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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Zhelir Darkfall on Sat Dec 16, 2006 3:13 pm

I thought this might be kind of interesting to start. Basically, this is for posting works inspired by a song or multiple songs. For example, the second half of one of my pieces, "Sweet Release," was inspired by Metallica's "Little Boy You're Goin' to Hell."

So, enjoy.
STAVE: Commala-come-ki,
There's a time to live and one to die.
With your back against the final wall
Ya gotta let the bullets fly.

RESPONSE: Commala-come-ki!
Let the bullets fly!
Don't 'ee mourn for me, my lads
When it comes my day to die.

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby LordSaladin on Sat Dec 23, 2006 2:22 pm

Ok, after reading this forum, I somewhat listened to my music with the intention of finding some inspiration to write here. When listening to 'The Reincarnation of Benjamin Breeg' by Iron Maiden, from their 'A Matter of Life and Death' album, I had a great idea for some prose. Here it is:

As the man sat on the old wooden chair in his cold, damp room, he rocked back and forward gently. Tears fell down his eyes, as he sat silently, the wooden chair barely holding the man's weight.

He wasn't fat, not at all. He was a very bony fellow, his hair grey and thinning. His skin appeared to sag somewhat, declaring that, at one point in the past, he had been a considerably larger man.

Suddenly his head moved upwards, his cold blue eyes seeming to focus on something in the empty room. The silent tears seemed to become a rushing stream down his face at the moment his head came upwards.

At this moment, the team of psychiatrists and police, watching the man from through a two way mirror gasped. "Is he seeing something?� asked a young policeman.

"Let's see shall we?" Replied a young woman. Her voice was surprisingly soothing and was reminiscent to listening to the most calming of music. She walked over to a small computer unit, and after pressing several buttons, the screen turned on, displaying what seemed to be a first person view of the room in which the man on the wooden chair sat.

"What is this, doctor?" asked one of the policemen, a different one this time, his was tall, and wide, a large belly making him seem not as tall as he truly was.

The young woman spoke once more, "This machine is showing us what he is physically seeing, in a few moments I will make it so we can see what his mind is seeing. That way we will not have to ask him only to be answered with silence."

Pressing a few more buttons, the screen changed view dramatically.

No longer was the room empty, but it was full of what appeared to be corpses, all making noises that seemed evil, mainly unintelligible but the tone gave a great feel of evil.

The watchers were amazed at what they were seeing, many covering their mouths to prevent vomiting.

The man sat in the room, alone. Or at least he knew he should have been alone. But there, in his ear, he could hear the voices. Endlessly they spoke to him, they told him of their sins. They described in great detail of killing children, raping women, torturing, beating and endless inhumane crimes.

He was never able to shut them out, not since they started that day many years ago. That day, he was only young, innocent, but a fatal mistake had doomed him. Now, he was a shadow of the man he was. The large muscles he once had, atrophied to barely enough to support his skeletal form. His eyes, once the object of many a woman's dreams were now sunken into his face, and framed by large, dark rings.

He barely noticed as, once more, tears fell from his eyes. All he was aware of right now was the voices.

Then suddenly, a new voice was heard, distinct from the rest, it was not directly at his ear. The man looked upwards to where the voice seemed to come from.

In his vision were now several corpses, although he couldn't make out if the corpses were male or female, or a mixture, he knew them instantly. A voice at his ear suddenly proclaimed that it was this family - husband, wife, son and two young daughters - he had raped and then murdered, forcing the father and son watch the women be raped and torn apart by this fiend's large knife. The voice told the sitting man of how he then raped the boy and his father. Then he slit their throats, leaving them broken and dying. The voice wouldn't stop his speech as he then explained he was unsatisfied with his results, so doused the house in petrol and the family, and dropped a lit match though the window, burning them and their house.

As the voice told the story, the man sat in the chair felt a great pain in his heart, and tears fell more heavily from his eyes. Looking at the family once more, he felt great shame. In his mind, he harboured all these voices and personalities of people so evil, but he could not rid himself of them.

As he saw the family, the corpses of the family, so horrifically tortured before being killed, the man saw a single tear from one the corpse's eyes. At that point, he understood. In his mind, the consciousness of the man who had taken away this family still lived. And the family wanted him to die, just had they had.

As he looked up, his mouth suddenly moved, "I'm sorry." His voice was weak and broken, unused to creating sounds, his larynx groaned as he spoke.

Falling from the chair, the man stood up. No longer looking at the family of corpses, he looked directly upwards. "Please God; I understand now, I know why you have punished me. My sin alone was enough for me to be damned. But for you to pile this much on my shoulders is only cruel. Please release me from this. Or take me now to Hell, where I know I will one day arrive. Because at this moment, I feel my soul will crumble under this madness." His silent prayer, thought in desperation as he once more sat down, audibly sobbing now, the man gave up hope. He silently begged that something would take him away and end it all. He wished that he could turn back the clock.

The female police officers and doctors al had at least one tear as they watched the images in the mind of the man in the room alone. The young doctor pressed the button which turned off the screen.

Several sighs of relief were heard, coming from the men and women alike. "I think that is enough for us to see." On her cheeks was a thin, but constant, stream of tears. She wiped her eyes, and turned to the rest of the group. "I prescribe for this man to be administered a lethal injection, on the grounds of humanity. In the twenty years since he took the lives of those at the school, he has suffered more than any can know. And more than we could ever torture him, he has been tortured. Are we all in agreement?" The young doctor's voice, still somewhat soothing carried a heavy tone of command at that very moment.

Throughout the group, there were several mutters of assent. Although, regardless of if all had agreed, it was certain that more than half did, so the fate of this man was sealed.

"I will administer the drug," proclaimed the young doctor. With that she left the room, and the others saw her enter the room in which the man was sat.

Hearing a sudden sound, the man jumped slightly, but his eyes didn't move. They were unable to focus due to the tears streaming from his cold blue eyes.

"I'm here to free you Jonathon." The voice sounded like that of an angel's, so different from the evil voices he had heard for longer than he could remember. Slowly, and painfully, he moved his head to look at the voice. He suddenly moved his eyes away at the sound of one of the many voices, speaking of things the man couldn't bear to hear said about a woman with such beauty.

He once more forced his mouth and larynx to move in unison as he spoke. "Please." His rough voice pleaded as he once more slumped against the wall, feeling numb, and a barrage of those evil voices fell upon his ears.

He felt something press against his skin, Jonathon guessed it should maybe have hurt, but it didn't. Nothing did anymore. Suddenly he noticed the room start to become dark, and appear to spin. Slowly the voices became less and less prominent within his conscious self. Darker the room became, quieter the voices. Soon the voices were gone, and Jonathon was met with silence. He felt a sudden smile on his face, but was unsure if it was his mind or he was in fact smiling.

Then, in darkness as black as pitch, Jonathon tried to mumble the words "Thank you." He knew not if the words were audible. His words however were not just aimed at that beautiful woman, but at God. They had worked together to free him from his curse. Before he finally lost all consciousness, he remembered feeling light as a feather. Then all ceased to be. Nothing existed, not even his conscience.

Walking from the room, the young doctor was audibly sobbing, her shoulders shaking. As she walked back into the room where the other doctors and the police were, she looked up at them, a small smile on her face as she spoke "He said thank you."
Please tell me now what life is, Please tell me now what love is... Again, tell me what life is.

Tiko says: Saladin: Damn it, leave my hole alone.

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