Anger
Pounding Heartbeat. Surging waves through my legacy. Hairs stand on all end. This is my dark side, part unbeknownst to others.
What do you think you are reading, fool? You either understand it or you don't, and if the case caters the latter, you will eventually be coerced to leave my structure.
Blood pouring out through the walls of my veins and into my stomach-alas, no place for foolhardy wanderers such as yourself.
Be ready to fight-wear your mask, wield your sword, protect with your shield! Metal clanging, swords shooting sparks. It is within these sparks that rest the clattered bones of this psyche. It is within these clattered bones that lie the stolen hearts of agony and despair.
Yet, you still do not seem exasperatingly bothered by the simple fact; you could be in dreadful danger.
What a selfish criminal! How do you think your loved ones feel about your escape into this wondrous ceiling?
Tremendously true how the criminal psyche never fails to succumb to ulterior concerns other than the survival of its host.
How dare you enter! Get out, fool. Get out.
Leave immediately. Have no intention of returning.
Believing you have the 'gift' and the true essence of merit and deservedness to be thrown here, you were sent into this quasi-dimensional plane of an emotion.
I am Anger. The very real, imitating form of this emotion common to all living creatures in the biological world.
Live long, expect nought from Xara. Her secret won't open itself to you!
'What secret, Sir Anger?'
Who gave you the authority to address me by name? Who?
Plus, that is not even the name given me in times of birth. I came along with all the cosmos, universe, Creation, choice of to-be-existing souls, and to be harboured within each of them.
I am everywhere. I am relentless. Not just an emotional response to threatening or heartbreakingly unjust stimuli.
My rightful name consists of the letters that compose this very word: Sinne. You'll find it in Norwegian. Its people have the true legends that lead back to my own name's origins.
The 'secret' does not concern you, weak-minded person.
As for now, return home. Go!
Leave me be. Only God created me, not men.
You men, always assuming it is your very selves to be spawning your own emotions.
Ha! What simpletons.
You join together some clan of study for a seemingly important topic in order to feel 'grande' about yourselves and to attract further attention from 'critics', whom you know of that deep down, they are simple low-lives with whom you most probably established a pact several weeks beforehand for the simple reception of praise? All this to be part of a group with an 'excellent' demeanour to the eye of the public?
Then you realise that true happiness can only be found with love, something taken from the majority of you a while back- in your youth, most likely. Afterwards you ask for further explanations regarding simplicity and where emotions stem from, where they are spawned and how.
Ridiculous! Only I decide when and how to intervene with your embarrassingly halfwit companions' psychological side of impulse.
Solely Anger can accomplish such.
Enough with the talking!
You really want to know how Xara suddenly started detaching herself from the outside world?
Curiosity killed the cat; satisfaction let it lap.
'Never heard of that expression,' you mutter.
It's a riddle, idiot.
Since you've been here for some time, I have decided I may as well proceed with giving you the appropriate information, but to you?
How demeaning. You can barely witness her fail! She is falling; Xara's system is falling, failing, decomposing into nothing.
Whilst I am here, attempting to make you comprehend that it is no simple matter.
I could die any moment, just one insertion of ellipsis in the history of mankind.
Yes, another riddle.
Sit down and take note-this is my order in my room.
Do you want to receive or not?
Well, I cannot tell precisely whom or what entered this layout.
Most surprisingly of all, I am not even aware of how the intruder managed to intrude!
Given the many diverse factors contributing to this psychological destruction, I am unable to figure out the correct one which may have led to this wearing out of a brilliant personality-some fantastic mind I am part of.
I have so little time!
Don't smirk at me like that. How dare you?
Hatred is my half-sister. We're related-similar phenotypically, diverse genetically.
Don't all these terms remind you of something medical? Yes, I reply.
Life sounds like a laboratory with the continuous mentioning of these belittling, little fragments of lexicon.
It's all that daemon's fault! If it weren't for that, I would not be having this form of vocabulary ingrained within my colours.
What does 'Laboratory' remind you of? Of course! The labs found in Saint Alexander's Hospital. Jason works in one, so does his younger complacent, Perry. None of them deserve a true title. They're just human beings, for goodness sake!
Now, there are Jack and Adrian travelling the catacombs of this eerie site.
Wish them luck, egotistical being of intelligence.
Hopefully, what I have given to you has been helpful.
Now leave! Stand up-walk out - get out.
Move on to the next level - heureuse fortune...
YOU ARE READING
I; Labyrinth
Science Fiction'There's a strange sensation of the absence of essences. There's nothing.' In the year 3032 a.D within the walls of the Minnesotan city 'Yesté' live three of the world's most revolutionary people innate with what is known as the 'tenth intell...
