It was a hot windless day… The sun was scorching the back of the Seer’s neck as he climbed up the wretched mountain… If only he wasn’t bound to this yearly ritual he would be anywhere now, perhaps at the Bahamas, sipping cold 101s and watching those silly mortals in their plight to escape the heat by wearing nothing and plunging into the Caribbean, or perhaps playing the violin on the streets of Paris, passionately serenading the gutter – these of which he had forever imagined only during his daily trecks inside the bathroom… These daily trecks, for your curious mind’s delight, is a series of intricate yet childish fixations… The Seer, for all his might and glory, is anally-fixated… He spent most of his teenage years inside the bathroom, savoring the urge of bowel movement, using the effect of holding the trap door down there shut – which of course heightened his senses, to harvest epiphanies to his daily ordeals, answers to his plague, a period to end the debates that scourged his young mind.. And now as he climbed the most treacherous part of this damned trail, he could feel the heat inside him, diving into his deepest bowels, feeding the urge.. It won’t be long now, soon he will be beholding the miracle of this sacred place, the peace that this silent realm offered, and the dread of reliving his past…The rebound of the sun’s rays marched angrily across his reddened face.. He spat furiously at the ground as he held onto a large rock.. He would’ve backed down, would’ve retreated from the pain of placing your hand on a hot rock which would’ve felt like dipping it in a frying pan deep with boiling oil… but he did not falter, nor flinched, for the Seer is numb from the shoulders down, a rare gift from the midwife who pulled him out into this world.. He walked past the two large oaks that served as sentinel gates into this different realm, different and far from the taint of what we have called civilization.. This place bore no signs of life, well, except for the trees that seemed to be omnipresent, and the greens that embellished the lake… It was dead quiet here, only the wind made the slightest sound, he could almost hear his own heart screaming against its cage, pleading, begging its master to turn back, dreading what is to come… At last, he neared the lake with ambivalence… the clear water reflecting the dent on his pathetic little mask, reminding him of his downfall.. it was like a sea of glass, the surface untouched, as if magically enchanted to deny any movement… torn between the fear of his past and the peace this place offered, he sat down several inches away from the lake’s outline… he took deep, careful breaths as he laid down his equipment, the tools, the sole audience to what he is about to embark… later, he would clean these up with the sacred water of this lake, he would be careful to wash away the impurities that will paint the cold steel, then he would drink at last, from the lake, cold yet enervating water will quench his dry throat, his head would be like a brand new canvass, free from the fear that has been controlling his life, then, for a full year, he would not be able kill… He savored the silver lining as he readied himself for the ritual… His bare chest glistening, the Seer aimed and smiled as he plunged the broken blade into his chest…


About delamorte

Eherm... A boy with a soiled face who's spent 23 pathetic years trying to make a difference... An old man trying to talk his way out of his own cage... And the Seer who's trying to poise these two alter egos' rage... You won't find anything interesting enough in me to ask about my real life facts. Trust me, things will get more and more boring once you take that path. Disclaimer : These are just random rants and stories cooked-up out of boredom and prolonged stages of catatonia. Please feel free to troll/criticize my works, i am but a poor soul trying to find my way out of this miserable phase some of you call life, your critiques shall serve as my guiding light.
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One Response to Obeisance

  1. shambolic amalgam says:


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