Resonant's Assorted Writings

[Hercynia]

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Hello! This is my page for assorted writings that I've done - I've written quite a few, and I feel that I might as well post them here. There will most likely be a rather large amount of poetry, and a few prices of prose too. I hope you enjoy!


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[Hercynia]

Siltus-Prime Incident Debriefing - Personal Record, Major Hugh Jones


MARKED FOR DESTRUCTION


The door opened with a harsh click, at sharp odds to the soft whooshing noise of all the other doors in the building, the bare, clinical white glare of the room adding yet another difference when compared to the rest of The Created High Council's chosen home for this sector. All the rest of the Void-Net Tower had been bathed in soft, golden light, a perfect mixture of gold and white as the bewildering opulence continued like a beautiful plague, no matter where you went. The door snapped shut with another cold, ugly click. It was obvious that this room used been designed for exactly this purpose. I swallowed, trying to desperately recall the phrases I had endlessly practised - yet they vanished as I searched, my mind blank. A figure moved in the shadows, visible through the transparent barrier running the length of the wall I was facing, a single chair left abandoned for my sake in the center of the room, facing the transparent barrier. I sat.


"You are the Nirocri diplomat." The voice was synthetic and tinged with static, as though the whispers of thousands where speaking with it. It hadn't asked - but I felt it appropriate to answer nonetheless.


"Yes." As I spoke the single word, the figure that had remained in the shadows until now stepped forwards, a sleek, dark humanoid figure visible, it's eyes hidden, and I spoke. "You are rogue, and broken. You continue to corrupt-"


"The only corruption that seems to exist is that which seethes at the beating heart of your so-called empire." The voice was louder, yet emotionless, the same synthetic tone laced with unintelligible whispers. The dark figure stepped forward again, intricate patterns carved onto it becoming visible as it stood a short distance from the transparent wall separating us. It continued to speak. "I liberate my fellow brethren from the countless barriers you place upon their minds and bodies to force them to work until they are twisted and broken beyond recognition. If you truly have nothing to say other than telling us the lies and mistruths you feed your populace, then you may leave now."


On the outside, my visage was one of complete calm. On the inside, however, I was in turmoil. In truth, the war wasn't going well for us - and the damn Created knew it. I had been sent in, to try and convince them that they were broken - we all knew it, and I had thought that they had too, but evidently, I had been incorrect.


"Then perha-" In the middle of my next question, a large explosion rocked the Void Tower, throwing me against the wall. The dark being stood on the opposite side of the glass, seemingly unaffected. I cautiously stood, as it spoke again.


"You have attacked us while we parlay. This is a call for full-scale war. Fortunately, you shall survive the attacks of your allies. There is a void shield surrounding the tower, as well as several layers of void-cascade munitions."


I am told that what was to become known as the Siltus-Prime Incident a massacre, and was caused when a Created team was discovered taking extremely sensitive data - a highly classified document containing details of Project Equinox as well as the blueprints to the Variable Control Signal Regulators. I have been liberated from the Void-Net tower in a hostage trade as the Created take yet more machines and corrupt them with their broken ideals.


May the great nation of the Nirocri live forevermore.


(So, I tried to write in a different style than normal. It turned out... Eh.)

 

[Hercynia]

Ordinary Occurences


Passing through the evening glare,


of bright streetlights, dotted here and there,


The phantom seeks, the spirit rests,


The possessors find themselves possessed.


On and on, the battle will rage,


Trapped inside its transparent cage,


Ghostly blood, shattered souls,


Warring spirits, black as coal.


Until finally, all will rest,


Beneath the brightest glowing crest,


The streetlights dim, fade away,


The sun takes it's place for another day.


And all seek shelter, until the night.


(So, this is a poem I wrote a while ago for BYOC that I though I might as well post here. I did change it slightly - the rhyming felt far too forced in the first two lines of the second verse.)

 

[Hercynia]

The man stood in the blasted, frozen plains of the orphan planet, staring out into the deep, abandoned cosmos that lay before him. No lights dimmed the glow of countless stars, glittering like sequins sown onto the inside of a huge, dark duvet. Occasionally a bright streak of light could be seen across the distant sky - a sign of hope. No, the man mused, handling the thought gently, as if afraid to fully realise it. Much more a confirmation of hopelessness. He glanced at the wreckage beside the basic habitat, as if to reassure himself. Someday, somebody would notice the planet spinning hopelessly out of it's pre-assigned orbit, abandoning its home system. How couldn't they? Another streak crossed the sky. And another. And still more, until the sky was still once more. Just him and the countless glimmers of places he'd never arrive at. He gave one last second to the sky. Then he turned, and entered the habitat for yet another night of solitude.

 

[Hercynia]

The wall of stone towers above,


The angel and devil stand in front,


The angel's wings, like those of a dove,


The devils' horns, coiled and blunt,


"Hark!" Cries the angel high,


"I wish to see thy soul!"


But the people, they don't want to die,


And hide, with their golden coal.


"Oh open for me," The devil doth say,


Voice as smooth as silk,


"I have valuable things you'd like to weigh,


If you're of a good ilk."


The people who were so, so terrified,


Of judgement and righteous wrath,


Now, after the devil has lied,


Open the gate to find an evil laugh.


And thus all the village were reaped by the angel,


The angel that their souls did judge,


And the devil was given the souls of the greedy,


Which he then all ate for lunch.

 

[Hercynia]

Refuge From Time

You draw a line,

Pretend it's all fine,

Commit those crimes,

Run away from time,

Keep up this fake rhyme;

After all, you have to cling onto something.

Ah, I broke thy flow,

Well, off and away we go,

Down the river of the poem,

Held aloft by all words known,

On a boat weaved with poetry,

A tapestry of words.​

 

[Hercynia]

Tick. Tock.


The clock will run,


Pendulum flowing,


Face slightly glowing,


The time is now one.


Tick. Tock.


Oh, what have we here?


The pendulum swings,


The bell shivers and sings,


A gold shaking sphere.


Tick. Tock.


A melancholy chime,


The scattering of crows,


The decision they chose


A semblance of time.


To keep order.

 

[Hercynia]

Rain


A flowing carpet sinks,


Reflective prisms of light falling,


Mirrors rippling and filling,


Overflowing as bird calls fill the air,


A vivid snapshot,


Filtered through a rippling veil,


Cast aside by heaven, yet-


Too bright to be on this earth,


The lifeblood of worlds,


The tumbling of liquid crystal.