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Unfinished short story
He dropped to his knees in a blanketing veil of ever sorrow and anger. The said emotions rose and careened as if attempting to bring down all structures around him whilst driving in a semi-truck. He found his voice sounding, echoing in the pitch. "Once more, I fall before myself and pray to the very one whom left me to rot in this pile of excrement. Why do I need to bow before a master of sorrow, pain, suffering, lust, anger, pride, and despair? Why must I pray to thee whom all have false ideals of, thinking you some sort of kind, and loving creature? I have seen and felt your true faces. You are the true evil, the only true false prophet. The voice shall be sent from the quivering lips into the growing dark, to ever cruse your ear, eye, nose, mouth, and body. I shall rise up and cast you from the title you have torn from the last ruler to 'grace' your head of lie and deceit." He gripped his head in some faint hope of relieving his horrid, still deepening agony. He rose his fist and dropped them into the stone floor many times before a pool of blood surrounded him. At last, his pain was released upon his own destruction. The darkness grew until it seemed to feast upon his very existence, swallowing him whole in attempt to consume his being. He felt his last breaths leaving his lungs as the rock face of awareness hit him like a punch into his face, chest, and stomach. "My end is not now." In his mind, it was a fight to regain whom he once was, an endless bout to have his tattered life back into his form. He relived every nightmare, failure, and tragedy he witnessed. At last, he broke the surface like breaking through an ice sheet of frozen lake water, nearing death. He was free from the present danger of being drawn into eternal oblivion. He drew in new breath and sighed as he looked about the room in which he died. He sat up and crossed his legs, resting his forehead into his hands. He still struggled to find some meaning as to why he had tried to relive a broken life. He knew he wanted to live but, why? He felt even worse having lived his worse moments over, and over, and over again. Tears broke upon his bloody jeans, making neat, almost perfect designs. "Here we go again. Let's try this s**t over again without making the same ******** mistakes." His words echoed in the void, the silence, the empty darkness.
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