Snippet #1798208

"Why don't you join us in prayer?" The mind echoed the same question that has been repeated daily, "Have you hardened your heart against us that much?" The answer would always be the same as the question asked "You know my heart has not, Father, but I am not like you, nor of likened mind," and, as always, the speaker would vanish for a time, leaving THOR alone with his own form of meditation.

Understanding, that was his ultimate goal. To understand the boiling rage and hatred within him, and to know why he fears it so much. His mind began to stretch slowly, then, back to when they first gave him sanctuary within the monastery, giving him the barest glimpse of a memory. Cold rain, and lightning crossing the sky, his mind whispered softly, it always seemed to rain and thunder whenever he raged, but he knew that it was impossible. Science reigned over much of the world, and he was gladdened for it. It was there to give understanding of the world, but could never answer his question of Why? Why was he so afraid of an emotion, and why can't he remember anything after he explodes? The questions were slowly beginning to make his head ache, and pushed them to the back of his mind.

He fell into his normal trance, as was taught to him by one of the monks who journeyed there last fall, and began to search for the answer to his impossible question. An eternity of searching within his mind had yielded no clues, and he slowly began to pull himself out of it. He could feel his body slowly awaken, and saw that his legs had fallen asleep, turning them into jello. "Great," came his mumble, "just what I need." With legs stretched out before him, he flopped onto his back, stretching every muscle, trying to bring life back into the cold shell of a body.

"Why do I fear something so trivial?" Thomas whispered aloud, "What is wrong with me?" Taking a deep breath, he began to cough as smoke began to filter into his cell. "Is the cook burning something again?" It wouldn't have been the first time, which had burned down half the kitchen. He gingerly pushed at his door, then retracted it quickly. "Ow," was all he said, and glared at it. "If this is some prank, I'm going to strangle the idiots responsible." During his time here, he's been bullied and pranked on numerous occasions, of which he was always patient with them all. He took their words and beatings in stride, never complaining, and always kept moving forward. He knew that after he smashed his way out of the door, there would be a small group there to laugh at him, some with disappointed features as well. Stepping back until he met the opposite wall, he charged the door, kicking it hard with all his strength and the force behind him, and fell into an inferno. "NO!" He cried out. Looking down at himself, he found to be wearing some strange clothing, and shouted something that felt as though he heard it before, "Akt'han! Esch nomahl vi'il lii'ahn NAHL!" A great gout of flame charged him then, engulfing him completely, utterly becoming a pile of ash.

Gasping for air, Thomas woke up from his position on the floor. "A-a dream?" He wondered aloud, feeling cold sweat blossom onto his skin. "But it felt so real." His head turned towards the night sky, and thought he heard a woman's voice, laughing at his pain.