Post by Shades on Aug 8, 2005 19:25:46 GMT -5
Wrote this last year for my English final, and got 25 out of 25 (thats what the question was worth). C&C plz.
When one experiences death – rather, when one nears the inevitable demise of all thought–there is forever the lingering fear of a long, painful downfall awash with illness and suffering. One hopes to end life conveniently and comfortably, but there is no comfort in annihilation for every termination carries its share of woe, whether it be the intangible suffering of the metaphorical heart–for no one who dies of a cause not of their own choice is completely and utterly willing to leave the mortal plane and those souls they have met throughout the winding, turbulent path of life–or the physical pain that so closely accompanies an illness of the body as well as the tragic results of an illness of the mind. Like any love, the love of life and the love of death both come brimming with their own companions of joy and suffering.
One seems to forget, however, that the trials of the living also come with an end–a fact that lies ignored within the dark recesses of the mind, slowly and silently lulling the senses into a psychological security that society has so labeled as stability–thus, as sanity. When one does realize that life is not everlasting, the playful wish to live for an infinite time–in essence, the wish for the immortality of the gods–arises again just as it does in the naïve imagination of a small child whose innocence remains untainted with the gruesome reality of life and death. Let us not forget there is a certain underlying reluctance in the human psyche to continue living once every purpose in life has essentially drained from the numerous wounds of the heart left by the passing of those held so close. Undoubtedly, there is an extensive unwillingness to live through an endless subjection of a horrid, agonizing affliction of which there is literally no cure–not even in death.
Even those who held a vast amount of power as I once did could not escape the reality that is the cold, clammy hands of those loved so dearly. The silent passing of my own dear, sweet mother brought me to burden myself with the questioning of my own fragile mortality–indeed I realized that my own passing would come in its own time although I did not foresee how or when, which brought upon the errant cascade of doubt within my own life all concentrating on the central idea of what if... Even as I questioned my own fate, I could not forget the destiny of my beloved wife and children–surely, I could not bear to witness their fate nor could I bear to bring my own fate down upon them, filling them with the wretched disease so aptly named as grief.
As my turbulent thoughts brought upon imaginary shadows within my mind, I sought to challenge the inevitable–in truth, to cheat death itself. After countless hours of study upon which I neglected my worried family, I discovered an ancient ritual–I knew it was ancient for the pages nearly disintegrated in my careful fingers–that called upon the almighty gods of the earth. Days turned into weeks as I prepared the ritual, all the while feverishly hoping to succeed in my plan. Once I had committed myself to the spell, I was entranced to finish, forced by some will not my own as the ancient language poured from my mouth as though I had spoken it for years.
Once finished, silence filled the air. A panic gripped my heart–had I failed? Suddenly, a powerful voice spoke to me inside my head and inquired a name, to which I gave, my heart racing with a nervous glee. The voice gave no name for I did not ask it to, and instead, it inquired further as to why a trivial mortal had disturbed the powerful. Apologies, excuses, and reasons all poured from my lips, creating a mindless, babbling fool out of me, although the great god understood my drivel. The powerful voice laughed softly in a mocking manner–"Immortality? I can grant you that–but with a price," he said, speaking calmly as though I had only asked for a simple glass of water. I replied to him that prices were nothing to me as I was one of the richest men alive; to which the voice chuckled softly again before directing me to the place where my gift would be granted–into the very depths a dark forest through which no steed had neither ability nor nerve to travel, and into the deep, dark heart of a dank cave through which no light could reach and no flame could survive–he told me only this, and nothing more.
As I prepared for my journey, my wife pleaded with me not to go, saying that death was not the end of everything, but rather only the beginning–but she could not budge me from living my dream. Without so much as a goodbye, I slipped out of my home one damp and foggy night. I mounted my faithful horse and quickly rode him to the mangled forest the powerful, godly voice had directed me to. I left him at the edge, allowing him to roam free until I would return.
It took me days to navigate through the dark wilderness to find the cave, upon which it took me only a few hours to find the heart. Where was my reward? I asked to myself, to which the voice returned and laughed at me. "Immortality is what you have wished for, fool, and immortality is what I give." I paused before stumbling around, confused and disoriented, before running into a dank cave wall upon which two metal snakes slithered around my wrists, shackling me to the cold stone surface. "What trickery is this?" I yell. "No trickery, it is part of your immortality. Every day, rodents, birds, and insects of all sorts will gleefully inflict horrible torture upon your pathetic carcass, only through which you will survive to the next day, your undead corpse restored. This, and only this, is your immortality." The voice laughed one last time before leaving me completely and utterly alone, accompanied only by a cold, empty feeling inside of me until a disgustingly large rodent bumped into me, to which icy fingers of panic gripped my frantic heart. I could hear several others coming closer, following their comrade, and I could only weep.
When one experiences death – rather, when one nears the inevitable demise of all thought–there is forever the lingering fear of a long, painful downfall awash with illness and suffering. One hopes to end life conveniently and comfortably, but there is no comfort in annihilation for every termination carries its share of woe, whether it be the intangible suffering of the metaphorical heart–for no one who dies of a cause not of their own choice is completely and utterly willing to leave the mortal plane and those souls they have met throughout the winding, turbulent path of life–or the physical pain that so closely accompanies an illness of the body as well as the tragic results of an illness of the mind. Like any love, the love of life and the love of death both come brimming with their own companions of joy and suffering.
One seems to forget, however, that the trials of the living also come with an end–a fact that lies ignored within the dark recesses of the mind, slowly and silently lulling the senses into a psychological security that society has so labeled as stability–thus, as sanity. When one does realize that life is not everlasting, the playful wish to live for an infinite time–in essence, the wish for the immortality of the gods–arises again just as it does in the naïve imagination of a small child whose innocence remains untainted with the gruesome reality of life and death. Let us not forget there is a certain underlying reluctance in the human psyche to continue living once every purpose in life has essentially drained from the numerous wounds of the heart left by the passing of those held so close. Undoubtedly, there is an extensive unwillingness to live through an endless subjection of a horrid, agonizing affliction of which there is literally no cure–not even in death.
Even those who held a vast amount of power as I once did could not escape the reality that is the cold, clammy hands of those loved so dearly. The silent passing of my own dear, sweet mother brought me to burden myself with the questioning of my own fragile mortality–indeed I realized that my own passing would come in its own time although I did not foresee how or when, which brought upon the errant cascade of doubt within my own life all concentrating on the central idea of what if... Even as I questioned my own fate, I could not forget the destiny of my beloved wife and children–surely, I could not bear to witness their fate nor could I bear to bring my own fate down upon them, filling them with the wretched disease so aptly named as grief.
As my turbulent thoughts brought upon imaginary shadows within my mind, I sought to challenge the inevitable–in truth, to cheat death itself. After countless hours of study upon which I neglected my worried family, I discovered an ancient ritual–I knew it was ancient for the pages nearly disintegrated in my careful fingers–that called upon the almighty gods of the earth. Days turned into weeks as I prepared the ritual, all the while feverishly hoping to succeed in my plan. Once I had committed myself to the spell, I was entranced to finish, forced by some will not my own as the ancient language poured from my mouth as though I had spoken it for years.
Once finished, silence filled the air. A panic gripped my heart–had I failed? Suddenly, a powerful voice spoke to me inside my head and inquired a name, to which I gave, my heart racing with a nervous glee. The voice gave no name for I did not ask it to, and instead, it inquired further as to why a trivial mortal had disturbed the powerful. Apologies, excuses, and reasons all poured from my lips, creating a mindless, babbling fool out of me, although the great god understood my drivel. The powerful voice laughed softly in a mocking manner–"Immortality? I can grant you that–but with a price," he said, speaking calmly as though I had only asked for a simple glass of water. I replied to him that prices were nothing to me as I was one of the richest men alive; to which the voice chuckled softly again before directing me to the place where my gift would be granted–into the very depths a dark forest through which no steed had neither ability nor nerve to travel, and into the deep, dark heart of a dank cave through which no light could reach and no flame could survive–he told me only this, and nothing more.
As I prepared for my journey, my wife pleaded with me not to go, saying that death was not the end of everything, but rather only the beginning–but she could not budge me from living my dream. Without so much as a goodbye, I slipped out of my home one damp and foggy night. I mounted my faithful horse and quickly rode him to the mangled forest the powerful, godly voice had directed me to. I left him at the edge, allowing him to roam free until I would return.
It took me days to navigate through the dark wilderness to find the cave, upon which it took me only a few hours to find the heart. Where was my reward? I asked to myself, to which the voice returned and laughed at me. "Immortality is what you have wished for, fool, and immortality is what I give." I paused before stumbling around, confused and disoriented, before running into a dank cave wall upon which two metal snakes slithered around my wrists, shackling me to the cold stone surface. "What trickery is this?" I yell. "No trickery, it is part of your immortality. Every day, rodents, birds, and insects of all sorts will gleefully inflict horrible torture upon your pathetic carcass, only through which you will survive to the next day, your undead corpse restored. This, and only this, is your immortality." The voice laughed one last time before leaving me completely and utterly alone, accompanied only by a cold, empty feeling inside of me until a disgustingly large rodent bumped into me, to which icy fingers of panic gripped my frantic heart. I could hear several others coming closer, following their comrade, and I could only weep.