who think they have some superior purpose, those who think they have true meaning in life. If your life was enough, if that were enough, you wouldn't be going toe to toe with me this week... So ask yourselves... Why are you here?
I will never understand people, who wish to live in unhappiness with a smile on their face. You will never be great, you wont be a champion, because you will not surrender yourself to it completely. You will always be half, less than enough...
What haunts you at night that brings you back here... what voices call out to you that you can't lie those boots to rest? What once drew you here continues to draw you now and you cannot walk away, so you exist as half a person, half a wrestler... not more of one than another.
And here I stand, just me, just that ring, nothing more, nothing else is needed.... I know why I am here, I know that I am what calls to me, it is my voice that calls to me in the night, telling me to train harder, go further... push until there is nothing left to push for. And when that day comes, when there is nothing left for me here, I will have completed everything I ever wanted from life.
And you, will still be wandering, half way between two worlds, never achieving.... Never winning.
For nothing now can ever come to any good. - W. H Austen.
..................................................................................................................................................................
I recognise the reflection in the glass to be my own, as though I am watching myself from behind the screen of a television, but there is no connection – I see her, she is me, the me I believed myself once to be... The me that is gone... I see Ana, I see her speak...
“When I was a little girl, my sister and I would fight constantly... Our lives were a never ending battle of wits and one-up-man-ship. Each of us always wanting to gain something over the other. Many people would ask my mother why she never tried to prevent this... Why she allowed us to compete with one another so vigorously and my mother, she would shrug and say ‘it’s in their nature’. And that’s the thing, we can want to change, we can even try... But eventually, our true nature will win out. I remember a story my mother would tell, me, that illustrated the point so very beautifully, it was called, The Frog and the Scorpion...”
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
I do not recall the story; I do not recall the mother. I was not born, I was created... And I am held, here, somewhere in the way between.... For they are not ready yet... But I can hear them, the drills, low beneath the beeping...
I can feel the change, liquid swapped out black for red... What once was bone, all broken and in pieces, suddenly becomes harsh, unyielding, it does not break... I will not bend. Your will does not matter... Her will does not matter...
Nothing. I feel, I know... And here it comes, rolling in.... The brilliant white, but in the seconds before is passes, I am able to realise... To recognise... With every flash... They wipe another memory.
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
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Judgement. Noun
1. The ability to make considered decisions or come to sensible conclusions.
Morality. Noun
1. Principles concerning the distinction between right and wrong or good and bad behaviour.
Death. Noun
1. The action or fact of dying or being killed; the end of the life of a person or organism.
"Even in death, she was beautiful"
Artificial. Adjective
1.
Made or produced by human beings rather than occurring naturally, especially as a copy of something natural.
Life. Noun
1. The existence of an individual human being or animal.
This is the essence of all sciences - which you should know who you will be when the Day of Reckoning arrives. - Rumi
It matters not who you are, your process, your reasoning... For all of you, this is a step a movement... A match to propel you up the card.. To continue to greatness. To titles. To victory.
Once, when she still dwelled within the shell of another’s making, her drive was vengeance, it was reckoning... But now, she is gone from this place, from my mind... There is nothing left of the thirst for retribution... All that remains is steel... Cold. Calculating.
I have no emotions, no needs... One goal, singular. You will all feel the burning antagonising pain that was rained down upon her, when the body was more than a shell – You will all, one by one, feel death, because, like her... You will pray for it,
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It won’t stop, won’t relent... No feeling left now, so cold... I can’t... Should there... be warmth, when my hand touches the other? Should there be recognition.... Acceptance from my body that it is of its own self? I don’t understand... Why... Don’t I feel...?
Alive.
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“It's not your victories they remember. It doesn't matter about the pin falls you gained or the titles you held. Overcoming it, that never stops. It will always about the fights you lost, the things you did wrong. History never stays in the past and it comes back to haunt you for all the wrong reasons.... I'm not scared...walking into that ring, nothing fazes me anymore. I have been to hell and back already, had the blood and sweat drip from my forehead, tears blinding my eyes and I still didn't stop. No matter what they throw at me, I will take it down and do it with a smile on my face. This is the air I breathe, all that I am. They think they know about desire... about the aching want so deep inside it can tear you apart.... but they are weak, fickle... This is all that I am.... this is all I will ever be, in my blood.... Why would I walk away? Why shouldn't I get a second chance....? My opponents, the fresh young bodies who will be thrown into the ring with me this week... they are a blur, a nothingness... by next week I won’t be able to tell you a single one of their names... because it is so in coincidental. Victory is all that matters... Victory is all that I am.... and Victory is what I shall have!”
I have said the words before, though the memory is fading, faint and gone... my lips can trace the pattern of the words spoken when they could not be understood... Parts linger, hold on... Like two battling for the possession of one... The human.... The machine...
Two parts of one, fighting from within and yet... I cannot feel the war be waged, as though we are living separately all at once – I am not aware of her, her thoughts and memories are not my own... For I did not exist, I am not one, or whole... I am new.
Shiny.
And cold.
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I just want it to stop.... I just want to take a breath.... I just want it to stop just want it to stop, I want it all to go back to how it was, when I knew... when I could keep up. I am so tired. I just want it to stop.....
I just want to take a breath..... Inhale. Exhale. Keep. Breathing. I just want to take a breath. Inhale. Exhale. Push. Try. Succeed. I can do it, I know I can. I just need to breathe, try harder, and Push harder. I just want to take a breath. Inhale. Exhale.
She knows who she is, where she belongs... She can take it off and forget – I am the creation, the manifesto of requirement, so she can cope and smile and live and breathe and go and move along... I do not get to stop. And take a breath....
I don’t know who I am, but my creation... I understand.
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The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. Good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant
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Like echoes. Like ghosts. Sometimes you can hear their screams. This is real. Wait. No... Yes... This is real and I know that. Because I don't know where I am. But now, I know who I am... I am everything, I am it all. I am the good and the bad... I am the antithesis or purity and no friend of deception.
I belong here, wherever it is. I am not destitute, or alone... I have fought and I will fight, from now for all of eternity.
I am the creation... I am the loss of faith. I am not morality, but I am the decider... The judge, the jury. Where she falls, I stand. Where she oppresses, I accept... The burn is on my skin alone and I yearn for it when all is lost... When all is dark, it is me... And the sound... the ticking.... That releases her from pain.
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So. This little girl, it's all about her. Who was she? Or we could just go off and have some adventures. Anyone in the mood for adventures? 'Cause I am. You only live once.
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In the land of Gods and Monsters
I was an Angel
Living in the garden of evil
Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed
Shining like a fiery beacon
It's all the same, love... hate. Inconsequential.
Some people want you to believe that love conquers all, that it is a powerful and healing force. They want you to believe it so you will buy the movies, dream of the romantic notions... Relationships are partnerships... Business ones at that, we all trade something we have for something we want. You want to call it using a person, then fine, I am using her... Using all of them.
But really, I am just being honest about what I want - I am just being the play write in someone else's scene and I know she needs something from me.. It's only what that I am unsure of. So I will keep up the charade, say I love you if I must, but it's only a game.
All the world's a stage and all of that, you know, the lies they tell you to make it all seem OK. To make the fact that you lie to yourself every living, breathing moment, just to get through acceptable. Am I the mirror? The reflection? Or am I all that's real after all.. Some days, I am not so sure - sometimes it feels like I am the pawns in another persons game.. A long time ago I cut my strings, didn't want to be a puppet any more, and yet-
The longer I stay... The more it hurts.
And the more it hurts, the more of the monster I become.
Me and God, we don't get along so now I sing
No one's gonna take my soul away
Now what..? Are you going to tell me now that I am not a real person? Well go on then, spit it out...
Or can you? Unlike the rest of this federation, I know all of what I am and the makings that allowed me to become this way. That's the difference you see... Aana went from being just another whore.... To nothing.
I am the only Savior you have, I am the resurrection and the faith, I am the light and the judgment... And not a single one of you is worth saving... This week, next week it really doesn't matter does it ? You're not going to get the job done, because when it really matters.. You will all fall and fail.
All of you, dredge and the shame of our world we live in.... so what does that make you...? More human than me? Because your heart beats... All you are is empty meat sacks, moving pulsing heat that will create nothing of worth your entire careers...
Useless, by association.
The fact that any of you think you will be of any competition to me what-so-ever is laughable. Insulting, in fact and you, all of you, this week you will pay dearly for that insult. Gone are the bimbos and whores not fitting, not good enough to wear the moniker of humanity... They may not like me, like they like you .
This is the age of degradation, of impurity and 'sex sells'. This is the time when people are desperately searching for any light of morality to cling to.. And love me, or hate we must first destroy the foundations this division was built upon. - You have all been judged and not a single one of you deserves even a breath of consideration.
You will fall beneath my feet. There will be pain, there will be tears... There will be blood.
And you, the pigs in the muck, will revel in it!
You got that medicine I need
Fame, Liquor, Love give it to me slowly
Put your hands on my waist, do it softly..
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I don't recognize my life
Who is this soul so weak and paralyzed?
Cold claws raking up & down my spine
I'm never alone, but I'm lonely all the time
This is where it ends, within the empty dark
I'll set myself aflame, resurrected
By the spark...
I will close my eyes and it will all be gone. She can have it, the shell left behind. My mind no longer wishes to comprehend the ideal of existence – I do not wish to fight, to continue... So I will close my eyes and count to three and then, when they open...
Three.
A mechanical whirl kicks into life as the brilliance of Violet lighting shines out in the dark. The lights move as though targeting, pointed... Laser like. IT blinks and for a moment, there is nothing but darkness... The room is empty, quiet and so very still, It... She, is not supposed to wake yet – they have gone and left her here.
She raises an arm to spy the brace upon it... Tight... Cold... Unyielding, replacing something left behind... Her hands move down her form and shudder at the cool touch of skin on an even colder slab and it is then, that she, and we, can hear the muffled heavy sound of panting.
And her breath feels hot on her face.
She closes her eyes... And again I am forced to look from behind them... Somewhere in the back of my mind, it is her that orders my feet to move – and I am confused, who decides who has control... And when? It matters not, she commands them to move and they do and I am stood, in the light... And my eyes...
Her eyes. Violet.
Violent.
Cannot be working right, for there, on my face it rests, as though filtering every last essence of breath to pass from me, it clouds my sight, my skin... It traps me in within myself and she reminds me, somewhere there, she pushes to wake up, because she understands... So again, I close my eyes...
1... 2.... 3.
I may be broken
But I won't fall to pieces
Lonesome & corrosive
The weakness of your secrets
I won't die like I've done many times before
I'm gonna run
Away from the wounds
Of war...
