Rashmond~
Rashmond is a name without a meaning, without an existence.
I have forgotten the name I had been given when I was birthed. I have no identity. I have no recollection of the live I lived before him.
Throughout the night I realized that this world was too silent without him, even when it thundered and rained. The rain was not cold today, as I laid over the man whose smile brought warmth to the hearts of people. Even to the people who had none.
The life I lived before him has no meaning hence the life I live after him requires no meaning too. I could have done anything I wanted to. Build my family. Make a few children and forget the live I had learnt. I could end the tale of a Rashmond, a man that left his own humanity behind. But, even the thought of becoming human has no meaning anymore.
I could change. It would mean nothing in this world where my few moments of peace remembering him, had lost its meaning.
Nothing in me is human anymore.
I looked at the rotting corpses next me.
My voice had no reason to be heard.
What was left inside of me?
Nothing.
This body has foolishly failed the only purpose it had.
The tombstone was remade with red concrete. The words engraved on it were too tender to come from a man who had failed humanity itself.
Adonis Deme
Here lays the other half of my perished soul, the man with a smile envied by Gods themselves.
I thought perhaps the last of a dead family would not matter too much if added. After all he never hated them.
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"Rashmond have mercy. Will you bite the hand that fed you all these years? Is this what you do? Was your loyalty this dishonest?" That was the words of a father who never grieved the death of his son.
I have always been dishonest. My mouth was filthy with all the lies that I weaved to form a web of emotions from other people. Those lies were sweet and addictive. Hence, I kept lying over and over again. This creature that I had become does not know truth. It is made of lies. Lies that heal the wounds in the hearts of those it, the same lies, hurt before.
His death brought rain, in my desert of dried blood. Past memories made men weak. But, I would rather be a weak man than move away from the his memories.
I remember the first time I saw those eyes. I remember the first words he told me. It was as expression begging for my help. At that time I could not reach him. My hands were too small to help him.
I was lost in the world where naive children were chopped and cooked, to feed the greed of men who craved power.
Power was under their feet, yet never in their hands. In such a world I managed to find someone who was powerless. Truly powerless.
Who never craved for power.
When such a spectacle is shown to a bastard like me, of course I would be infatuated. I yearned just to breathe the same air as him.
"Father... Why are begging from a crippled son of a whore? We gave him everything he has. Look at him now, he has lost everything we gave, even our trust, even his arm" He snickers like the dog he had become.
An apple fallen from these trees had grown into the fruit of gold. I wondered how was such a thing possible? He is truly precious.
His gaze were clouds of sweet nectar that rained over me whenever I felt the thirst for love. He showed such kindness to me, without even an expectation of anything in return.
In these few days I had lost my mind. Everytime I closed my eyes I saw him. He has occupied all my thoughts without notice. The pain in my chest was excruciating everytime I saw that face. Every whispers of his voice echoed throughout the corners of my mind.
Even after such torture I experienced, I remained calm. I felt something, everytime this pain showed itself. If it was from him I would accept any pain he exerted on me. If it was to him, any reaction was a declaration of the love I had learnt.
Even if it was just for a moment, to see him, my body would go through anything, even if it just a part of my delusions. Yet this body would never accept to love him. It could never. That was it's only fault.
If he was even a bit more cruel, it would be so much easier to be loved by him.
To be next to him, was being blessed by a God that answered the prayers which were not prayed.
To have someone so cherished and beloved was my sin. The only punishment to repent was to lose him because of my own actions.
"See I told you father. This, everything is an act. He can do nothing right now." He said to that man smiling.
To be so afraid that even when death awaited your arrival you laugh and humour no one except yourself. Such a pathetic existence related to him. How surprising.
"I do not even need this arm to kill you. Truth is, even without any limbs, or teeth, even without the sense of sight or smell, I could kill you." I say as I stuffed all the money I had in his mouth until he could not breathe anymore. Money was power to him. But when given, why was he choking? Well, even without limbs I could kill him. He could not.
In this world some people spoke to make their dreadful existence visible. In the same world, some people did not utter a word to hide their dreadful existence.
Between all the thoughts I gathered of him, my only hand moved to end these lives. It was quick as if even this hand was in anticipation of being turned into concrete and to protect him until it turned into dust.
Whenever I killed I never had the care to be aware of these actions, or to repeat them to myself. Even today I am lost in the thoughts of things I should have forgotten. I thought to myself as I lit their bodies on fire.
They had died somewhere between my thoughts. I was not the person who, describe how I killed, I do not think of those things to myself.
About how their skin crisped when burned. That even a cold stoned father begged for the sake of his son. Why had this man treasured trash? When his other son was killed because of him.
All the people of Deme family were dead. One prayed for a God, in hopes of reaching heaven after death. Was that supposed to humour me? Perhaps these people were more delusional than I am. One died before praying, another could not utter a word due to the pain of having no tongue. These two seemed more saddened when they could not pray than when they chewed through glass.
I had few more thoughts because of those people.
It was easier to love Gods that were never seen than it is to love humans who were never heard, and the humans who were never loved.
"If... You had been a God...do you think I would have been a saint?" I chuckled through the sound of rain. Even after death, he made me laugh.
If he were a God in an another world, would he stop this rain for once?