I Am Hyperion
Fandom: ANGEL
Title: I Am Hyperion
Author: 50thousandtearz
Pairing/Character: other
Word Count: 1,340 words
Rating: PG
Summary: The Hyperion Hotel tells its story.
Spoilers/Warnings: none
Author's Note: Repost of an older fic.
I am Hyperion.
I am of the sun and heavens, a remembrance of old myths past. I am named for the early god of the sun, the father of Helius, the fireball in the sky.
I was the spirit of the shell that dwells on this plot of unconsecrated land in el ciudad de los angeles. I am born when the first Spanish settlers arrived in this land and erected a shelter from the elements of this arid earth. 'Palacio del sol' they called me, watching the sunlight sparkle like diamantes off the waters of the long since vanished lake in this going land. Always was I filled with life, with sunshine and laughter and the rays of my namesake. But one day a curse sank into me.
I do not know how or why it happened, but suddenly there were bodies of the ones who lived in me lying on the dirt floor, blood seeping from the sword wounds in their bodies. When the massacre was over, a shroud of fear rose from the blood-soaked soil and covered me in its enormity.
So began the curse that was to envelop me for many an era.
~
I am Hyperion.
I am found abandoned in the desert by the American prospectors journeying to this land. It is a learned one who gives me this name, of a god of times long gone. For their ally the sun that illuminated their days spent seeking for gold, for the sunlight sparkling off their rivers of hope, they name me. And it is by the name of the gods that I will call myself for the ages to come.
I am filled with prospectors coming and going, looking for riches. There are many staying in my shell, and the life pulsates. But one dark night I first encounter a childe of Nyx. He enters at dark, a lone traveler, in search of a place to stay until morning. He is welcomed with open arms, in the manner of these friendly people. But when all are asleep, he creeps out of bed and just like the stories told of los vampiros de la noche, he quietly opens the veins of many men and lets the blood drip down his animal face, drip to the earth that greedily drinks it up. La tierra is cursed, cursed with a thirst for blood and death. I am located on this land, and I am sorrowed by this.
I am Hyperion, and I do not like the silence.
~
I am Hyperion.
After the deaths of the men by los vampiros, I am left deserted once more. Others are warned about me, and all steer clear.
I sit empty and watch as Los Angeles grows up, friends springing up all around. But then a new century and the war of the worlds begin and soon they need me again. I am caught up in the whirlwind of construction, my original shell torn down and replaced with a more sophisticated one.
People come to see the sunset from atop my roof. The curse is forgotten, or so it seems. Then a fanatic, an opponent of the country’s isolationism, is shot by another radical in the crowd in the lobby. He falls to the floor, bleeding profusely, and blood puddles on the vinyl tiles. The earth sucks up the blood from between its cracks, thriving on the red.
I am a ‘hot spot.’ The death has generated publicity, and people flock over to see the spot where the dead man had lain. I am a Hollywood hallmark for many years.
But along with the crowds come more creatures of the night. Flappers leave at dusk, only to return at dawn without their friends. Demons dwell in the alleys and prey on careless folk.
I am dismayed at my reputation as a place of spilled blood. This is not what I want. I want to be a shelter, a home, not a tourist attraction. Each body taken away in a hearse, each casualty of the curse that lies upon me, saddens me.
The administration becomes worried about the high death rate, so they call in some expertos. They are known as los Hermanos de Numeros and they are the good men of the time. They come and clean out the nests of vampiros, the hordes of demons, the spirits next door, and leave me with new hope.
I am hopeful that one day I will be free of the curse.
~
I am Hyperion.
I am hopeless.
I am eerily quiet, a refuge for outsiders. People no longer trust. Witch-hunts are being conducted, and everyone has something to hide, whether communistic leanings or not. Another demon dwells in the darkened recesses of my basement. The people hear his voice and he feeds on their fear and distrust. He thrives.
People die. They lynch a man and leave his body hanging in the air. But the man rises again and I realize that los vampiros are back. And after another killing spree, I am noticed and shut down.
I am left with a demon in his lair and a woman caught in his web.
I am trapped.
~
I am Hyperion.
I am abandoned for decades, alone with a demon and a lady. A trinity of despair, we are all trapped somehow.
I hate my existence.
I miss the sound of humanity bustling around in my lobby, trampling up the stairs, slamming the doors, murmuring on the telephones. And yet I dwell in the silence of the stars, bereft of the light.
I am doomed.
~
I am Hyperion.
I am awash in divine irony. I was made and named with the purifying light of the gods in mind, but have ended up being the source of superstition. The God of the Sun now holds in its belly another childe of Nyx.
I am aware that this spawn has been in me before. Before, half a century ago, in the storm of Communism and distrust, he was the dead man who lived. But now he is a dead man who helps others.
I am distrustful of his reasons at first. He is a vampiro. But soon I get to know him better and I see he is deeper than the blood he has waded in. He has changed.
I am surprised that he has returned. He brings with him few others. It is quiet when there are few, but at least there is life once more.
He is of noble sentiment, an angel in a town desperate for one, the memory of an aged name. Los Angeles needs him, and he does well. We are both cursed, and we both find solace together in the hope of becoming anew. Together, we try to lift our curses and we think we have succeeded...
But all good things must end, as does this. The curses, we find, have not been lifted. More blood is spilled, more persons executed, more hatred in the world released. And the angel does the unthinkable; he makes a deal with the devil.
I am disconsolate. He has made me whole again, with his comrades in arms and friends, and is making the land a better place. With his efforts, one day the sunshine will once again sparkle off of a lake. But I am left once more, as they move on to a different place, and I am empty after having joyously tasted the richness of life. He has left.
But I will wait.
For I am Hyperion, and I will stand the test of time as surely as the sun will rise on the morrow. They will deem me a "historical building" and thus preserve my shell. The years will come and go, and I will stand tall. I will wait until the end of the ages, and so will he, and I will be proud to host the dark champion of the light once more.
But for now, I am Hyperion, and I am... alone.
Title: I Am Hyperion
Author: 50thousandtearz
Pairing/Character: other
Word Count: 1,340 words
Rating: PG
Summary: The Hyperion Hotel tells its story.
Spoilers/Warnings: none
Author's Note: Repost of an older fic.
I am Hyperion.
I am of the sun and heavens, a remembrance of old myths past. I am named for the early god of the sun, the father of Helius, the fireball in the sky.
I was the spirit of the shell that dwells on this plot of unconsecrated land in el ciudad de los angeles. I am born when the first Spanish settlers arrived in this land and erected a shelter from the elements of this arid earth. 'Palacio del sol' they called me, watching the sunlight sparkle like diamantes off the waters of the long since vanished lake in this going land. Always was I filled with life, with sunshine and laughter and the rays of my namesake. But one day a curse sank into me.
I do not know how or why it happened, but suddenly there were bodies of the ones who lived in me lying on the dirt floor, blood seeping from the sword wounds in their bodies. When the massacre was over, a shroud of fear rose from the blood-soaked soil and covered me in its enormity.
So began the curse that was to envelop me for many an era.
~
I am Hyperion.
I am found abandoned in the desert by the American prospectors journeying to this land. It is a learned one who gives me this name, of a god of times long gone. For their ally the sun that illuminated their days spent seeking for gold, for the sunlight sparkling off their rivers of hope, they name me. And it is by the name of the gods that I will call myself for the ages to come.
I am filled with prospectors coming and going, looking for riches. There are many staying in my shell, and the life pulsates. But one dark night I first encounter a childe of Nyx. He enters at dark, a lone traveler, in search of a place to stay until morning. He is welcomed with open arms, in the manner of these friendly people. But when all are asleep, he creeps out of bed and just like the stories told of los vampiros de la noche, he quietly opens the veins of many men and lets the blood drip down his animal face, drip to the earth that greedily drinks it up. La tierra is cursed, cursed with a thirst for blood and death. I am located on this land, and I am sorrowed by this.
I am Hyperion, and I do not like the silence.
~
I am Hyperion.
After the deaths of the men by los vampiros, I am left deserted once more. Others are warned about me, and all steer clear.
I sit empty and watch as Los Angeles grows up, friends springing up all around. But then a new century and the war of the worlds begin and soon they need me again. I am caught up in the whirlwind of construction, my original shell torn down and replaced with a more sophisticated one.
People come to see the sunset from atop my roof. The curse is forgotten, or so it seems. Then a fanatic, an opponent of the country’s isolationism, is shot by another radical in the crowd in the lobby. He falls to the floor, bleeding profusely, and blood puddles on the vinyl tiles. The earth sucks up the blood from between its cracks, thriving on the red.
I am a ‘hot spot.’ The death has generated publicity, and people flock over to see the spot where the dead man had lain. I am a Hollywood hallmark for many years.
But along with the crowds come more creatures of the night. Flappers leave at dusk, only to return at dawn without their friends. Demons dwell in the alleys and prey on careless folk.
I am dismayed at my reputation as a place of spilled blood. This is not what I want. I want to be a shelter, a home, not a tourist attraction. Each body taken away in a hearse, each casualty of the curse that lies upon me, saddens me.
The administration becomes worried about the high death rate, so they call in some expertos. They are known as los Hermanos de Numeros and they are the good men of the time. They come and clean out the nests of vampiros, the hordes of demons, the spirits next door, and leave me with new hope.
I am hopeful that one day I will be free of the curse.
~
I am Hyperion.
I am hopeless.
I am eerily quiet, a refuge for outsiders. People no longer trust. Witch-hunts are being conducted, and everyone has something to hide, whether communistic leanings or not. Another demon dwells in the darkened recesses of my basement. The people hear his voice and he feeds on their fear and distrust. He thrives.
People die. They lynch a man and leave his body hanging in the air. But the man rises again and I realize that los vampiros are back. And after another killing spree, I am noticed and shut down.
I am left with a demon in his lair and a woman caught in his web.
I am trapped.
~
I am Hyperion.
I am abandoned for decades, alone with a demon and a lady. A trinity of despair, we are all trapped somehow.
I hate my existence.
I miss the sound of humanity bustling around in my lobby, trampling up the stairs, slamming the doors, murmuring on the telephones. And yet I dwell in the silence of the stars, bereft of the light.
I am doomed.
~
I am Hyperion.
I am awash in divine irony. I was made and named with the purifying light of the gods in mind, but have ended up being the source of superstition. The God of the Sun now holds in its belly another childe of Nyx.
I am aware that this spawn has been in me before. Before, half a century ago, in the storm of Communism and distrust, he was the dead man who lived. But now he is a dead man who helps others.
I am distrustful of his reasons at first. He is a vampiro. But soon I get to know him better and I see he is deeper than the blood he has waded in. He has changed.
I am surprised that he has returned. He brings with him few others. It is quiet when there are few, but at least there is life once more.
He is of noble sentiment, an angel in a town desperate for one, the memory of an aged name. Los Angeles needs him, and he does well. We are both cursed, and we both find solace together in the hope of becoming anew. Together, we try to lift our curses and we think we have succeeded...
But all good things must end, as does this. The curses, we find, have not been lifted. More blood is spilled, more persons executed, more hatred in the world released. And the angel does the unthinkable; he makes a deal with the devil.
I am disconsolate. He has made me whole again, with his comrades in arms and friends, and is making the land a better place. With his efforts, one day the sunshine will once again sparkle off of a lake. But I am left once more, as they move on to a different place, and I am empty after having joyously tasted the richness of life. He has left.
But I will wait.
For I am Hyperion, and I will stand the test of time as surely as the sun will rise on the morrow. They will deem me a "historical building" and thus preserve my shell. The years will come and go, and I will stand tall. I will wait until the end of the ages, and so will he, and I will be proud to host the dark champion of the light once more.
But for now, I am Hyperion, and I am... alone.