Death and Misery

January 26, 2010

I wasn’t a priest when I died, just a humble monk.  I spent my days grinding inks for the illuminators in the scriptorum, and helping with the herbal preparations for which our monastery was reknowned (a salve to cure itching of the underbelly, and a strong “tonic” wine with medicinally hallucinogenic qualities which also caused itching of the, er… hmmm).

Then I died.  Well, all of us did.  The scourge got us.  Strong “tonic” wine, while spiritually efficacious, can somewhat hinder more, er, material decision making.  I suppose our  quartermaster should have been more thorough in his checking of that “Frozen Foods” wholesaler, but those crates of grain were very cheap…

Things get a bit hazy after that, or at least we try and pretend that they do.  Tales of one’s time spent in a mindlessly rampaging cannibal zombie horde don’t do down well in most company.

Thank the Dark Lady for getting some of us our willpower and self determination back.  Ok, so we don’t get many dinner party invitations, but at least I can order a drink in a pub without trying to eat the barman’s brains.

But enough of all that.  I wanted to talk about faith.  About belief. About what being forsaken means to me, spiritually speaking.

It means damn you all, with your breathing and heartbeats!  One death isn’t enough for you, you living, muculent scum!  A thousand deaths won’t be enough!  You bunch of warm bastards.  I’ll keep you coming back, again and again so you can suffer again and again, and for every disembowelling sword thrust, every loss of an extremity to a poisoned,
swinging axe, I’ll laugh and patch you up again so you can suffer some more!

And that, my brothers and sisters is why I heal.  I am a revenging angel of misery.  I have fixed my course to the star of perpetually endured agony and however loudly you scream I will never let you pass from the world with honor and dignity, but drag you back to breathe once more to pay your neverending debt in blood and pain.  How dare you find the tranquillity of eternal peace while I have to suffer this… decrepitude and rot.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: