Feh Entry 11
It is laughter, fancy free
Telling tales that ought not be.
This is the abyss and into it we stare. Knowing no other way to exact our will we press ever deeper into the madness that shapes this semblance of reality. It’s not a stage we’ve played before but one that will likely best another before the curtain’s called. Foolishness allows disbelief to fester and the pustules it brings to surface carry a lifeblood we’re not at liberty to do without. Were this the moral dilemma of our lives I expect we’d fare as well as any farmer, butcher, baker, or midwife. Versed in combat and the like we are, steeped in traditions and insights we like to think, but little prepares the unwashed mind for trials it dares not contemplate.
This is our abyss.
A polite conversation turns to questions of devilish opportunity and the party that surrounds comes crashing to a halt. Patrons pit fists against faces to expound upon the depth of their moral integrity and those who have offended are relieved of their freedoms. It’s a tale all too common in the mixture between intellectual and common social scenes. Most often the righteous are indignant about their convictions while the intelligent play politics with apology to avoid the pariah’s fate. Still these are postulates to sacrifice and not the real ordeal at all. But a shadow of the intricacies at play are allowed to blossom.
Not so here.
In the pyramid of shadows we are subjects of the intellectual. The mind of demonic and devilish pleasures has omnipotence to exact its hypothetical surveys on our viscera; we cannot object. Where the word jump is apt to manifest we are likely to fall. Where the question of fortitude arises we find opportunity to falter. It may as well be a conversation between deities, sick sadistic manifestations of hate, death, and lust. The creatures that make innocent pleasures into the things our nightmares fear.
Without adversity we are lost and this is the pinnacle of that philosophy. A terrible evil seeks our destruction, for the pleasure of observation among other things, and we are apt to resist. It’s the classic struggle in the modern setting with elements of intrigue to diverge the plot. We could fail this scene and still be wise but somehow I think the likelihood of being able to expound upon that nuance would be lost with our gruesome and extreme deaths. I dare not even consider the ‘life’ afforded to those among the prison that are slain by its inhabitants. Given the wide and strange variety of beasts within these ‘walls’ I have to assume that the opportunity to rise again, beholden to the will of the temple, exists.
I would take the option.
I can’t say it’s a proud thought, or even one I prefer to consider, but given the option to live or die I have the will to live. Mine is not the masterful perception of oblivion that can accept the ultimate loss. I have to live. I will live. This place will not take me! …for I am too likely to allow it.
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