Posted by Anony on April 4, 2000 at 05:07:28:
I was wracking my brain for a role a while back, and this came to me in a dream...is it to much...is it to...sick? I would like to play this kind of sick minded person...just not sure if the role is, well, appropriate. He visited my family, and stayed for what seemed like forever at the time. The facts are…he raped and killed both my mother and father… That day is the first day I saw the world I remember coming home from my studies and passing him in the street, he was outbound, walking confidently, almost nonchalantly greeting those he knew. He stopped me and gave me a sweet…I still remember his smile. I then remember walking into my house, and seeing the carnage, my Mother sprawled out, her private parts bleeding. My father staked to the floor face down, blood leaking from his ass in the process of congealing into a dirty crust. I remember my rage at my uncle. I remember seeing his death in my eyes. I must have been screaming, for next I remember the whole village asking me what had happened…who had done this. It was then that I had two revelations…I am not sure in what order they came…or what it would mean should I have had one first or the other… I became absolutely awestruck by the obvious strength and power of this man…his ability to do such acts and not three minutes later pass me in the street and give me a kind word and smile… the strength to do things so against societies “norm”, the power of self-possession to meet the child of his victims and smile…I was absolutely awestruck. But he was not infinitely strong. In the same breath that I admired his strength, I despised his weakness. The fact that I knew who he was and where he lived…and with but a word from a small child like myself, his life could end. I despised him for appearing so strong, and by not killing me as well, proving himself as weak as the weakest leper. So I told the Village that I had seen a stranger do this, and that he went in a direction different than that which my Uncle took. I from that moment knew I would confront him, and praise his strength even as I proved his weakness. When I reached the age at which the young normally go out to make a name, I found Poling, and that man’s house. I found he had five children, they were all a bit younger than I…and a most beautiful wife. I tied them up, I told them what I was going to do…although I could not stop them from screaming once they understood. When the man came home, I came upon him from behind and bound him to a chair. I cut off his eyelids and forced him to watch as I raped and slaughtered each of his children and then his wife…not breaking a sweat, not letting the least bit of emotion show. The whole time I praised him in great words for his strength to have done what he did, I praised him for creating myself as I was; I gave him my utmost respect. I waited until he was to drained to scream, or cry, or struggle, for my last words I wanted him to hear in perfect lucidity. I sat on his lap and proselytized the virtues of absolute strength…and described in great detail how he had failed to live up to the standard by leaving me alive. He had grown confident in his strength, and sought to prove it to another by leaving me alive to witness his greatness…while in his doing this he proved his unworth and weakness. I then took my Mother’s favorite kitchen knife, and tore open the inside of this man’s anus, and sat there and made him look into my eyes while he bled to death. I saw him evolve from disbelief, to hatred, to panic, to self-pity…and in the end was understanding. I then swore to his dead body that I would live my life as a testimony, a living monument to the strength that he came close to living, and I would finish the short days of my life spreading the word of strength, and cutting weakness from the flesh of Mortal life wherever it may be found.
In my youth there was a man.
I remember my mother calling him brother, and asking how things were in Poling, the village he was from.
with clear eyes.