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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1163115
The prologue to the Truth-Torn Twin's grand tale.
You speak of men? Pah!
I have lived and died a thousand times! I have seen and sworn at countless millions! I have consoled and cried with distraught multitudes! I have fought alongside and against my boon companions! I have seen infinite faces and names, and I remember every one! Quell your tongue.
You speak of demons? Pah!
I have seen atrocities that would shake your very soul! I know of beings that should not exist in any world but hell and I know of creatures that do not! I know secrets kept by lords of unreality! I smile to think of dragon kings, for I have faced evil greater than any mortal soul can touch without ceasing, burning! Silence your tongue.
You speak of gods? Pah!
I have wept at the feet of Jesus! I have cried unto the Lord of Hosts and had angels soothe my injuries, and I have cried unto Lucifer and felt his servants' burning touch! I have spat in the face in the Lords of Reality, and fought and defeated them all! Face to face with Father Time, I tore off my gauntlet and flung it down! The Author of the Story himself has knelt, in deference to me! Still your tongue.

Speak not lightly of the gift of God, of the love or the hate of a man, of the power of evil, of the innocence of a newborn.
There is no force more powerful than hate, nor more terrible than love.

My story does not begin here. It begins long ago and far away. But here is where I shall I begin telling the tale.

Before. A million monsters dead by my hand, a million beggars exalted. Because of me, worlds upon worlds of good men were granted what they deserved.
Then. A simple man who gave Bibles and storybooks to the needy and showed them the love of God was all I was. Because of me, thousands were saved.
Now. An innocent man is subject to a fate even the vilest of sinners never deserved. Because of me, the purest of the pure is corrupted.
What happened? Am I evil? Am I good? What am I, and what was I, and how did this come to be? Let me tell you.

A human shape falls to the ground, spilling sand instead of blood.
A single tear falls, dampening the sand.
I look upon my deed. I am terrified.
"This was not supposed to happen."
© Copyright 2006 The Truth-Torn Twin (telmasgeies at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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