11-27-2018, 09:19 AM
[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"]Innocence is like a jewel. Beautiful, mesmerizing, but fading over time. Gracefully, naturally: innocence will chip away. Star dust glistens in a pitiful heap, remnants sparkling until end game. Jewels, however, are fragile too. Eternity refuses to bestow herself upon the beauty of innocence. The youth of childhood can be engulfed by brutalities, vanished and erased if not taken care of. Within only two weeks, Elijah has witnessed a whirlpool of horrors and tragedies – aspects of life that a child should not have been subjected to. Memories come in heart beats, the soundlessness of his working organ, materializing like a silent film. Moments are touched with grey, feelings are clouded and strangled. He is a broken boy, clockwork stiffens him. His eyes have witnessed what should not be seen. His heart remembers them all through the static of his inner workings, the contrasting glow of royal blood through the darkness. Droplets rain past his vision, sizzle to the ground as he recalls the glint of claws, the murderous intent in the eyes of his Marcellus and Luca. Evil seeps into earthly soils, grief is present over mourning faces, pain capsizes his sense of dissonance. Rhythm breaks, music becomes silence. Sometimes wonderland will cloud his glass-like eyes, lovingly draw his attention away. A glimmer of a giggle, a master escapist. He folds his memories into shape, turns them into cranes in hope that they will spread their wings and take flight, soar away to terrorize new lands. There is no room for pain within his perfect world, the universe his soul had yearned for and idealized, the creation of his desires.
And yet retribution is a double-edged blade. There is malevolence behind his ignorance, his refusal to accept the true intentions of his shifting, turning world. The earth is wounded, crying for her salvation, and a pool of sanguine forms around him. He doesn’t hear her screams, ears closed to the wretched sounds, an inaudible hum becomes the epitome of his sins. The thoughts come in haunting. They buzz like a hive of bees, flashing like the headlights of a car screeching towards him. Face peeled back that heavy scarlet drips towards ivory teeth, canines sharp and overwhelming. The appearance of a skull, drawn away, no eyes to be seen. Where were the eyes, where had they gone? Unforgiveable sights, a looming isolation dawns upon him. Without realizing it, a heavenly punishment has struck the young boy whose ears remain deaf to the chaos, the spilling sins that should not have been witnessed. Loneliness fills his emptiness. Elijah should not have seen the unforgiveable. It is the results of his nosiness, his naivety to the darkness that engulfs and consumes without end. Towers crumble but the lonely prince…the stubborn prince…persists. Elijah continues to smile with a brimming sense of optimism, ignoring the poison that spreads within his sacred temple, the toxins that continue to creep and corrupt. It is the kind that still lets him breathe, still keeps him alive, but leaves him alone. He breathes as a single entity, lives as a single soul. He is who he is, he is himself. He is…alone.
The boy sucks in a harsh breath, lungs shuddering at the invitation of cold air. His blue eyes waft over the fragments of a broken seashell, tossed aside in a childish tantrum. Pieces are scattered across his floor, sharp edges merely glint within sunlight, a pitiful and damaged form. Frustrations manifest in ugly, tormented ways. While the action itself appears to hold little weight, it was not what the gods had intended of Elijah. His jewel was a diamond. Durable, charming, vulnerable. Shattered and lost that the destruction of his gems leaves only the glitter of remnants, the light of his life. There is wonder that breathes within him, hope that carries him forward, love that holds him close to his family. And yet part of his wonder has become spoilt, his hope has become tainted with a fatal black.
He is deaf to the ocean’s waves, the sound of air passing through the hollow contents of the shell because he does not know what to look out for. He hears nothing against his ear, an undead muteness from the other side that Elijah had screamed and destroyed the shell - the shell that had done nothing wrong. He was sick of all these lies, he wanted to focus only on the wonder, the beauty of the world around him. He would rather he had... Mama, let’s -… “Play,” Elijah rasps aloud, pressing his head against the door of Junji’s home. He was not supposed to be visiting, attempting to poke around like a rodent. And yet, after moments of silence, eyes vacantly staring at the wood, he finally turns around and leaves with a heavy heart. Instead of walking down to the beach, bitter by the soundlessness of waves, he vanishes into the rainforest with his rats. Elijah has taught his units a few tricks, similar to how a human would train a dog. He had wanted to show mama what he had been up to with his rats, rather proud of his progress, thinking that he would be able to make mama smile and laugh. His favourite one, of course, was the one where his rats would play dead. It worked in a simple manner: the boy raises his wing, flicks it in a motion that resembles shooting a gun, and watches all the rats flop to the ground pretending to have been shot. As Junji was no longer soothsayer, he wanted to show it to him thinking he wasn’t as busy as he used to be. But mama didn't want to be disturbed. He considered for a moment to find Luca, his papa, but he’s noticed that his father wasn’t particularly comfortable with him (of course, he was unaware that Luca was afraid of rats).
Funnily enough, the door that used to cover the outside world from him was now a door that stopped him from seeing mama. He doesn't understand. What had he done wrong? Did mama resent him? Did he disappoint him?
Ah, there they were. There were those feelings again. The sensation as if he were drowning, suffocating within a weightless mass, floating and yet struck with a heavy feeling. It grows on him, sits across his shoulders, holds his head down as if he were imprisoned. He can’t pinpoint the exact feelings, unsure if he wanted to cry or scream but they were there: looming over his frail body. It was another one of those complex emotions Elijah could not comprehend, was unsure how to express. It oozes, thick and heavy, working like a substance that has blocked his arteries. He can’t stand the emotions, wishes he could let them freeze over and stop. Leaves begin to rustle around him, shifting as though they had a mind of their own. Elijah gasps for a breath, counting down slowly in his head as he tries to pull himself back to to earth, remind himself of gravity. His body quivers as the rats surround him, all contributing to an unwelcomed choir of noise. Awful, overwhelming sound. Chitters, murmurs, loudness. It screeches and roars until finally, finally, finally…finally…he lowers his body and blocks his ears, shutting his eyes and begging for silence. When he draws his paws away, no sound can be heard through his ears, he has closed himself off from his surroundings. He is ignorant again. His ears, as he has willed it, refuse to listen to the concern of his company. They are an extension of his being, his will and his desires, and yet they fail to act as true companions, fail to fill the gaping whole that loneliness consumed. They are merely rats, after all, following him no matter what. While they take care of him, he knows it is not the same as a mother or father’s love. With his current age, love is what he needs most.
He must have been so selfish to think that Junji’s words were directed towards him, to think that mother didn’t want him to be near, that he was being a burden. He wonders if it is his fault that the angel had stepped down, pressing a paw against his chest as if in attempt to feel his own heart beats. There is nothing. There is no beating sensation beneath his skin. He considers trying to look for papa again. He is too stressed in the idea of attempting to grasp Junji’s attention once more, unaware that mother was dying and writhing in a pain unknown to him. His throat feels as though it is burning, as if it has become a pit of molten rock, toxicity swelling at the base of his neck. It hurt but nothing like what mama was going through, nothing like what papa was going through. Elijah feels his body freeze up in hesitation, a black bird fluttering before his vision. It stares at him and his rats and Elijah locks eye contact in return, wings raised in a defensive manner. And yet something about the dark- feathered avian feels ethereal, spectral and unreal, like a foggy manifestation – a bad omen. Something told him not to look, not to follow where the creature was trying to take him. It was screaming for attention and it wasn’t until Elijah realized where the bird was trying to take him that he felt his blood drain from his face, an iciness nipping at his fur.
What follows were only pictures, images dancing in front of him, the sight of tears and agony. Something out there must have been punishing him for his ignorance. He can’t even hear his sister’s cries, the expulsion of emotions that erupted from her panic, the desperation. Then his eyes recognize the two figures covered in sickly tar, the thick substance that rolls over their bodies. “Mama…” he begins, nausea filling his lungs, “…papa.” No other words leave him, eyes wide but vision blurring. He doesn’t tremble any more than he has already, doesn’t shed a tear. His eyes are too dry for crying and air has left him, refusing to let him scream. The sensations coil and tremor along his body. He knows they aren’t…dead. They can’t be. Their blood is immortal, immortal, immortal. Words continue to cycle his head, some letters failing to take shape that they are indecipherable. All he is left with are feelings, feelings and sensations he cannot begin to interpret. Emotions that leave him frustrated because he cannot even begin to categorise them. “Wh-why… how… how did... mama a-and papa…?” The appearance of tar is sickening, revolting, horrifying. It’s as if he has forgotten how to breathe, lungs suffocating within the poison of grief, eyes refusing to leave the sight of Junji and Luca. They still -…they still have papi. Marcellus. Marcellus. Of course, Marcellus. But where is papi? Where is he to share in their torment, their tears, their discov -…
Not a discovery. There is no wonder in what his eyes have witnessed, what they have seen. He wants to claw them out, stop himself from witnessing event after event. Maybe if he had been a better son, mama and papa wouldn’t have died. He should have checked Junji’s home, forced himself inside ages ago, he should have been there. He could have helped somehow. He should have...- He doesn’t know of the corruption that had defeated his mother, but hope continues to linger in ways that torture him, it continues to drag on for a painful eternity. Possibilities continue to fly through his head, exist because he was still foolish enough to hold onto his faith in hope. If he had just forced himself home he could have… he should have… “I-Is this our fault?” he manages to ask aloud, voice still weak but suddenly audible to the ones around him. And yet, regardless of anyone’s reply, his ears continue to register no sound. The world is muted around him, the boy unable to hear the words of the ones around him. If mama hadn’t been so busy then maybe… Elijah shuts his eyes, inhaling a sharp breath. “Why did it even have to happen? Is God punishing mama? Papa? U-Us?” He drops his head back, staring into the clouds that lingered through the skies. His lips quiver. “Will they forget about us?”
And yet retribution is a double-edged blade. There is malevolence behind his ignorance, his refusal to accept the true intentions of his shifting, turning world. The earth is wounded, crying for her salvation, and a pool of sanguine forms around him. He doesn’t hear her screams, ears closed to the wretched sounds, an inaudible hum becomes the epitome of his sins. The thoughts come in haunting. They buzz like a hive of bees, flashing like the headlights of a car screeching towards him. Face peeled back that heavy scarlet drips towards ivory teeth, canines sharp and overwhelming. The appearance of a skull, drawn away, no eyes to be seen. Where were the eyes, where had they gone? Unforgiveable sights, a looming isolation dawns upon him. Without realizing it, a heavenly punishment has struck the young boy whose ears remain deaf to the chaos, the spilling sins that should not have been witnessed. Loneliness fills his emptiness. Elijah should not have seen the unforgiveable. It is the results of his nosiness, his naivety to the darkness that engulfs and consumes without end. Towers crumble but the lonely prince…the stubborn prince…persists. Elijah continues to smile with a brimming sense of optimism, ignoring the poison that spreads within his sacred temple, the toxins that continue to creep and corrupt. It is the kind that still lets him breathe, still keeps him alive, but leaves him alone. He breathes as a single entity, lives as a single soul. He is who he is, he is himself. He is…alone.
The boy sucks in a harsh breath, lungs shuddering at the invitation of cold air. His blue eyes waft over the fragments of a broken seashell, tossed aside in a childish tantrum. Pieces are scattered across his floor, sharp edges merely glint within sunlight, a pitiful and damaged form. Frustrations manifest in ugly, tormented ways. While the action itself appears to hold little weight, it was not what the gods had intended of Elijah. His jewel was a diamond. Durable, charming, vulnerable. Shattered and lost that the destruction of his gems leaves only the glitter of remnants, the light of his life. There is wonder that breathes within him, hope that carries him forward, love that holds him close to his family. And yet part of his wonder has become spoilt, his hope has become tainted with a fatal black.
“Did you know that if you put your ear close up to a seashell, you can hear the ocean?”
He is deaf to the ocean’s waves, the sound of air passing through the hollow contents of the shell because he does not know what to look out for. He hears nothing against his ear, an undead muteness from the other side that Elijah had screamed and destroyed the shell - the shell that had done nothing wrong. He was sick of all these lies, he wanted to focus only on the wonder, the beauty of the world around him. He would rather he had... Mama, let’s -… “Play,” Elijah rasps aloud, pressing his head against the door of Junji’s home. He was not supposed to be visiting, attempting to poke around like a rodent. And yet, after moments of silence, eyes vacantly staring at the wood, he finally turns around and leaves with a heavy heart. Instead of walking down to the beach, bitter by the soundlessness of waves, he vanishes into the rainforest with his rats. Elijah has taught his units a few tricks, similar to how a human would train a dog. He had wanted to show mama what he had been up to with his rats, rather proud of his progress, thinking that he would be able to make mama smile and laugh. His favourite one, of course, was the one where his rats would play dead. It worked in a simple manner: the boy raises his wing, flicks it in a motion that resembles shooting a gun, and watches all the rats flop to the ground pretending to have been shot. As Junji was no longer soothsayer, he wanted to show it to him thinking he wasn’t as busy as he used to be. But mama didn't want to be disturbed. He considered for a moment to find Luca, his papa, but he’s noticed that his father wasn’t particularly comfortable with him (of course, he was unaware that Luca was afraid of rats).
Funnily enough, the door that used to cover the outside world from him was now a door that stopped him from seeing mama. He doesn't understand. What had he done wrong? Did mama resent him? Did he disappoint him?
Ah, there they were. There were those feelings again. The sensation as if he were drowning, suffocating within a weightless mass, floating and yet struck with a heavy feeling. It grows on him, sits across his shoulders, holds his head down as if he were imprisoned. He can’t pinpoint the exact feelings, unsure if he wanted to cry or scream but they were there: looming over his frail body. It was another one of those complex emotions Elijah could not comprehend, was unsure how to express. It oozes, thick and heavy, working like a substance that has blocked his arteries. He can’t stand the emotions, wishes he could let them freeze over and stop. Leaves begin to rustle around him, shifting as though they had a mind of their own. Elijah gasps for a breath, counting down slowly in his head as he tries to pull himself back to to earth, remind himself of gravity. His body quivers as the rats surround him, all contributing to an unwelcomed choir of noise. Awful, overwhelming sound. Chitters, murmurs, loudness. It screeches and roars until finally, finally, finally…finally…he lowers his body and blocks his ears, shutting his eyes and begging for silence. When he draws his paws away, no sound can be heard through his ears, he has closed himself off from his surroundings. He is ignorant again. His ears, as he has willed it, refuse to listen to the concern of his company. They are an extension of his being, his will and his desires, and yet they fail to act as true companions, fail to fill the gaping whole that loneliness consumed. They are merely rats, after all, following him no matter what. While they take care of him, he knows it is not the same as a mother or father’s love. With his current age, love is what he needs most.
He must have been so selfish to think that Junji’s words were directed towards him, to think that mother didn’t want him to be near, that he was being a burden. He wonders if it is his fault that the angel had stepped down, pressing a paw against his chest as if in attempt to feel his own heart beats. There is nothing. There is no beating sensation beneath his skin. He considers trying to look for papa again. He is too stressed in the idea of attempting to grasp Junji’s attention once more, unaware that mother was dying and writhing in a pain unknown to him. His throat feels as though it is burning, as if it has become a pit of molten rock, toxicity swelling at the base of his neck. It hurt but nothing like what mama was going through, nothing like what papa was going through. Elijah feels his body freeze up in hesitation, a black bird fluttering before his vision. It stares at him and his rats and Elijah locks eye contact in return, wings raised in a defensive manner. And yet something about the dark- feathered avian feels ethereal, spectral and unreal, like a foggy manifestation – a bad omen. Something told him not to look, not to follow where the creature was trying to take him. It was screaming for attention and it wasn’t until Elijah realized where the bird was trying to take him that he felt his blood drain from his face, an iciness nipping at his fur.
What follows were only pictures, images dancing in front of him, the sight of tears and agony. Something out there must have been punishing him for his ignorance. He can’t even hear his sister’s cries, the expulsion of emotions that erupted from her panic, the desperation. Then his eyes recognize the two figures covered in sickly tar, the thick substance that rolls over their bodies. “Mama…” he begins, nausea filling his lungs, “…papa.” No other words leave him, eyes wide but vision blurring. He doesn’t tremble any more than he has already, doesn’t shed a tear. His eyes are too dry for crying and air has left him, refusing to let him scream. The sensations coil and tremor along his body. He knows they aren’t…dead. They can’t be. Their blood is immortal, immortal, immortal. Words continue to cycle his head, some letters failing to take shape that they are indecipherable. All he is left with are feelings, feelings and sensations he cannot begin to interpret. Emotions that leave him frustrated because he cannot even begin to categorise them. “Wh-why… how… how did... mama a-and papa…?” The appearance of tar is sickening, revolting, horrifying. It’s as if he has forgotten how to breathe, lungs suffocating within the poison of grief, eyes refusing to leave the sight of Junji and Luca. They still -…they still have papi. Marcellus. Marcellus. Of course, Marcellus. But where is papi? Where is he to share in their torment, their tears, their discov -…
Not a discovery. There is no wonder in what his eyes have witnessed, what they have seen. He wants to claw them out, stop himself from witnessing event after event. Maybe if he had been a better son, mama and papa wouldn’t have died. He should have checked Junji’s home, forced himself inside ages ago, he should have been there. He could have helped somehow. He should have...- He doesn’t know of the corruption that had defeated his mother, but hope continues to linger in ways that torture him, it continues to drag on for a painful eternity. Possibilities continue to fly through his head, exist because he was still foolish enough to hold onto his faith in hope. If he had just forced himself home he could have… he should have… “I-Is this our fault?” he manages to ask aloud, voice still weak but suddenly audible to the ones around him. And yet, regardless of anyone’s reply, his ears continue to register no sound. The world is muted around him, the boy unable to hear the words of the ones around him. If mama hadn’t been so busy then maybe… Elijah shuts his eyes, inhaling a sharp breath. “Why did it even have to happen? Is God punishing mama? Papa? U-Us?” He drops his head back, staring into the clouds that lingered through the skies. His lips quiver. “Will they forget about us?”
[align=center][div style="font-size:13pt;line-height:.9;font-family:georgia; padding:8px;letter-spacing:.6px"]" a whole cake with no radiance "
[div style="width:340px;font-size:6.5pt;line-height:1.2;font-family:arial;margin-top:2px;margin-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.2px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"][align=center]｢ ELI ROSARIO / THE TYPHOON / TAGS / INFO / PENNED BY GREY ｣
[div style="width:340px;font-size:6.5pt;line-height:1.2;font-family:arial;margin-top:2px;margin-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.2px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"][align=center]｢ ELI ROSARIO / THE TYPHOON / TAGS / INFO / PENNED BY GREY ｣