Today as I sit here and work on my computer I came to the realization that children are great teachers. See I have a 12 year old son that is not perfect but he is always trying to laugh about everything, smile, laugh or make friends. Watching him today caused me to see that we adults tend to place so many rules and burdens on them that we forget we are jading them to just have fun with life and enjoy. If we all took time to just think about what we are saying we wouild find some of our comment or instructions to our children are confusing or controlling. Let them have fun and interject only when morals or safety is a concern. Just food for thought.

 

The Man awoke with bitter sand in his mouth. As he wiped the sand from his lips he glanced at his hand. The first thing he noticed was his hand was jet black in color and crystalline like obsidian and the blue black flames of rage that dwelled within his heart now flowed over the now transparent skin. It made the skin writhe and ripple as though it was a living entity all by itself separate from the rest of his body. He then realized the bluish-black color and rippling effect had covered the skin of his entire body. It was obvious that the flames of rage that flowed from his heart now had coursed throughout his body. But what chilled even frightened him to his very core was the fact that under the skin he could see a black liquid flowing mixed with the red flames that had been a part of her vengeance and hate. That would explain the rage he feels at the thought of her. The rage was not directed to the image of her but to the thought of how he had caused the death and unholy resurrection of her soul. As his thoughts turned this realization over and over in his mind a low snarl escaped his lips. The snarl became louder and louder until it was a loud piercing roar that shook the very air around him in fury. As he calmed down he glanced at the hand that was stained with blood, the vile member that had committed the heinous offense which had resulted in the death of his beloved. At that moment his countenance softened for amidst the blood there were shreds of the golden love that had bound the Man and his beloved Queen. This sent a shiver of remembrance of her touch deep within his soul that reignited the small spark into a candle of golden flame. This light within his now almost dark soul caused him to put both hands into his face as rivulets of white iridescent tears streamed down his face. He fell to his knees sobbing into the palms of his hands. As he cried the flames of rage and bitterness softened in his heart. At this point he felt a tingling, pleasant sensation in the bloody hand. As he glance at it thru tear streak vision he noticed that the golden tatters started to rejoin themselves somewhat a thread at a time. He had stopped weeping and looked on with amazement at the golden tapestry of love mended itself and became a part of his hand where ever there was blood. Then after his entire hand was covered the mending slowed to a point where it looked as though it had stopped. It has not stooped he thought to himself he could feel it still moving along his skin but at a very slow pace. He then became enraged again and wondered why it had not done this in time to save his beloved from her dark fate. At the thought of her he looked behind him into the sea and saw in the distance a violent maelstrom. He knew that was her following the dead tatters of the tapestry of love to where he was.

My thoughts are in chaos; this perfectly matches my inner spirit. I wish I could find peace but it is not there. The screaming in my heart echoes out into the light of my soul driving it away to replace the light with a dark fire that threatens to overwhelm my senses and consume my very existence with it’s rage. Why does my heart scream? It is not the scream of a mortal wound but a fatal wound, the scream of a heart breaking because of a love destroyed by the chaos that dwelt deep within the heart of the man. That same man now swims in a sea of chaos and death mingled with the shreds of that love in his bloodied hand. If only he had heeded the warning and held love close instead of dragging it behind him to and fro battering it against the unforgiving seas of life. Now the giver of that love is lost in the sea and with out her love as a light she is cold and unforgiving as the tempest around her. What chilled the man even more were the wails, her wails, of anguish and pain that could be heard above the roar of his own madness. But now two small tornadoes had settled on the man and sought to tear the remaining vestiges of love from him so that their mother, who is now a part of the raging sea, can live and go on. The man desires no more fight since he has already lost all that is dear and surrenders the shreds of love in his hand along with the small spark that was once his soul to calm the sea so that he may once again see her at peace before he is consumed by the darkness.

Darkness is all he knows because it now a part of his soul and is inseparable from him. The black fire in his heart now burns with the flames of unholy rage over the loss of the woman. But he doesn’t lash out at her but inwardly on himself, the dark flame and chaos slowly consumes his soul twisting him into its image. The woman sees this and smiles a bitter smile at the man knowing her revenge will be the eternal damnation of the man’s soul and if his mind can survive the onslaught how much sweeter it will be. Aware and conscious of his fate yet unable to change it, yes justice for what he has done will be long and painful. As her lips parted a low laugh escaped them which rose in its crescendo as she reveled in his pain.

As he heard her laugh he started screaming not from the pain but from the mental assault her laugh was doing to his tenuous balance on what little remained of his sanity. He screamed all the way to the bottom of the sea of her wrath.