Faltasey
Temporal Aurielian Guard
To show off my progress really, like my Poem collection thread I'll just be adding stuff to this as time goes on occasionally. If you have criticisms, helpful tidbits here and there, let me know! But for the most part I hope you enjoy these stories, I mostly write them just to get an idea out on paper or out of my head. Or at least try to, I don't claim any of these are super good xD but I try to have fun with stuff.
Enter dusk, clouds awry and trees rustling in the wind. Animals making their mark and humans taking their time preparing to enter a dark and unsettled looking cave. Ragged men wearing ragged clothes and as the sun goes down so does their hope. Torches in hand as the crackling is the only sound filling the cave as they push inside… yearning for an end to their troubles. Whispers arise from the group. The pressure is immense inside the cave, almost too hard to breath. They approach many twists and turns and continue along, swiftly pursuing something of value.
Crackling from the torch is suppressed the deeper they go, and eventually, they hear nothing at all. Eventually, the whispers of fellow man are masked too, its almost as if this cave is making a noise of its own. One so deafening, not even they can hear it. Sooner or later, they approach a medium square room. Four fire bowls in the room, one in each corner, so perfectly placed void of ill measurements. A unique smell fills the five men's nostrils as they light up the fire bowls. Upon lighting them, a scripture in hieroglyphics appears on the walls along with four doorways to four different paths.
One man enters each path, while one man stays in the room inspecting the texts swinging his torch frantically. As each man travels further down their chosen paths, the hieroglyphics become thicker and fuller, almost overlaying one another. Almost concerning, to them. They all start to smell a foul scent and before you know it they are walking on piles of the dead. Mummified bodies, fractured bones, skulls staring back at them with a pitch black gaze. Suddenly, the overwhelming odor is no more, and the men lose their sense of smell. A blessing in the moment.
Spooked, the men start sprinting further into the cave faster and faster. Hieroglyphics growing thicker as they start to glow a bright golden-yellow, covering the entirety of the walls and ceiling. It grows so bright that the pathways are well lit. Men get careless and start tripping over the bodies and bones. Golden yellow lights grow so bright that the men cannot see clearly anymore, they continue with touch. After a small while, the bright light begins to fade, and in a moments notice, the men can no longer see. They can feel their tears running down their face, they can feel their vocal cords vibrating, but they can neither see, smell, nor hear.
In the square room, that man stands in the middle of it, reading the hieroglyphics. He roughly translates them: “A martyr stands by principle, everyone looks up to a martyr, but what they don’t realize is that the martyr died with secrets no others will ever know.” and after the last word, he blinked and poof, he is outside the cave, asleep. He wakes during the daytime, with a horrified look on his face, he leaves for his village.
Written by Tristan S. on April 6th, 2019
Crackling from the torch is suppressed the deeper they go, and eventually, they hear nothing at all. Eventually, the whispers of fellow man are masked too, its almost as if this cave is making a noise of its own. One so deafening, not even they can hear it. Sooner or later, they approach a medium square room. Four fire bowls in the room, one in each corner, so perfectly placed void of ill measurements. A unique smell fills the five men's nostrils as they light up the fire bowls. Upon lighting them, a scripture in hieroglyphics appears on the walls along with four doorways to four different paths.
One man enters each path, while one man stays in the room inspecting the texts swinging his torch frantically. As each man travels further down their chosen paths, the hieroglyphics become thicker and fuller, almost overlaying one another. Almost concerning, to them. They all start to smell a foul scent and before you know it they are walking on piles of the dead. Mummified bodies, fractured bones, skulls staring back at them with a pitch black gaze. Suddenly, the overwhelming odor is no more, and the men lose their sense of smell. A blessing in the moment.
Spooked, the men start sprinting further into the cave faster and faster. Hieroglyphics growing thicker as they start to glow a bright golden-yellow, covering the entirety of the walls and ceiling. It grows so bright that the pathways are well lit. Men get careless and start tripping over the bodies and bones. Golden yellow lights grow so bright that the men cannot see clearly anymore, they continue with touch. After a small while, the bright light begins to fade, and in a moments notice, the men can no longer see. They can feel their tears running down their face, they can feel their vocal cords vibrating, but they can neither see, smell, nor hear.
In the square room, that man stands in the middle of it, reading the hieroglyphics. He roughly translates them: “A martyr stands by principle, everyone looks up to a martyr, but what they don’t realize is that the martyr died with secrets no others will ever know.” and after the last word, he blinked and poof, he is outside the cave, asleep. He wakes during the daytime, with a horrified look on his face, he leaves for his village.
Written by Tristan S. on April 6th, 2019
“Jameson, don’t do this.” The man proclaims while motioning towards his friend. Who is holding a gun to a man's head. “This isn’t the way we do things, this isn’t the right way.” as he breathes heavily, after sprinting for what seemed like miles.
“H-h-he did this to us. I-” he stuttered, but his shaky exhale and confusion make it inaudible.
“I know what he did but it wasn’t his fault. He was only trying to do the right thing, Jameson. Can’t you see that?”
With a gun to his head, the man turns to the group of men surrounding the campfire. With a smile on his face and tears rolling down his caricature he screams “I did it to protect us. To get us out of a hole. We were never going to get this far without it.”
The group whispers and goes into silence a few moments later.
“Put the gun down, please. We can talk this out. You know we can.”
“No Max! W-w-we are done talking! He made his choice.” as he cocks the rifle. “It was one way… He knew it was going to end this way. It was his choice.”
Jameson takes a deep breath and shakily he pulls the trigger. The loud bang fills the night sky, masking the sound of the crackling flames for a moment. Under the moonlight, the group winces at the motion of death entering the darkness.
Max turns away and snickers. Jameson drops the gun rapidly in disgust and runs into the woods.
A few hours later the group checks his belongings before burning the body. They pull a note from his jacket pocket. It reads “A Martyr has no purpose in life. The Martyr is always willing to die, and the reason? Only in death does the Martyr have a purpose. Nothing matters before the and. And you, Jax? You did the right thing. Your story ends here. But ours doesn’t. Astra inclinant, sed non obligant.”
Written by Tristan S. on May 13th, 2019
“H-h-he did this to us. I-” he stuttered, but his shaky exhale and confusion make it inaudible.
“I know what he did but it wasn’t his fault. He was only trying to do the right thing, Jameson. Can’t you see that?”
With a gun to his head, the man turns to the group of men surrounding the campfire. With a smile on his face and tears rolling down his caricature he screams “I did it to protect us. To get us out of a hole. We were never going to get this far without it.”
The group whispers and goes into silence a few moments later.
“Put the gun down, please. We can talk this out. You know we can.”
“No Max! W-w-we are done talking! He made his choice.” as he cocks the rifle. “It was one way… He knew it was going to end this way. It was his choice.”
Jameson takes a deep breath and shakily he pulls the trigger. The loud bang fills the night sky, masking the sound of the crackling flames for a moment. Under the moonlight, the group winces at the motion of death entering the darkness.
Max turns away and snickers. Jameson drops the gun rapidly in disgust and runs into the woods.
A few hours later the group checks his belongings before burning the body. They pull a note from his jacket pocket. It reads “A Martyr has no purpose in life. The Martyr is always willing to die, and the reason? Only in death does the Martyr have a purpose. Nothing matters before the and. And you, Jax? You did the right thing. Your story ends here. But ours doesn’t. Astra inclinant, sed non obligant.”
Written by Tristan S. on May 13th, 2019
Snowflakes drip along the light that breaks the clouds, like shattered glass. Oddly enough, crystals still fill the sky. On the last day of the week, crisp air fills my soul with warmth, contradicting it all. Even though I stress for the lack of labor (and the lack of payment), all this white seems to shun my perspective. Standing as though I’m in limbo, unconcerned with escaping… and can’t help but notice how tranquil the ending is to a day where I’d have thought it couldn’t get any better.
I glance over to my favorite spot in this busy city; a coffee shop as quiet as a bar during sunrise. Yearning oh so much for the cozy confines of within, and on my way over, a young woman with the shop’s uniform exits the shop swiftly, and suddenly you're reminded the pacing of a world full of prompt endeavors.
After entry, the amount of customers startled me, due to the weather, but reassuring. I purchase my liquid caffeine drug slowly and head to a seat by the window. Gazing out into the pale blanket of snow that coats the town, my mind wanders into that which surfaces my loneliness. With all this, you can’t help but question where your heart feels safest, and if in turn, someone else is willing to hold it the same way you do.
Breaking my cognitive dissociation, I hear the front door open from the bell, and turning around I hear a quick gasp. The same woman from earlier is chatting with the cashier. Inspecting her, she starts looking familiar to me… in a few seconds of realization, I remember her! For a moment confusion lingers, but I briskly realized I’m out of my head. In reality, I’d been coming to this shop for years. She had been working here since before I moved here, and while in my own little bubble I had forgotten this is the reason the shop is my favorite. It isn’t because I like the coffee: It’s because I like her.
My subconscious reaction is to turn away and act like she wasn’t there. All while blushing with rosy red cheeks. With that, a lengthy back-and-forth with my inner dialogue ensues, and suddenly there I am, asking the cashier about the loud gasp earlier. Like my entire being wanted me to be curious, and my body didn’t.
My eyes shoot up with a universe of stars, and my heart is explicit with notions of butterflies after hearing she had a crush on me. Not just now, but for years. After a lengthy talk, I walk away with her friends' address and the scolding I’ll receive if i go all weird. She will know i am coming. Understandable though, considering the circumstance. Thanking her I gleefully smile; she smiles back as I disappear into the dawning evening.
Arriving home to gather myself, my keys, and better clothes; I realize I am all over the place. From every direction was the pieces of me that have been scattered. Everything was racing: heart, mind, body, and soul. The world suddenly felt caressing with passion. And as such, gathered and calmed slightly, I scurry off to my car through the snow. Leaving footprints that’ll disappear by morning. Because just like my fear, they’ll get covered up by the night.
While driving there, the streetlights shine through the emptiness of the day that's getting darker. Both sides of my path, through the frosted glass, I realize all the gold I pass, yellow lights at that, boosts me into facts: I’ll be okay, even if it is last.
I arrive on her doorstep, shaking in my body and silence in my head. Finger pushing the doorbell, and soon enough she's in the doorway, staring at me curiously.
I hold out my hand, still shaking, but invitingly. She smiles, and I reciprocate. With that, no words are needed at the last minute of sunset.
Written by Tristan S. on February 3rd, 2019
I glance over to my favorite spot in this busy city; a coffee shop as quiet as a bar during sunrise. Yearning oh so much for the cozy confines of within, and on my way over, a young woman with the shop’s uniform exits the shop swiftly, and suddenly you're reminded the pacing of a world full of prompt endeavors.
After entry, the amount of customers startled me, due to the weather, but reassuring. I purchase my liquid caffeine drug slowly and head to a seat by the window. Gazing out into the pale blanket of snow that coats the town, my mind wanders into that which surfaces my loneliness. With all this, you can’t help but question where your heart feels safest, and if in turn, someone else is willing to hold it the same way you do.
Breaking my cognitive dissociation, I hear the front door open from the bell, and turning around I hear a quick gasp. The same woman from earlier is chatting with the cashier. Inspecting her, she starts looking familiar to me… in a few seconds of realization, I remember her! For a moment confusion lingers, but I briskly realized I’m out of my head. In reality, I’d been coming to this shop for years. She had been working here since before I moved here, and while in my own little bubble I had forgotten this is the reason the shop is my favorite. It isn’t because I like the coffee: It’s because I like her.
My subconscious reaction is to turn away and act like she wasn’t there. All while blushing with rosy red cheeks. With that, a lengthy back-and-forth with my inner dialogue ensues, and suddenly there I am, asking the cashier about the loud gasp earlier. Like my entire being wanted me to be curious, and my body didn’t.
My eyes shoot up with a universe of stars, and my heart is explicit with notions of butterflies after hearing she had a crush on me. Not just now, but for years. After a lengthy talk, I walk away with her friends' address and the scolding I’ll receive if i go all weird. She will know i am coming. Understandable though, considering the circumstance. Thanking her I gleefully smile; she smiles back as I disappear into the dawning evening.
Arriving home to gather myself, my keys, and better clothes; I realize I am all over the place. From every direction was the pieces of me that have been scattered. Everything was racing: heart, mind, body, and soul. The world suddenly felt caressing with passion. And as such, gathered and calmed slightly, I scurry off to my car through the snow. Leaving footprints that’ll disappear by morning. Because just like my fear, they’ll get covered up by the night.
While driving there, the streetlights shine through the emptiness of the day that's getting darker. Both sides of my path, through the frosted glass, I realize all the gold I pass, yellow lights at that, boosts me into facts: I’ll be okay, even if it is last.
I arrive on her doorstep, shaking in my body and silence in my head. Finger pushing the doorbell, and soon enough she's in the doorway, staring at me curiously.
I hold out my hand, still shaking, but invitingly. She smiles, and I reciprocate. With that, no words are needed at the last minute of sunset.
Written by Tristan S. on February 3rd, 2019
September 15th, 2022.
Atlanta, Georgia
Honestly, It started pretty vicariously, kind of like… a magical treading by a universal giant stepping its foot in the grains of time. How time flows like sand, it’s fine, but also coarse. Like a woman, honestly. Not trying to talk semantics or anything I’m just... thinking, is all. This current world is like an error in a web browser, like, someone was working on it so carefully. There was progress, there was a path forward, and there was… a good control of things. It was simple. It was working. Until it wasn’t, you see. It might sound cliché, and I’ve seen enough movies where this scenario is pretty common, but, it’s true. The world did indeed go to shit, and when it did, the type of shit was more like diarrhea instead of healthier shit. This story that I tell, it ain’t nothing to front about. I won’t sugarcoat anything at all and it’ll all make sense at the end.
I had thought when I was a kid that things would get better, that things had a need to get better. I was wrong, or was I right? See it’s not so bad here, in this situation. At times it’s fairly peaceful, but at other times it’s not some place I want to be. Sometimes I want to just, crawl out of my skin and hop into someone else’s. Like we are all just skinsuits. Funny saying that because that’s what I see daily. Skinsuits. Not exactly dead but not exactly alive, and fairly lethal. See, you could call them Zombies like every other person would want you to say, some rehashed bullshit that everyone uses. But I feel like it’s giving them too much credit. The dead walk and our first thought is to use a pop culture reference? Fuck that. They’re not Zombies, they’re just undead.
I had a buddy I was tagging along with, traveled all the way from Tampa, Florida, to get out of this shit. But you don’t get out of this shit. These things are fast, we are talking Speedy Gonzales fast. Their instincts tell them hunger but if their structure isn’t completely fuckin demolished it’s safe to say you are going to be outran. My buddy Jakk didn’t understand that. He thought that, there was a way to get them to stop following you, to slow down. No. The answer is no. We were almost ambushed by an entire horde, luckily we escaped before the bulk of them entered the area. They can also scale buildings, the parasite… it’s intelligent. I mean they’re still stupid but they’re intelligent. Let’s just say one climbed up to the roof we were holding up on and… grabbed Jakk and pulled him off. Of course they both fell, so you’d hear two splats instead of one. One glance over the edge and I vomit, not softly, either. He was really all I had, we were surviving on our own. We might’ve had offerings from others for a place to stay and lay low for a while, but we never took them.
See Atlanta, it has a special… aura around it. Ever since this whole epidemic started that’s all we hear about, “Atlanta Is Hope, Atlanta IS the future” but I never fuckin bought it. I mean how do you have hope when all you can think about is finding your next destination. When all your friends and family are dead and you have no one to confide in… so you build a tolerance for bad thoughts. Those same bad thoughts fuel you, give you strength. But at the same time they weaken you, bring you down into darkness. I found Atlanta, though, for all those wondering. You were all wrong. There is no hope here, there is no future. Only destruction, only nature coming back to claim its rightful property and the only thing to stop it is… nothing. You see what experimentation got you, was a road to hell. A road to hell was paved with good intentions. Or more accurately, with bad intentions. Human nature destroyed mankind just like human nature kept it going. The fire that burned was the same fire that lost its purpose.
The other day I saw a group of kindergarten children, undead, all gathered in one area feeding off of animals. Like they were animals too, surviving. Survival of the fittest. Not only fittest but those who are greater in numbers. Us humans are going extinct and our best bet is to fight. But me? I’m done fighting. I’ve discovered my true purpose and it sure as shit ain’t standing in this world letting it consume me. Next to my lifeless body where this was written, you’ll find another note. Let it be an ode to those times we thought we knew, those times we thought we had, and those times we were happy. No more shall I feel pain over someone else’s mistake, I was contracted into a fate I didn’t deserve. No one deserved this. But alas… That is how this story ends. It’s not about winning or losing, surviving or dying, fighting or giving up… but about finding your purpose, and who you really are. It’s about letting us know that we did as much as we could, and that it was never enough.
Note next to the body read:
“To triumph in a world full of tyranny
Is to resolve evil without a loss of sanity.
And to break through without the pain in me
Is to lie and show dishonor among my family.
Time was good to me as truth of the matter
It took it years to tell me what really was
Took time to understand who I really am
And took pain to realize where I climbed the latter.
There’s no truth in thinking we could all make it together
After someone else put a bullet in us it wouldn’t be shameful
Since we had already ran off time the point was lost forever
We are no longer welcome here so let’s leave it to an angel,
That path we wanted to take became as pure as a white feather.”
Written by Tristan S. November 10th, 2018
Atlanta, Georgia
Honestly, It started pretty vicariously, kind of like… a magical treading by a universal giant stepping its foot in the grains of time. How time flows like sand, it’s fine, but also coarse. Like a woman, honestly. Not trying to talk semantics or anything I’m just... thinking, is all. This current world is like an error in a web browser, like, someone was working on it so carefully. There was progress, there was a path forward, and there was… a good control of things. It was simple. It was working. Until it wasn’t, you see. It might sound cliché, and I’ve seen enough movies where this scenario is pretty common, but, it’s true. The world did indeed go to shit, and when it did, the type of shit was more like diarrhea instead of healthier shit. This story that I tell, it ain’t nothing to front about. I won’t sugarcoat anything at all and it’ll all make sense at the end.
I had thought when I was a kid that things would get better, that things had a need to get better. I was wrong, or was I right? See it’s not so bad here, in this situation. At times it’s fairly peaceful, but at other times it’s not some place I want to be. Sometimes I want to just, crawl out of my skin and hop into someone else’s. Like we are all just skinsuits. Funny saying that because that’s what I see daily. Skinsuits. Not exactly dead but not exactly alive, and fairly lethal. See, you could call them Zombies like every other person would want you to say, some rehashed bullshit that everyone uses. But I feel like it’s giving them too much credit. The dead walk and our first thought is to use a pop culture reference? Fuck that. They’re not Zombies, they’re just undead.
I had a buddy I was tagging along with, traveled all the way from Tampa, Florida, to get out of this shit. But you don’t get out of this shit. These things are fast, we are talking Speedy Gonzales fast. Their instincts tell them hunger but if their structure isn’t completely fuckin demolished it’s safe to say you are going to be outran. My buddy Jakk didn’t understand that. He thought that, there was a way to get them to stop following you, to slow down. No. The answer is no. We were almost ambushed by an entire horde, luckily we escaped before the bulk of them entered the area. They can also scale buildings, the parasite… it’s intelligent. I mean they’re still stupid but they’re intelligent. Let’s just say one climbed up to the roof we were holding up on and… grabbed Jakk and pulled him off. Of course they both fell, so you’d hear two splats instead of one. One glance over the edge and I vomit, not softly, either. He was really all I had, we were surviving on our own. We might’ve had offerings from others for a place to stay and lay low for a while, but we never took them.
See Atlanta, it has a special… aura around it. Ever since this whole epidemic started that’s all we hear about, “Atlanta Is Hope, Atlanta IS the future” but I never fuckin bought it. I mean how do you have hope when all you can think about is finding your next destination. When all your friends and family are dead and you have no one to confide in… so you build a tolerance for bad thoughts. Those same bad thoughts fuel you, give you strength. But at the same time they weaken you, bring you down into darkness. I found Atlanta, though, for all those wondering. You were all wrong. There is no hope here, there is no future. Only destruction, only nature coming back to claim its rightful property and the only thing to stop it is… nothing. You see what experimentation got you, was a road to hell. A road to hell was paved with good intentions. Or more accurately, with bad intentions. Human nature destroyed mankind just like human nature kept it going. The fire that burned was the same fire that lost its purpose.
The other day I saw a group of kindergarten children, undead, all gathered in one area feeding off of animals. Like they were animals too, surviving. Survival of the fittest. Not only fittest but those who are greater in numbers. Us humans are going extinct and our best bet is to fight. But me? I’m done fighting. I’ve discovered my true purpose and it sure as shit ain’t standing in this world letting it consume me. Next to my lifeless body where this was written, you’ll find another note. Let it be an ode to those times we thought we knew, those times we thought we had, and those times we were happy. No more shall I feel pain over someone else’s mistake, I was contracted into a fate I didn’t deserve. No one deserved this. But alas… That is how this story ends. It’s not about winning or losing, surviving or dying, fighting or giving up… but about finding your purpose, and who you really are. It’s about letting us know that we did as much as we could, and that it was never enough.
Note next to the body read:
“To triumph in a world full of tyranny
Is to resolve evil without a loss of sanity.
And to break through without the pain in me
Is to lie and show dishonor among my family.
Time was good to me as truth of the matter
It took it years to tell me what really was
Took time to understand who I really am
And took pain to realize where I climbed the latter.
There’s no truth in thinking we could all make it together
After someone else put a bullet in us it wouldn’t be shameful
Since we had already ran off time the point was lost forever
We are no longer welcome here so let’s leave it to an angel,
That path we wanted to take became as pure as a white feather.”
Written by Tristan S. November 10th, 2018
