"A terrible story, really." the Victim said, as the void was empty save he and the Storyteller once more. "One I have heard before, in other forms. The tyrant was cast in a purer light, but it was clear he was wrong. His success is interesting, of course; perhaps this was a larger story you have changed."
Tyrant? He was a god.
"Ah. Are you telling me something of the nature of religion? Perhaps you are trying to tell me that gods we have are the ones we invent, or that religion is good intentions gone wrong? He was not a god. He was a man. A man with ideas and talents, but still a man."
A man who decided whether people lived or died, and the laws by which they led their lives. Yet as you have said, I am the Storyteller, not the preacher, teacher, or anything else. You have declared it thus.
"Yes, I have."
Why?
The Victim shuffled his feet. "I like stories."
Then what story is it you want told to you?
"You told me a tale of order, and that from which it springs. I want atrocity, now. Chaos. Ultimate freedom, and what it inspires."
The problem with this story, mused the Storyteller, as the colours began to exist, is that many who have come here usually prefer to remain a part of it.
 Nocturnal Emissions · Fri Jul 11, 2008 @ 04:03pm · 1 Comments |
