The Piper of Souls

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
The ashes have scattered across my terrain of falsified life, and I slowly sink as the souls that I carried fall back to the ground, back to their bodies, back to life, and I continue to fall, invisible to your eyes, back to hell.

Upon my bed I close my eyes and sleep, cursed to sleep for a thousand years for my crime—I have stolen the souls that were not mine to take.

Submitted: November 29, 2006

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Submitted: November 29, 2006

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A A A


 

The Piper of Souls

 

 

 

The ashes have scattered across my terrain of falsified life, and I slowly sink as the souls that I carried fall back to the ground, back to their bodies, back to life, and I continue to fall, invisible to your eyes, back to hell.

 

Upon my bed I close my eyes and sleep, cursed to sleep for a thousand years for my crime-I have stolen the souls that were not mine to take.

 

--

 

The slow, dripping sound of water as it escaped my pale hands reminded me of the many souls that were broken, unable to find the way to heaven, and so they fall to me, they fall to a dark, cold place were they do not belong. Heaven has rejected them because I have touched them, I have tainted them, and so I smile. I'm selfish, damn and I thought that I was kind in trying to return them.

 

Peculiar, the taste of souls is addicting, like a teenager to his first taste of alcohol. The taste of it was refreshing to my dry and parched throat, and nourished my body; I let them have their own place away from the punishments of hell. But that is for my own selfish reasons, not to save them, but to warm myself and let my lover have a new taste at life that was taken from him as mine was taken from me.

 

My soft lover smiles are like heaven for me, as his touch, as the souls that warm my body.

 

Odd, isn't it, and somewhat ironic that the very person that tries to save the souls, end up damning them-purposely. Why? Did I have anything against them? Why, of course not, but after all they were the pale, helpless substitution for who and what I desired my revenge after.

 

Fuck, as if I care anymore, wondering over the lost souls that I've stolen; even though their memories haunt me when I pass a place the remember from their lives, I cry, without realizing it. I simply touch my fingers to my face and find them wet-sometimes with "tears" and sometimes with blood. I do not offer comfort to them any longer because I'm not capable, I simply go about my way.

 

Collecting the souls in my large, cold blanket that I steal from the sky.

 

Somehow I find my self complete in this way, of doing my purpose. So I steal souls that I'm not meant to take, hence you find me the way you did at the beginning. Sleeping, unable to touch, and steal the life forces of all around me; until I wake again to do my bidding.

 

I steal your ashes, scattering them to the wind, in that way it lifts my conscience for what I have done, so in a way you are free. And then I selfishly steal your soul, and absorb it into myself, stealing everything from you and accepting you into me.

 


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