Foreword: An attempt to create a new anti-hero for a series of paintings. Something set in 1900’s Jordan maybe.
A blade shined out of the darkness and stabbed him.
It quickly withdrew itself into the pitch black as he fell into
a defensive stance, his arms crossing over his chest, his
legs crouched in a fetal position. He tucked his head in upon
facing the darkness, as it would feel, as it would stop that
pain.
A rising light came to him. Surged from inside a the
corse and pushed away that darkness and surged with
power, surged with light. The darkness receeded, waiting
for the light to lose its’ grandeur. And like a sick joke, when
the flare wavered, it stabbed him again.
and again.
He stood against the tide, trying to summon that light
again. Tried to protect himself, tried to defend. But that
darkness continued. A one-sided fight that would soon
cease to exist.
There came two options. Protect himself with what was
already trapped within him, or push the world away again. He
held his breath, staring at the darkness ahead. It already
affected him, stocked against his body, poisoned his core. A
shake of his head was all that it took before he drew the line
and cut off the worlds’ darkness away from him. Keeping himself
safe, he created a wall that separates his own blood to the world.
But that darkness within him reminded that folly of pushing away
the world, as the moment he releases that gust, it will return tenfold.
It reminded himself of that pain.
Daydreams that build Worlds 