| Consequences | ||
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| Summary: Originally this was done as a writing experiment so this reads more like a short story than a log. It was going to introduce a new world with new characters and fleeting references back to things we'd done in the past. However, when the decision was made to reboot Twisted, this short was used as the catalyst to tie together the new with the old. The second half would have been the start of the story I was trying to write and thus the change in tone between the two halves. I considered removing it, but I like the statement it makes that what we consider to be God might only be a fluke. It's meant to read like an essay, and no I'm not trying to call Johnny God. Anyways, it might not be a proper log but it's close enough (and referenced enough) that it might as well be part of Twisted's canon. The posted date was changed to make it fit accordingly. ~NNY  |
He looks down at his hands, still stained with her blood. He couldn’t do anything but watch her die. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Over the years his post as her guardian had turned into something else. He needed her with him in ways he could not express. In ways he couldn’t even admit to himself. But now… Holding a hand to his head, the man stumbles, trying in vain to steady himself. What was the point of going on? He’d spent lifetimes following her. Searching for her… and his own stupid creation took her away. Revenge wasn’t an option, that would only take away the last piece of the woman he …lost. He had to get away, but where? Where was there to go that no one could follow him? Across the room that dagger, that horrible dagger with all of the horrible things it’s created and destroyed beckons for him. It glows with a sinister light ebbing out of the darkness, taking away his comfort with each glance. None of this would have happened had his younger self not given into its temptation. The man finally stands, striding towards the blade with the intent of throwing it away. Yet, as his blood stained hands grasp it’s hilt a strange calm washes over him. Why not start again? Create something else? The voices in his head screaming against the idea are silenced by the cold energy radiating from the blade. Moving, as if in a daze, the broken man thrusts the blade into the wall before him. A blue light bleeds through as the demonic blade cuts away at not just the steel walls but through reality itself. Somewhere new. Somewhere vacant. These thoughts pierce through his mind as he cuts away creating a portal into nothingness. With a hiss this new world takes its first gasp of breath once the portal is complete. The man’s clothes ripple violently as air enters this new reality. Closing his eyes and letting his arms go limp he leans into the opening and plummets into the abyss… Chapter 1. A new worldHow does one describe the creation of a new world? We could start biblically… First there was nothing, and then God willed our world into existence. Some would argue that this is too vague, so perhaps we need something more specific. Starting again, at first there was nothing. An event occurred suddenly like an explosion as matter is thrust into existence. That loose matter is thrown through the cosmos eventually solidifying into rock which begins to take on the properties of gravity. Denser matter pulls additional matter towards it making it denser still until massive expanses of stone are hurtling through the nothing. Some of it compresses further still until it ignites in a beautiful explosion of light, forcing away the darkness for the very first time. These first time fires ignite gasses and burn away particles not yet able to join the massive stone monoliths causing chemical reactions across the void and then... like a plague, life begins and starts to multiply. Of course the time frame of this can only be guessed at but it’s assumed such a thing takes millions of years before anything becomes sentient enough to look up at those points of light in the darkness above and begin to question what they are? Where they came from? Existence is old before it even begins. The problem in our lives begins here. In staring into this void and asking questions. Everyone has their own opinions about the creation of our world and sadly none of them can be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. Was there a master plan involved? Was it a fluke? An accident? Was there a shadow-man pulling the strings, creating an existence in his own image? People are quick to make their own decisions and fight to prevent anyone else from telling them they are wrong. We, the living, are a proud species. Which is ironic, because the dead have probably figured it all out already. We just don’t have a way to ask them. Another problem in our lives is that we don’t get to choose who we spend it with. Sure we have our small circles of friends and family which we try to stay inside, but there will always be undesirables. Those people you don’t want to stay in contact with who always seem to show up when you least wish them to be. Somehow they always seem to be the ones with a different opinion than you as well. Eventually words are said, tempers are flared, and here we are fighting amongst ourselves again. Some have argued that if God where real, why would he allow this sort of thing to happen? Why would he sit back and do nothing while we all mindlessly kill each other? But then, if we can’t choose who we live with… who’s to say even God gets to choose who lives or who dies? What if he were actually a damaged man who created our world simply to get away? Then we must ask of him, does he consider himself God? Probably not, but then would any of us really want to be? | |
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