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Halloween Horror Special 2020: vote for da best (super pls)

Part 1: fuzzyface.exe
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Author Topic: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories  (Read 49042 times)

BlackDragonSlayer

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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #75 on: October 31, 2021, 08:37:02 AM »

Halloween Horror Special 2021 part 3
The Bleakest Chambers of the Heart’s Desire

Part 1: Photographs & Memories

     It is incredible, nay, horrific, what happens to a photo when it transforms from a photo of someone you love, to the photo of someone who has hurt you. It goes from a picture you look back on with fond memories, a sense of yearning nostalgia, and a sense of appreciation for the subject of the photo, to a repulsive, sickening object. It doesn’t even have to be a photo you have taken yourself. No, any photo, simply the image or sight of the person, triggers a primal feeling of utter revulsion. ‘How could I have ever cared for a person like this?’ you ask yourself. But there is no good answer. It doesn’t even have to be an egregious transgression that tore you apart. Simply the notion that there was something which destroyed the special bond you had, and that it may never be repaired. And if it can be repaired, that it may never be the same as it once was, because it hits you that they, or perhaps yourself, saw your relationship as something that could be severed in the first place. That they were ok to live with themselves after that. After they hurt you. And you lie awake, all these sleepless nights, wondering if what once was, but has since been tarnished, could ever resume the lustrous golden sheen it once displayed, if it could ever bring you the same joy it once had. And the days pass, and the years pass, and it still hasn’t. All these sleepless nights.

     And you question yourself. ‘They didn’t want to admit fault,’ you tell yourself, again and again, ‘does that, perhaps, mean that I am actually the one at fault for the whole damn thing? Am I in the wrong and they’re right, and I’m just to blind to see it?’ The incessant questioning, over and over. Endlessly. Are they lying awake every night thinking the same sort of questions? So many nights of ‘Maybe I should apologize; maybe…’ maybe… they feel they’re too deep into it to give it up, that somehow an admission of their part in the whole thing would hurt more after all this time. If they had just done it yesterday, a month ago, three years ago, it wouldn’t have hurt as much. Is this hurting them as much as it’s hurting you? But you’ll never know that, because you can’t ask them, because they won’t let you ask them, and even if you did ask them, maybe they wouldn’t even be honest with you, because they haven’t always been honest with you before, haven’t they? But honestly would really make things better for both of us, so why can’t they be honest? Do they not want to be honest, or do they just not know they’re not being honest? Are they not honest with you because they think of you as lesser? Why? Have they always thought of you as lesser, or did it start somewhere along the line? If so, then what caused that to happen? Was it something you did, or did they just… change? That’s the big fear: that it's always been this way, that everything was wasted, and there’s not even a chance to scramble to get everything back. You want to do anything to get it back, to put the whole burden of the fault on your shoulders—only yours and no one else’s—so that you can hope to patch an ever-growing fissure. But you know that it can’t ever really be mended unless both wielders of the guilt are willing to bear the load. You’ve always hurt yourself just to keep the peace, but keeping the peace came with a cost in the end. You wish you could read minds, so this whole thing could’ve been so easy. You thought you were always so in sync in the ways that it mattered, but in the end, you suppose you were only two lost souls with just enough tangled strings to hold you together for a fleeting moment, but never enough to bring you closer. But you want to do something about it. You’ve always wanted to do something about it, but you never have. And you’ll do anything to make things better for both of you, even if you shouldn’t, because they don’t want to make things better.

     And nothing will ever change because you can’t do anything, because no matter what the reality of the whole thing is, they don’t want to change. People don’t want to change, maybe… because it hurts. And is it even hurting you both the same way?


Part 2: He Sees a Ghost

     Denial.

     In the early evening just before sundown, as I walked down the sidewalk on the way home from work, I took in the stale, dry air of the city. People still called it “fresh air” despite the fact that the whole city was tinged with a rancid scent, as if just the fact of it being outside somehow made it better than inside. I’ve learned that people love to insist on things that aren’t true, just because those little lies make them feel good. Familiarity is a strange thing, and while denial is no stranger to me, it still baffles me how people can take such joy in being wrong, because they despise the sting of being wrong. People want to feel good without effort. Effort, whether it be mental, physical, or otherwise, is pain.

     I know it’s early, but I’m sure you’ve surmised by now that this is about you. I don’t know why it matters though, because you’ll probably never read this. Nonetheless, nothing I’ve said here should even be a surprise to you. Whether or not you were listening, I’ve probably said it all to you before. You know I have a sad tendency to be a bit of a broken record. I can’t help myself.

     But back to the matter of you, I suppose, now that we’ve gone there. I don't always remember where I met people. Usually I'll have a general idea of the circumstances of our introduction, but not like you. I remember exactly where we first met, and what we said. It’s a shame how the best of our memories are so often taken up—nay, stolen—by those who don’t deserve such a lasting footprints in our head. On that note, I’ve always found it funny how the best way to forget someone who wronged you is to be wronged by someone else. What happened with you made me forget the person who wronged me before you, but I've never gotten over what you did to me, because unlike so many others, you actually cared about me. Maybe someone else will come along to replace you soon enough. Maybe it won't be as bad next time. One can hope.

     At the end of the day, I’m still asking myself the question: Where did things go wrong? Everything was good, until one day it suddenly wasn’t any more. Things were fine until I started having your back. I was there for you when nobody else was, and you didn’t like that. You treated me like shit because I told you what you needed to hear when you didn’t want it. I didn’t want to have to pick up the pieces afterward; I wanted to save you from being broken in the first place, but I guess you didn’t want someone who respected you. You just wanted someone shiny. I’ve never been shiny, at least not for a long while.

********************

     I saw you at a coffee shop today. Imagine that should happen so soon after thinking about you again. Funny, I wasn't even there to get coffee. You know how I am. And later that day, I got a message from you. It's been, what, how long? A year, two years, five years? Really, that long? Fuck, feels like it's been decades. You think it’s been too late? Why did you even wait this long to say anything? Hell, you wouldn’t have even said anything if I hadn’t seen you first, but you seemed friendly enough, and not just because you felt obligated to. You really did have your old vibrant warmth to you, like you genuinely meant what you told me. Like nothing had ever changed, and we had just happened to fall out of contact over the years by some big unfortunate circumstance outside of our own control. But let’s not twist history; we both know that’s not what happened, no matter how much you’d like to forget.

     Don’t try and hide that it was your fault. I know you’d like to simply get away scot-free, without the burden of guilt to force you to feel uncomfortable for your actions. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can’t believe you never struck me as that kind of person while I knew you, but looking back now, it was all too apparent. I just gave you excuses you were all too quick to accept. I just let you get away with it. How could I have done such a thing?

     But it needs to be said—you chose to do this. You didn't just disconnect what we had, you took a hammer and made sure to smash whatever was holding on for dear life, until there was nothing left. I want to fix it, I've always been willing, I still want to fix it, but whatever we rebuild will never be the same thing that used to be there. The greatest tragedy of human life, I suppose, is that the longer you live, the more experience you get, but you need the experience the most at the time of your life you don't have it. And you can warn the new people all you want, but it doesn't really matter, until you've lived it yourself. Maybe if our souls of today could go back in time and inhabit our old bodies, then this never would've happened. We'd realize how petty the whole thing was and we'd laugh and go out for drinks and embrace each other and be merry. And the whole thing would be smoothed over by morning. And we'd go back home and live our lives and every so often we'd meet up again to have a damn good time. Just a bump in the road.

     It’s been too long. We can’t repair what we used to have. It’s too late. I wish you had done this earlier. When I wanted to. I was ready, even if it hurt. Before the hurt and the pain really set in. Before the ties were severed completely, and rotted away to nothing. I really tried, because you and me? Nothing should have ever come between us.


Part 3: A Sad Sort of Epilogue

     Even as I lay here in bed, I’m still thinking about this morning. You know I can’t help it.

     You had the gall to ask me how things had been.

     Let's say you and your roommate own a dog. The dog is old and in pain and needs to be put down. You tell your roommate you'll schedule the appointment for this Friday, but they say they're not ready emotionally and ask you to put it off until next Friday, so you do. Every day until then, you have to sit and listen to the dog whining and crying in agony. Every night you go to bed hoping it won't die between now and next Friday.

     The roommate was you, and the dog was all our problems we had to lay to rest, that we didn't because you weren't ready.

     So that's how it was to me, my love. That's how it was.

WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR HALLOWEEN
THE END
...until next year...
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And the moral of the story: Quit while you're a head.

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BlackDragonSlayer

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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #76 on: October 31, 2021, 08:40:05 AM »

Also, a brief announcement. I can't say for certain, but this might be the last Halloween Horror Special for the foreseeable future. I'm trying to compile some of my stories into a book, along with a couple new ones, so if I find out how to self-publish it's possible that most of my writing efforts will go into writing for the efforts of publishing more books, in which case I'd want to make those collections comprised primarily of original stories rather than ones that have been previously released.

Thanks for all the support up until now. I really appreciate it. <3
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And the moral of the story: Quit while you're a head.

Nornova Dex
NSM Sprite Thread
Compositions
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