Monday, January 2, 2012

Brave New World - Metaphors and their use

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All good things, must come to an end.

He was man again. Blood flowed once again through those impenetrable eyes, as the encapsulating white mist that screened his pupils, and his soul; shattered and fell to the ground before him. It was as if he was reborn, his eyes hatched, and he was a man once again, a human being, and beside him was a woman, an angel. The bringer of life to him, who had been without her touch for countless nights. Now she had come back to him, he was whole again.

He stood before her, protective and loving, but from what? Only those who saw it could describe the beast of so many shadows. It loomed before him, out and beyond his control, now that he had peace again. It was hopeless, but if he had to sacrifice life again, then it seemed only fitting it would be for she who loved him. The only one who loved him. The only one left in his world.

With fire in its eyes, the creature had new intent, to destroy the one who had woken it from peaceful slumber for millennia and now abandoned its restless and destructive soul. He wrought its chaos, the world now aflame was yet to see the final frontier, between mortal and immortal. And it never would. He, Galuda had forsaken even himself. More importantly perhaps � he had forsaken the beast, and denied it his greatest promise. To conquer the heavens that had locked it away for such expanses of time; that he, a mortal could never fathom.

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He knew it from the moment it all began, that it would come to an end. A bloody confrontation was coming all the time. At what time he was uncertain, but of the eventuality, he was certain. He stood for a moment, in his now most mortal and vulnerable of forms and squinted. He was trying to remember why he gave up his power, infinite power, for this condemnation of his being. To stand here, alone and waiting to die in the shadows he himself had cast. Yet, then he saw beside him; the reason for his self-betrayal, the reason for his morphing from man, to beast, to man again.

He saw Lucci.

Her hair wrapped about his neck, an almost intentional embrace, he felt. She had returned to him, and he needed nothing more. All along he knew, but only now could he see clearly in his mind. The death of God, the sacrifice of a saint, not even an Angel’s tear falling from heaven would give him the immortality he so desired. But each time her sweet smile glistened and in his eyes reflected, like bangles of diamond and gold. He felt immortal, and for him, that was more than enough.

With new strength � she had granted him, he drew from the table a sword. The weapon, which by any other name would be equally menacing. It’s cold edge burst into a flaming passion, which as he twisted and twirled it through the air, cut the shadows, as if they too were flesh. With such confidence he wielded the bestial slayer, that Je’Takalus itself cowered in his wake. It’s once beautiful silver-edged butterfly eyes were now a rusty compilation of cruelty and extinguished flame. The beast at last felt the terror it had for so long induced. Justice, at last would be served.

Charging head on, Galuda was surprised to see the creature make a slow movement, a looming stance above him. Towering over his small world on its hind legs and like a maddened hawk, wielding its claws it drew blood from his oncoming body.

Still holding the sword, clutching it with all his might, all his life, he was tossed aside. Mortality was a fickle mistress, but he was a brave mortal. He stood once again, as the creature advanced. There would be no clich� in its slow steps, or weakness. He, a man, with a sword in his hand and fire in his eyes, stood opposing the most heinous creature to ever walk the Earth. Surely by such odds he was a doomed man.

Rearing it’s great head and broadening its wings, the beast made a counter-charge on his tiny body, which to other mortals would be enough to induce a trembling fear. He was kneeling now, still pained by the first blow of this creature, this monster.

Suddenly he leapt, to

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