Wednesday, January 31, 2018

The New Man in Gadara

He had always, it seemed, lived in the darkness. Only a faint memory of light hidden in his memory under a pile of resentment fed by the cold and the smell of his own rotting manifestation and a feeling that he was once much more.

It had been eras since he had last syphoned from the light in a host. He had been happy until being discovered by a new man. up until that time moment he had it pretty good living as part of a horde within a man who would do our bidding in exchange for supernatural strength. Eventually we had him replenishing the lot of us with energy that was meant to sustain his mind and body to a glory that I resented- we all resented... and took great pleasure causing him to let his own blood, his own life force flow.

We found great sport in it.

Beyond being our source of the glorious energy that we fed on he was endless entertainment, pulling stones from graves and raising them high over his head, we would wager on how long he could keep it there before it landed on him. Or threaten passersby with threat from stick or stone or eventually even just a scream was effective in keeping him in isolation.

Those of us within were warm and safe reveling as we sucked all of the glory within that reminded me of a better time.

I was beautiful then.

This bone that you see when you look at my head? The large one that looks like a horn? It was once a crown filled with jewels, but as my manifestation was deprived of sustenance, the energy derived from the man in the graveyard, it has deteriorated through the last two millennia into what you see here.

Where once my eyes were a bright glowing red, red like the embers of a fire, now are hollow and for all intents and purposes I am blind.

The vibrant colors that colored my armor now monochromatic shades from grey green to a black.
Once smooth and creaseless, gaps between bones and joints separated by a coagulant viscosity that drips off occasionally like the flesh of the Gadara. the smell is far worse probably because it is my own.
The new man? We only knew him as master, wondering why he had come before it was our time to vacate the decaying flesh we inhabited.

Somehow our host caught sight of him and ran, although our resistance caused him to trip more than once as we fought for control.

We had taken intelligible speech from him, but one of our more fearful number darted for his ability to speak and asked if the New Man was here for us...

Knowing that he had brought disaster upon us one of the more powerful among is thought to negotiate our exit. He tried to negotiate for a new host, not nearly as delectable as the one we had, he asked if we could be released into a herd of pigs.

...This horde into a herd of pigs, a disaster at first consideration, but I think he thought it would buy us time and we could regain entry or find another host, but in the moment we left I felt the change.

The New Man had come to bring a change into this world that was my home... had been my playground, feeding ground, the land where I lived a life of leisure, and now into a herd of pigs that no matter how we tried to control them still managed to stampede into the river.

They had no thought for reasonable compromise, we couldn't dominate them we were stuck in our compromise with the New Man. Stuck swimming, crying, clamoring, the weaker pulling the stronger back down as they would reach a possible safety, all and each clinging to existence knowing that life as we knew it was over.
The New Man never gave us a glance.  It was as though in this moment a lesson had been taught. A victory recorded and a history rewritten.

Now I sit in the cold darkness. Feasting on memories of a time I cannot return to. Unless perhaps...

Come closer, how would you like the power to...