I FINISHED A PROJECT!!!!
Yeah, you heard right I finished a project! Yay for me. It is less than 750 words but I figure that if I gradually increase the number of words for any given project, or at least have a goal in mind I will be less likely to abandon it. I tweaked it quite a bit and I am hoping to enter it into a contest at one point. But I thought that I would put it out there and see if anyone likes it. So here it is
Pain
A Goddess. That is what I am. Ruler over my own aspect of the human condition. I rule over pain. Both physical and emotional. I am not as appreciated as Love, nor as hailed as Ecstasy. Mortals only worship those they feel affinity for. They do not understand the complexity of plans that has gone into their creation.
They are like children. They do not understand the existence of Pain, War and Death. Do not understand why they must suffer.
I have watch over these children generation after generations and they are no closer to the truth . They all know me, yet they do not utter my name. I barely remember it myself. I do not waiver in my devotion to their pain. For without me their's would be an empty existence. Much like mine feels now.
I am an Outcast Goddess with little power and few devotee's, the others of my kind sneer and jeer at my lack of popularity. Only a few are in similar predicaments as myself. Though I don't see them as equals to myself.
Strife and Discord, have some intelligence. They assist War, and are vital to her operation. I recall a time when Strife and Discord were at odds. Strife refused to cooperate with Discord on anything. The mortals called it the Cold War. Strife had spent the years apart from Discord with myself. He was a nice lad, though a bit narrow minded. He didn't see the good that came out of his actions, how he fit into the big picture, but I didn't mind spending those moments with him.
Eventually though he and Discord made amends, and I went back to feeling lonely in a crowded universe.
All these thoughts stopped as I felt a large hand on my shoulder. Looking up from the looking glass that depicted the mortal world I saw Sun. The most powerful of us, the most exulted, the most worshiped. He was the Great Father. He and Moon created the universe as it was here.
“You look troubled my daughter,” He said. I studied his most recent incarnation. Deep ebony skin, course black hair with streaks of gray and robes that reminded me of the older more ancient civilizations on Earth.
“No more than usual, Father,” I said softly. Attempting to look back on the mortals again but found a view of myself instead. Pale skin with almost no pigment, mousy brown hair that swept in front of my blue-green eyes.
“More than usual I think, Child,” He stated sagely. No doubt he could see the sadness in me. The sadness that had built over the ages and never crumbled.
My eyes filled with tears. Somehow it felt good to know he knew me so well. “Why do they not remember me? Why do they scorn me so?” I asked, giving voice to the inner turmoil I had felt since Strife had gone back to his sister.
“Oh, my daughter,” Father whispered to me, kneeling with me on the floor he cradled my cheek. “They remember you. They feel you.”
“But they do not worship me. They do not think me important enough to acknowledge,” I was angry at the mortals who thought me so repugnant.
Father smiled and shook his head.“There are those who acknowledge you, those who worship you, though they do not know your name,” Father waved his hand over the looking glass embedded in the small table in front of us. “You see them? The ones who harm themselves to survive great turmoil? The ones who use you as a form of pleasure?”
I looked upon the glass and saw a multitude of people, some screaming in ecstasy, some sighing in relief as physical pain was inflicted upon them by either their own hand or someone else's. Physical pain transformed emotional pain into pleasure and relief. “They understand,” I whispered touching the glass reverently.
“Yes, these are the children that understand what you represent. Without you none of them would truly understand love, or freedom, or joy. Without you my most troubled daughter. They would be empty.”
I smiled for the first time in ages and hugged him tight. Thankful for the gift of knowledge he had given me.
Pain
A Goddess. That is what I am. Ruler over my own aspect of the human condition. I rule over pain. Both physical and emotional. I am not as appreciated as Love, nor as hailed as Ecstasy. Mortals only worship those they feel affinity for. They do not understand the complexity of plans that has gone into their creation.
They are like children. They do not understand the existence of Pain, War and Death. Do not understand why they must suffer.
I have watch over these children generation after generations and they are no closer to the truth . They all know me, yet they do not utter my name. I barely remember it myself. I do not waiver in my devotion to their pain. For without me their's would be an empty existence. Much like mine feels now.
I am an Outcast Goddess with little power and few devotee's, the others of my kind sneer and jeer at my lack of popularity. Only a few are in similar predicaments as myself. Though I don't see them as equals to myself.
Strife and Discord, have some intelligence. They assist War, and are vital to her operation. I recall a time when Strife and Discord were at odds. Strife refused to cooperate with Discord on anything. The mortals called it the Cold War. Strife had spent the years apart from Discord with myself. He was a nice lad, though a bit narrow minded. He didn't see the good that came out of his actions, how he fit into the big picture, but I didn't mind spending those moments with him.
Eventually though he and Discord made amends, and I went back to feeling lonely in a crowded universe.
All these thoughts stopped as I felt a large hand on my shoulder. Looking up from the looking glass that depicted the mortal world I saw Sun. The most powerful of us, the most exulted, the most worshiped. He was the Great Father. He and Moon created the universe as it was here.
“You look troubled my daughter,” He said. I studied his most recent incarnation. Deep ebony skin, course black hair with streaks of gray and robes that reminded me of the older more ancient civilizations on Earth.
“No more than usual, Father,” I said softly. Attempting to look back on the mortals again but found a view of myself instead. Pale skin with almost no pigment, mousy brown hair that swept in front of my blue-green eyes.
“More than usual I think, Child,” He stated sagely. No doubt he could see the sadness in me. The sadness that had built over the ages and never crumbled.
My eyes filled with tears. Somehow it felt good to know he knew me so well. “Why do they not remember me? Why do they scorn me so?” I asked, giving voice to the inner turmoil I had felt since Strife had gone back to his sister.
“Oh, my daughter,” Father whispered to me, kneeling with me on the floor he cradled my cheek. “They remember you. They feel you.”
“But they do not worship me. They do not think me important enough to acknowledge,” I was angry at the mortals who thought me so repugnant.
Father smiled and shook his head.“There are those who acknowledge you, those who worship you, though they do not know your name,” Father waved his hand over the looking glass embedded in the small table in front of us. “You see them? The ones who harm themselves to survive great turmoil? The ones who use you as a form of pleasure?”
I looked upon the glass and saw a multitude of people, some screaming in ecstasy, some sighing in relief as physical pain was inflicted upon them by either their own hand or someone else's. Physical pain transformed emotional pain into pleasure and relief. “They understand,” I whispered touching the glass reverently.
“Yes, these are the children that understand what you represent. Without you none of them would truly understand love, or freedom, or joy. Without you my most troubled daughter. They would be empty.”
I smiled for the first time in ages and hugged him tight. Thankful for the gift of knowledge he had given me.