The Insistent Self

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Many have said that satan himself is not literal, rather he is the id and basic temptation in all beings: he is the primordial sadness in us all.

Submitted: April 30, 2016

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Submitted: April 30, 2016



I decided to take a walk by the beach today. I grabbed my most comfortable clothing and began out. How a delightfully warm day it was; the sea glittered, the waves instilled serenity, the gulls testified to their harmony. Even the vegetation seemed to perspire contention, as the banana trees were oddly smooth and verdant that day. The wildflowers glittered the shore, haphazardly placing themselves to the syncopation and pleasure of only their whimsical nature. I felt a calming peace throughout my body, basking in the ocean breeze and dazzling sunlight.


“Why, what's that?”


I charismatically transverse the beach to the object of my wonderment, a precarious incision in the breathtaking landscape. Once I arrived, I was dumbfounded.


I focused on a creature with confusion of what emotion I felt towards it. This monster, this cage, this inconvenience was disgraceful yet had an unspoken beauty.


As black as tar yet fair as silk. It's eyes confessed the innocence a of a thousand virgins, yet its body made know a sinful nature. However, what took me aback was its gaze. Such a longing gaze, begging for forgiveness yet death and retribution. It's eyes were so distracting that it masked it's scared, damned body marked all about by the aging of an epoche.


This diabolical creature--my cage, my desires, my hatred, my disappointment--looked back at me all too innocently. I felt fear looking into this deep pit, but mostly I feel my worries and terrors trickle from my heart into my conscious.


However, I look strangely all the more with indifference, with an overwhelming feeling of acceptance and of failure. The relief of the human condition and the recognition of my inadequacy.


The feeling was to overwhelming. I fled cursing the animal, if it be named such, to satan’s lair.


“There is no escape from the insistent self, it is the ocean to which all natural river do lead,” were its final words.


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