Post by kris on Feb 23, 2006 17:52:48 GMT
((This post pretty much tells wholly from where Kris is coming from. It will be disturbing however and no one knows of it but Kris himself because it is rather disturbing post and it is really completely utterly closed for everyone.
The poem in the beginning was written by a sister of mine for my 10th birthday as I went through a rather rough time back then. So all copyrights go to her, I just changed the last line to say ’he’ instead of of ’I’.))
To tire of fear
And pain and lies,
Secrecy and shame,
Anger and battles,
Constant losses,
To feel it’s all over.
To give up on the pointless,
To understand that life
Doesn’t have a value or price.
Sometimes he thought that if he’d dare, he’d just turn his back and leave.
He could almost see it sometimes. The lazy waves washing the golden sand, the shining lantern of sun in the clear sky. The sight reached out to you, took hold of your whole being and invited you away from the treaded day filled with worries, hardships and trouble. He could see the peace it offered so clearly in his head at the times when his soul was tired and he just needed a break from life. But yet something still always kept him back and stopped him from laying down, closing his eyes and with one deep breath leave this world forever. He wasn’t done here yet. He didn’t have salvation.
He was alone. He had left even Morrigan behind as this was too private to share with even his feline companion who loved and trusted and depended on him no matter what. Yet this was Kris’s crusade. His crusade, his battle, his fault, his heart-ache. Maybe one day he would be able to share the reason why this path and his destination haunted his nightmares and had hardened his heart. He might do that. But the weight of the pain it brought would always lay on his shoulders and his shoulders alone. He knew this place. Every hole and turn of the path, every angle of every root and branch, yet he treaded every step he took.
Maybe it all existed in his own head. Demons in the shape of memories. He was called cold and sarcastic and even mean sometimes. And true, he had his malicious moods, but in whole reality wasn’t it just a big mask he wore to hide from the world how vulnerable he was in the end? Didn’t everyone create their own demons and evils that haunted them and also the masks they wore day and night? Because sometimes facing who you really were deep behind all those charades you put up was a bit too much to handle. His mind turned fully into himself Kris barely noticed how he walked forward reaching the small clearing before fully even understanding it nor appreciating the beauy of the nature surrounding him. Some lone trees – firs, pines, some short birchs and ashes. But the most of the land was covered with lagre junipers that spred their sweet smell even now. The plants were gorgeous, especially when you considered the fact that they grew from a ground where only a couple of inches of sandy soil covered hard rocks. With it’s clean snow and slowly flowing creek this place looked like something out of a winter-wonderland. Yet for Kris it equaled the 11th circle of hell.
Coming to a stop precisely next to a slightly artifical raised piece of land that showed the location of a tomb Kris pulled off his gloves and pushed them into his pocket from wish to not spoil the surroundings. Not caring about his clothes – even if the finest silk and velvet would both be completely ruined – Kris dropped to his knees not even noticing the cold starting to bite his fingers. Almost tenderly Kris cleared the stone cross with a circle around it from snow that fallen on it, his fingers tracing the date carved into it. Just a date, no name or any other markins. Yet Kris knew the story too well. He had dug the grave here until his hands bled from pulling the hard rocks apart, he had buried him here and he had covered his body with soil yet again and now he came here to pay his respect and to remind himself yet again, even if now it was his heart that was bleeding.
He had been 7. Not really old enough to understand everything, yet old enough to have a clear enough opinion. Being an only child with unlimited fortune backing him up he was overly sure of himself. And fate had taught him otherwise very painfully. The horse had been 16 hands high, pitch-black and a rather calm rune. And Kris had hurt him. He had over-estimated both of them and the horse had fell, breaking both of his front legs because of Kris’s miscalculations. It had been his father who had put Kris on horse-back, it had been his father who lead his hands the first time as he taught Kris how to care for a horse and it had been his father who had handed Kris a pistol and told him to fulfill his duty before everyone had left him and the horse. And he had been old enough to accept his blame and respect his duty. Even with tears clouding his vision Kris had kneeled next to the runes head and whispered how sorry he was. And after kissing the horse’s forehead he had did what he had to do. His hand hadn’t wavered as one bullet had been enough to free the horse from the pain he was in as his legs would have never recovered. It had been the last time Kris had cried anywhere else but on the horse’s tomb he had prepared himself.
The proud Slytherin most knew was nowhere to be recognized though. His head leaning against the tomb-stone Kris’s shoulders shook as he cried like a child, even though his tears didn’t bring him any kind of relief. The pain in his heart was still as real as ever. Did animals deserve unconditional love and more care than humans did? He didn’t know. All Kris did know that he owned animals and it was a debt he would never be able to pay back in all of his life-time no matter what he did. Half-laying in the cold snow his head a bit awkwardly leaning aginst the hard stone Kris didn’t even feel his surroundings as her emotions raged out making him feel alone and cold. And the coldness came from his very being, not from the icy weather around him. Inside himself it was just so unbearably... cold.
The poem in the beginning was written by a sister of mine for my 10th birthday as I went through a rather rough time back then. So all copyrights go to her, I just changed the last line to say ’he’ instead of of ’I’.))
To tire of fear
And pain and lies,
Secrecy and shame,
Anger and battles,
Constant losses,
To feel it’s all over.
To give up on the pointless,
To understand that life
Doesn’t have a value or price.
Sometimes he thought that if he’d dare, he’d just turn his back and leave.
He could almost see it sometimes. The lazy waves washing the golden sand, the shining lantern of sun in the clear sky. The sight reached out to you, took hold of your whole being and invited you away from the treaded day filled with worries, hardships and trouble. He could see the peace it offered so clearly in his head at the times when his soul was tired and he just needed a break from life. But yet something still always kept him back and stopped him from laying down, closing his eyes and with one deep breath leave this world forever. He wasn’t done here yet. He didn’t have salvation.
He was alone. He had left even Morrigan behind as this was too private to share with even his feline companion who loved and trusted and depended on him no matter what. Yet this was Kris’s crusade. His crusade, his battle, his fault, his heart-ache. Maybe one day he would be able to share the reason why this path and his destination haunted his nightmares and had hardened his heart. He might do that. But the weight of the pain it brought would always lay on his shoulders and his shoulders alone. He knew this place. Every hole and turn of the path, every angle of every root and branch, yet he treaded every step he took.
Maybe it all existed in his own head. Demons in the shape of memories. He was called cold and sarcastic and even mean sometimes. And true, he had his malicious moods, but in whole reality wasn’t it just a big mask he wore to hide from the world how vulnerable he was in the end? Didn’t everyone create their own demons and evils that haunted them and also the masks they wore day and night? Because sometimes facing who you really were deep behind all those charades you put up was a bit too much to handle. His mind turned fully into himself Kris barely noticed how he walked forward reaching the small clearing before fully even understanding it nor appreciating the beauy of the nature surrounding him. Some lone trees – firs, pines, some short birchs and ashes. But the most of the land was covered with lagre junipers that spred their sweet smell even now. The plants were gorgeous, especially when you considered the fact that they grew from a ground where only a couple of inches of sandy soil covered hard rocks. With it’s clean snow and slowly flowing creek this place looked like something out of a winter-wonderland. Yet for Kris it equaled the 11th circle of hell.
Coming to a stop precisely next to a slightly artifical raised piece of land that showed the location of a tomb Kris pulled off his gloves and pushed them into his pocket from wish to not spoil the surroundings. Not caring about his clothes – even if the finest silk and velvet would both be completely ruined – Kris dropped to his knees not even noticing the cold starting to bite his fingers. Almost tenderly Kris cleared the stone cross with a circle around it from snow that fallen on it, his fingers tracing the date carved into it. Just a date, no name or any other markins. Yet Kris knew the story too well. He had dug the grave here until his hands bled from pulling the hard rocks apart, he had buried him here and he had covered his body with soil yet again and now he came here to pay his respect and to remind himself yet again, even if now it was his heart that was bleeding.
He had been 7. Not really old enough to understand everything, yet old enough to have a clear enough opinion. Being an only child with unlimited fortune backing him up he was overly sure of himself. And fate had taught him otherwise very painfully. The horse had been 16 hands high, pitch-black and a rather calm rune. And Kris had hurt him. He had over-estimated both of them and the horse had fell, breaking both of his front legs because of Kris’s miscalculations. It had been his father who had put Kris on horse-back, it had been his father who lead his hands the first time as he taught Kris how to care for a horse and it had been his father who had handed Kris a pistol and told him to fulfill his duty before everyone had left him and the horse. And he had been old enough to accept his blame and respect his duty. Even with tears clouding his vision Kris had kneeled next to the runes head and whispered how sorry he was. And after kissing the horse’s forehead he had did what he had to do. His hand hadn’t wavered as one bullet had been enough to free the horse from the pain he was in as his legs would have never recovered. It had been the last time Kris had cried anywhere else but on the horse’s tomb he had prepared himself.
The proud Slytherin most knew was nowhere to be recognized though. His head leaning against the tomb-stone Kris’s shoulders shook as he cried like a child, even though his tears didn’t bring him any kind of relief. The pain in his heart was still as real as ever. Did animals deserve unconditional love and more care than humans did? He didn’t know. All Kris did know that he owned animals and it was a debt he would never be able to pay back in all of his life-time no matter what he did. Half-laying in the cold snow his head a bit awkwardly leaning aginst the hard stone Kris didn’t even feel his surroundings as her emotions raged out making him feel alone and cold. And the coldness came from his very being, not from the icy weather around him. Inside himself it was just so unbearably... cold.