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Arturur's Destiny (Short Stories) (IN PROGRESS)

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RabidFox
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Re: Arturur's Destiny (Short Stories) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox » Fri Oct 06, 2017 9:50 pm

Standing in Front of the Door


Translation. If only he could translate himself. That was all that they were looking for. To add sense to his gibberish, to find some way, something, someone... that could open the lock on his mind. They trusted him, they did. But they also had faith in Eugene. They didn't understand just what a demented person he was. Surely, he was pure of heart, but that didn't matter. Arturur was sick of hearing it. Even the most innocent of people could destroy the world. That was why there was a such thing as restraint.

But they were letting Eugene do as he pleased. For the most part, nothing had changed. Eugene was still the most unreliable source of information in Alastair. However... they believed they had finally found that piece of Eugene, that precious piece that brought him together at last with all the other men. He had been a reckless dreamer ever since he was born. Now the people of Wendell had decided that there was indeed a way to control him. And that was by giving him power. Very, very dangerous power. They knew the risks, but they saw no other solution. If Eugene couldn't save the lost souls of the daemon world, then these people would psychologically die anyway.

Psychological death. When the person becomes so overwhelmed by the thoughts of others, that they can no longer see themselves in the mirror. That image becomes twisted by the harshness of reality and they see other people staring back at them and not their own image. Psychological death. It was when a man could no longer separate his ideas from others. He had lost the battle of life. He had given into the nature of the world. He was done.

And the worst thing you could ever do to a person... was make them done.

Arturur had watched, long ago, as Yagrius became a person that was longer himself. Wendell had risked his psychology and lost. It was a battle that they wished they had never started. Arturur had warned them and they thought him ignorant to do such a thing. But in the end, Arturur was right, and Yagrius was destroyed, not helped. Wendell swore to the Prince that they would never question him again. And now look at what they were doing! Once the elders opened Pandora's Box, there was no putting the darkness back inside it. It must be fought and cornered and be made to perish. There was hardly a man capable of doing such a great feat. The great feat of rewiring the minds of the strong.

Sometimes, strength made a person think that they did not need to keep questioning their actions. That their brute force alone was enough to solve any problem. They looked at a man like Arturur, saw the weakest in the pack, saw the omega in all order... and they came to this conclusion that strength must protect the weak in such a way that silences the weak and promotes the unfinished ideas of the strong. If only they could see the gaps in their logic like Arturur, bad things wouldn't happen. And especially not so often.

The white pixie had to do something. He was the only one with enough power to stop Eugene. He hated it. He hated always understanding everything. It was like everyone always had an excuse. But if he were to fix all the problems that plagued this plan of theirs, he had to accept that there was a reason for everyone's behaviour, good or bad. He had to honour truth and wisdom. He had to fight people while always reminding himself that he could not hate. That was the way that it had always been.

He calmly ran a hand through his spiky, white hair. It flipped up as his hand slid over it, and he took a long, hard look at himself in the mirror. This was his face, the face that looked upon Eugene with so much frustration. This was the face that pleaded with Wendell to re-examine their findings. This was the face that contained so much powerlessness.

But he had to. He had to conquer his own weaknesses. Arturur had to be the Prince that never faltered when he knew he was right. It was his duty to himself and his people. It was that honour that was instilled in him at birth, that had been told to him again and again was who he was. And now everything that the palace had built up in him, all the long nights studying if never saying anything, every one of his subjects constantly bowing to his greatness... This way of life had been threatened. His education instructed him to resist, but now he was having this very education undone right before him. They were telling him what to do. That was wrong.

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RabidFox
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Re: Arturur's Destiny (Short Stories) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox » Tue Oct 10, 2017 9:56 pm

Sitting Down Right Before the Curtain Pulls
Arturur's Point of View


Craig had always been there. He was my father. He raised me. My other uncles... they were not allowed the same control. But they did help raise me. However, they didn't have the powers of a legal guardian and Craig hated them. Sure, there was love between the pixie and his brothers. But there was also fear, and that fear lead to powerful feelings of distrust and anger.

My real father... I had never known his name. I had never seen a photograph of him. I knew almost nothing about him. But there was this emotion inside of me that always made me feel like he was right beside me. You could never destroy those intense, painful throbs in your heart when you looked to your side and did not see him. It was the best that anyone could do.

I resented the people who believed in the Headmaster's Illness. I never believed in it. Ever. It never made sense to me and my psychology was more than enough to see through it. I still felt like I could come home at any time. All I had to do was prove it. That or be too miserable where I was. Yet I was happy, and I didn't want to come home. I was afraid of Warren and the people that lived there. I was afraid of all of them. I was afraid of their trusted allies in the Shirotoski.

It was like music smoothly, softly coming out of my heart. All the time. I would stare into the clouds, feeling the wind on my face, and when it rained, it was like I was crying. It wasn't always sad like that—The rain—but it did test my spirit at times. The emptiness you had and the tightness in your throat. Like if you were to utter even one word, you would break, fall, and shatter. It never felt fair. Everyone else had a father. Now Craig, he definitely was a father, but... I could have still said that I was like an orphan.

And now... the moment was coming. The moment would soon be here. My arms would be wrapped around another man, a man that had always known that I was his one and only son. A man that couldn't replace a child like a child could replace a father. How hard did he cry all those years? I did desperately wonder, wishing it wasn't so hard on him. To have had a picture to hold would have been a blessing. To have touched him even once, to have had something that he owned, to have looked into his eyes before my world closed away. I couldn't say that Craig didn't make me happy. I could have said that you go on wishing anyway.

Just a fleeting moment. Just a small window of time. Just the slightest touch. You felt yourself screaming inside. It was almost like you could reach a hand out and feel him. But you couldn't. You couldn't do that at all. What happened was cruel and terrible, though, there was nothing that you could really do. As long as you were afraid of home, you were afraid of him. The gentlest man in the world, the only person that could understand the deepest parts of me that even Craig couldn't fathom. There was this unbreakable tie. You go on being his real son, you go on talking just like him, moving just like him, thinking all the same thoughts. You were his true junior. It was something that even Craig couldn't imitate. And that made Craig cry. And that made me cry as well.

And now... the moment was coming. I would soon stand within the walls that housed me in the beginning. I would soon start to see the long lines of faces that had been waiting forever to lay their eyes upon me. I would go through many difficult trials, all of them would seemingly have no end, and I would somehow win each and every one of them. The world would come into focus, the final test would come, and then he would be there. A face I had never seen before, a voice without memory... and a touch that I could have never imagined. A personality that echoed into the darkness and filled it up with light. Understanding. Knowing. Right there in front of me...

My father.

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