Author Topic: The Madness and Horror of Vicho Cain. "GeT AwAy FroM -ME-!!!"  (Read 1532 times)

Aldarris

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The Madness and Horror of Vicho Cain. "GeT AwAy FroM -ME-!!!"
« on: January 01, 2010, 08:09:50 PM »
ALL I DID WAS WANT TO TOUCH HER.  SHE DOES NOT KNOW HOW MUCH I SUFFER.  COULD SHE NOT SEE HOW MUCH I WAS IN PAIN?  THAT I HAD NOTHING AT ALL TO GAIN...BUT SOME FORM OF HUMANITY LONG SINCE FORGOTTEN.  HELD DEEP WITHIN THIS MIND THAT HAS LONG SINCE BECOME ROTTEN.  YET DESPITE MY PLIGHT, AND MY FRAILITY...I REVEL IN THE UNSEEN'S REVERIE.  AS I CREATE THESE EVENTS UNFOLDING FOR SYMPATHY, I LAUGH HYSTERICALLY INSIDE AT MY OWN -IMP-ATHY.  FOR IT IS  THEM WHO WILL TRUELY SEE...THERE IS NOTHING EVERYWHERE, AND FOREVER WILL BE.

THE UNSEEN WILL BE PLEASED.  YES.












AND AS TEARS WILL FALL AND THEIR BODIES WILL LIE, I HEAR THE DESPERATE PLEES THAT RIGAMORTIS CRY.

"THE MOST AGONIZING PAIN IS SURELY TO DIE!?"

"I THINK NOT..." SAYS THE ONE CALLED I.
Figures, Soren's too busy to do something positive.  He thinks putting a smiling face in every message is positivity.

Heretic is a terrible player, always has been.  No wonder PoTM numbers are dwindling *sigh*

Aldarris

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Re: The Madness and Horror of Vicho Cain. "GeT AwAy FroM -ME-!!!"
« Reply #1 on: January 03, 2010, 01:14:26 AM »
I WATCH THEM PASS, LOOKING THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS.  THE GLASS BEING THE PRISON I AM TRAPPED IN, YET THEY ARE TRAPPED FAR DEEPER WITHIN.  FOR I AM FREE AS ONE COULD BE.  EVEN AS I REGAIN THEIR SYMPATHY.  IT WILL BE FAR WORSE THIS TIME.  THEY ALL SHALL SEE...

A PRETTY FACE WITHIN THIS PLACE.  AND NOT AN OUNCE OF CORRUPTION HAD SHE TO TASTE.  HERE HEART PURE AND HER BEAUTY FAIR, RADIANANCE FOUND IN HER GOLDEN HAIR.  THROUGH SUNKEN EYES I DID CERTAINLY STARE.  AS I INFORMED HER OF THIS PRISON...MADE HER AWARE...
















(Madness grows, madness grows)

BEAUTY TO SEE
YET I DO NOT FEEL
CONNECTION TO SHE
AND DESPITE HER APPEAL
SHE MEANS NOTHING TO ME
AS MY MADNESS GROWS I CAN FEEL
HER STILL WARM HAND, AND A KISS ON MY NECK
I REALIZE THE BLACK VOID AS I FELL, AND I WEPT
I FEEL RIGAMORTIS PULL BACK MY HOOD TO FIND
THAT DESPITE MY POWER AND INTELLIGENT MIND
I CRY TO THE UNSEEN FOR SOME UNYIELDING MERCY
BUT DESPITE MY LOYALTY THEY ONLY FUTHER PERVERSE ME!

(Madness subsides)

I RUB MY NECK WHER SHE WILL ALWAYS LAY
AS MY BODY WILL CERTAINLY DECAY
UPON MY NECK, SHE WILL STAY

[Vicho cries in pain and agony as his skeletal fingers trace along the outlines of redness lining a jagged and vicious black scar.  As his fingers slide along the 'lips', the full set of teeth surgically placed there are revealed]

UPON MY NECK SHE ALWAYS ENDEARED ME
AND HER BEAUTIFUL MOUTH WILL FOREVER BE NEAR ME...
« Last Edit: January 03, 2010, 02:32:42 AM by Aldarris »
Figures, Soren's too busy to do something positive.  He thinks putting a smiling face in every message is positivity.

Heretic is a terrible player, always has been.  No wonder PoTM numbers are dwindling *sigh*

Aldarris

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Re: The Madness and Horror of Vicho Cain. "GeT AwAy FroM -ME-!!!"
« Reply #2 on: January 04, 2010, 05:38:17 PM »
(*Warning*, do not read if you have "Thantophobia" (Fear of death))


I GAZE TO MY SURROUNDINGS WITH SUNKEN, MILKY WHITE EYES.  DO THEY REALLY KNOW THAT I SECRETLY DESPISE?    LIFE IS SO SHORT, AND SUCH LITTLE JOY.  THIS LIE I WOULD CRUSH, AND STRIVE TO DESTROY.  THE UNSEEN DO WISH IT, AND SO MY SKILLS I EMPLOY.  FOR THERE IS NOTHING AFTER THE WORMS, THEY ARE THE ONE TRUE END.  LIFE'S LITTLE GARBAGE DISPOSAL, OUR SQUIRMY FRIENDS.  AND IT GOES WITH SAYING, WITHOUT A DOUBT...

THE WORMS CRAWL IN, THE WORMS CRAWL OUT, THE WORMS PLAY PINOCHLE ON YOUR SNOUT!

FOR I MET A MAN, HIS NAME WAS GUS, AND SURPRISINGLY HIS MIND WAS NOT PUSS.  HE SEEMS LIKE ME, AND I LIKE HIM...OUR SITUATIONS SIMILIAR.   SOULS WORN THIN.  FOR WHAT IS TRUELY A HUMAN SOUL?  IS IT LIGHT? OR A GAPPING HOLE?  I AM CURIOUS AS HOW HE CAME TO BE.  PERHAPS THE UNSEEN FAVOR HIM, AS THEY DO ME.  ONLY TIME WILL TELL, AND WE SHALL SEE...







I'VE CHANGED MY MIND AFTER SOME DEEPENED THOUGHT.  A NEW SCHEME TO DEVISE, A NEW PLAN I HAVE SOUGHT.  TO DESTROY GOOD, ALLOWS EVIL TO BECOME.  TO DESTROY EVIL, AND THERE WOULD BE NO FUN.  THE TWO NEED EACH OTHER, IT IS CLEAR TO SEE.  AND LIKE A SWEET EPIPHONY.  AND DESPITE HOW MUCH LOVE, AND JOY I TRUELY HATE, WHY JUST DESTROY?  WHEN IT IS PAIN AND SUFFERING I COULD CREATE...?

I LEAVE YOU WITH THIS LITTLE RHYME.  THAT WILL ALWAYS STAND THE PASSAGE OF TIME.  IT IS TRUTH, MY FRIENDS, AND NOT A LIE...AND IN A WAY SOOTHING.  SWEET LULLABY...

Did you ever think, as a hearse goes by,
That you might be the next to die?
They wrap you up in a big white sheet,
And bury you down about six feet deep

They put you in a big black box,
And cover you up with dirt and rocks,
And all goes well, for about a week,
And then the coffin begins to leak!

The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,
The worms play pinochle on your snout.
They eat your eyes, they eat your nose,
They eat the jelly between your toes.

A great big worm with rolling eyes,
Crawls in your stomach and out your eyes,
Your stomach turns a slimy green,
And pus pours out like whipping cream.

You spread it on a slice of bread,
And that's what worms eat when you are dead
Figures, Soren's too busy to do something positive.  He thinks putting a smiling face in every message is positivity.

Heretic is a terrible player, always has been.  No wonder PoTM numbers are dwindling *sigh*

Aldarris

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Re: The Madness and Horror of Vicho Cain. "GeT AwAy FroM -ME-!!!"
« Reply #3 on: January 07, 2010, 01:39:39 PM »
I LOOK BACK ON ALL I'VE CHOSEN TO SEE.  BUT WAS IT REALLY CHOSEN BY ME?  COULD IT STILL BE THERE, LINGERING...LIKE A PARASITE...INSECENT THING.  NO, I FEEL IT GONE, AND MY MIND IS FREE.  AND I AM WHAT I'VE CHOSEN TO BE.  REFORMED ANEW, SWEET MELANCHOLY.  FOR WHAT IS LIGHT WITHOUT THE DARK?  IT IS NOTHING, PERHAPS MERELY A SPARK.  AND WHAT IS DARK WITHOUT THE LIGHT?  IT IS A CRUEL, AND ENDLESS OLD NIGHT.

AND I AM GOOD, AS WELL AS EVIL.  INSIDE ME THERE IS NO FIGHT, NO UPHEAVEL.  THERE ARE ONLY THE VOICES INSIDE MY HEAD.

STATING: "EveRyOnE iS BeTTeR aLIVe ThaN DeaD"

BUT I DO NOT WHOLE-HEARTEDLY AGREE.  FOR DEATH IS A SWEET EPIPHONY.  IT IS A GIFT AFTER SORROW AND PAIN...PUNISHES YOU WITHOUT REFRAIN.  BUT I MUST LIVE SO OTHERS CAN SEE, THE SORROW AND PAIN THAT LIFE CAN BRING, AND HOW BEAUTIFUL IT CAN BE, A BEAUTIFUL THING.

YET DEATH IS THE ONLY THING ABOUT ME THEY SHALL SING.

I KILLED THE VIRGIN, HER VOICE SO SWEET.  AND SHE SMILED AT ME WEARING ROBE AND BARE FEET.  SHE WAS YOUNG, SO YOUNG, TOO YOUNG IN FACT.  BUT AT THE TIME MY SANITY DID LACK.  A FRIENDSHIP I BUILT IN SUCH SHORT TIME, AND MY PRESENCE SHE THOUGHT TO BE DIVINE.  HER TRUST IN ME WAS BEYOND COMPARE.  SHE TRUELY WOULD FOLLOW ME ANYWHERE.  SO INTO THE GRAVEYARD HER BODY I LED.  IT WAS SO SWEET, AND NO FEELING OF DREAD.  SHE SMILED AT ME, ENJOYING THE NIGHT...BUT MY HAND DID RAISE, AND TO HER FRIGHT...SHE DID COMBUST, AND WHAT A SIGHT!  SHE SCREAMED IN SUCH SWEET AGONY, THINKING OF DEATH AND WHAT SHE NEVER COULD BE.  FOR THAT IS WHAT THE YOUNG THINK OF WHEN THEY DIE.  THEY HAVE YET TO DO SO MUCH, WHEN DEATH COMES TO PRY.  SO AS SHE BURNED IN HER LAST REVELATION, I SHOVED HER STILL ALIVE IN THE CASKET WITHOUT HESITATION.  SIX FEET UNDER SHE BECAME, UNTIL SWEET SUFFOCATION EASED HER PAIN.  AND THERE SHE WILL FOREVER REMAIN...

I KILLED THE PRIEST, HE WAS SO TRUE.  EVEN AS HIS FACE TURNED BLUE.  FOR THATS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DROWN.  BUT NOT IN A TUB, OR A LAKE IN THE GROUND.  NO, INDEED, MY PLAN WAS SOUND.  STRAPPED TO A SURGICAL HEALING TABLE, THE IRONY IS HEALING I WOULD NOT ENABLE.  I WHEELED INTO VIEW, AN IMPRESSIVE MACHINE.  IT WAS GLORIOUS, COMPLEX, AND REMARKABLY CLEAN.  AND AS HE WITNESSED IT, DESPITE HIMSELF, HE CRIED FOR HELP...PATHETIC WHELP.  FOR PRAYERS ARE VERBAL AND SOMANTIC AS WELL, AND GAGGED AND TIED AS HE TRIED, HE WAS SURELY IN HELL.  HIS CHEST I DID BARE, AND GAVE QUITE A SCARE, AS MY PLAN I EXPLAINED TO HIM NOW SO AWARE.  FOR HOW CRUEL WOULD IT BE TO DROWN, SURROUNDED BY AIR...?  HE PLEADED AND BEGGED, BUT NO MERCY HE FOUND, EVEN AS I SHOVED THE NEEDLES INTO HIS LUNGS.  AND BIT BY BIT I REVELED IN THE SOUNDS...OF THE WAILING CRIES HE MADE WITH HIS TONGUE.  BIT, BY BIT, I TURNED THE CRANK...AND SO I WATCHED AND HIS HEART IT SANK.  HIS LUNGS FILLED WITH THE PRECIOUS FLUID OF LIFE.  IRONIC IT WAS, IN ALL THE STRIFE.  TO NOT BE KILLED BY A CREATURE OR KNIFE, BUT THE THING NECESSARY THE MOST FOR THERE TO BE LIFE.  I AM SURE HE REALIZED HIS FOLLY, AS HIS HEART DID STOP AND EYES BECAME FOGGY...AND HIS LUNGS AND HIS PANTS BECAME OH SO SOGGY.

I KILLED THE DWARF.  THE BEST BETRAYAL.  FOR ALL HE LOVED WAS HIS PLAN AND ALE.  ALL HE WANTED WAS TO RESURRECT, THE DEN OF KNAVES HE DEARLY KEPT.  INFORMATION HE GRANTED, AND GIFTS THAT WERE FINE...BUT I FELT THIS TO BE A WASTE OF MY TIME.  SO HELP ME HE DID, HE WAS VERY SWEET.  EVEN AFTER I TURNED HIM INTO ROTTING MEAT.  DESPITE HIS STRENGTH, AND HIS OVERLY LARGE AXE, WHEN I STRAPPED HIM TO THE TABLE HE SEEMED SOMEWHAT LAX.  WHEN HE AWOKE, HE PLEADED WITH ME, AND THE SOUND WAS SUCH REVERIE.  I PUNCTURED THE SCALPEL INTO HIS CHEST, AND THEN I DID WHAT I DO BEST.  I DISECTED HIM, THAT LITTLE ORGANISM, AND HE CRIED SO IN SUPERIOR SCHISM.  I SHOWED HIM ALL THAT HE REALLY WAS, AND HE YELLED AND THREATENED ME SIMPLY BECAUSE.  SO I SQUEEZED HIS HEART CRUELY UNTIL IT STOPPED, AND THEN AS HE DIED I DID HEAR IT POP, AND INTO THE SEWERS LIKE #$%^ DID HE DROP!"

I KILLED TWO SOULS WITH ONE WELL THROWN STONE.  IT WAS GRAND THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, HAD I KNOWN.  FOR A MAN WAS KILLED, AND HIS CORPSE WAS EATEN.  IT SEEMED HE INDEED HAD BEEN BEATEN.  THE SPIRIT WANDERED, THE SPIRIT LINGERED.  WANTING SO DESPERATELY TO POINT IT'S FINGER.  AND THE MAN'S WIFE SHE CAME TO ME, FOR SOMETHING TO BE DONE, SINCE I COULD SEE.  OH WHAT FUN!  SO I SENT JULIA OFF TO FIND, A BAROVIAN MAN WHO WAS WORTH MY TIME.  AND WHEN HE WAS THROWN FROM HIS BURLAP SACK, HE WAS QUITE A BIT TAKEN ABACK.  FOR IN MY HAND I HELD THAT OF THE POOR EATEN SOUL, THAT WANTED SO DESPERATELY TO BE WHOLE.  AND AS I SANK THE SOUL GEM INTO HIS BRAIN, PAVEL'S SHELL SLOWLY BECAME THAT OF THE MAN WHO SEEMED QUITE SANE. WHAT HAD I DONE?  HAD A GOD I BECOME?  FOR I RESURRECTED THE DEAD, BUT SOON I FOUND I CREATED ONLY MADNESS INSTEAD.  FOR 'PAVEL' CLINGED SO DESPERATE TO LIFE, AND CREATED WITHIN THEM -MADENING- STRIFE.  AND LATER I WATCHED IT ALL.  PAVEL, THE EATEN...THEIR ONE BODY FALL.  IT STRUCK THE SIDE OF THE TOWER, AND THEIR NECK IT DID SNAP, AS HUNG FROM THE TOWER THEY TOOK A DIRT NAP.

BUT LIFE REQUIRES DEATH, SACRIFICES TO BE MADE.  AND SO MY HOMOCIDAL STREAK I'VE RECENTLY STAYED.  UNTIL THE TIME COMES FOR MORE EXAMPLES TO BE MADE.

I AM BOTH GOOD AND EVIL.  AND I HAVE NOTHING TO GAIN.  ONLY TO GIVE...

I AM VICHO CAIN!
« Last Edit: January 07, 2010, 01:45:16 PM by Aldarris »
Figures, Soren's too busy to do something positive.  He thinks putting a smiling face in every message is positivity.

Heretic is a terrible player, always has been.  No wonder PoTM numbers are dwindling *sigh*

Aldarris

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Re: The Madness and Horror of Vicho Cain. "GeT AwAy FroM -ME-!!!"
« Reply #4 on: January 19, 2010, 09:18:42 PM »
LO! 't is a gala night   
  Within the lonesome latter years.   
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight   
  In veils, and drowned in tears,   
Sit in a theatre to see            5
  A play of hopes and fears,   
While the orchestra breathes fitfully   
  The music of the spheres.   
 
Mimes, in the form of God on high,   
  Mutter and mumble low,     10
And hither and thither fly;   
  Mere puppets they, who come and go   
At bidding of vast formless things   
  That shift the scenery to and fro,   
Flapping from out their condor wings     15
  Invisible Woe.   
 
That motley drama—oh, be sure   
  It shall not be forgot!   
With its Phantom chased for evermore   
  By a crowd that seize it not,     20
Through a circle that ever returneth in   
  To the self-same spot;   
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,   
  And Horror the soul of the plot.   
 
But see amid the mimic rout     25
  A crawling shape intrude:   
A blood-red thing that writhes from out   
  The scenic solitude!   
It writhes—it writhes!—with mortal pangs   
  The mimes become its food,     30
  And over each quivering form   
  In human gore imbued.   
 
Out—out are the lights—out all!   
  And over each quivering form   
The curtain, a funeral pall,     35
  Comes down with the rush of a storm,   
While the angels, all pallid and wan,   
  Uprising, unveiling, affirm   
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"   
  And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.

//Poem by Edgar Alan Poe, complements of Shanka108
Figures, Soren's too busy to do something positive.  He thinks putting a smiling face in every message is positivity.

Heretic is a terrible player, always has been.  No wonder PoTM numbers are dwindling *sigh*