Paradise Lost

Paradise Lost

Written by: ShadowofaDoubt

Notes:

Yep, this is my attempt at writing a story. Comments from me will be posted the post AFTER the actual chapter. This story gets very philosophy-heavy at times, so don’t forget to wear your thinking cap while reading!


Prologue: Innocent Beginnings

It was, as most nights are, a shaded and sunless sky, darkened puff ball clouds passing overhead and masking the brilliance and white of an illuminating full moon. This beautiful night seemed at odds with the landscape below, as barren and plain it was. The particular town in question was long sense abandoned as evinced by the run-down and messily kept houses. The very air almost felt as though something terribly, terribly wrong had happened.

The town’s sacred church lay in ruins; its stained glass was left fractured and shattered on the dying brown grass and the once so pure white ivory pillars, now withered and worn into a dull and careless grey, torn asunder off their foundation as though struck by a tremendous force. There were no people to be found here in this small town, though one may find the sickening and often skeletal remains of a victim of the slaughter. Crimson blood stains once, now little more than black smears, cover particular buildings. The local inn, now a wolf den in both a literal and allegorical sense, in a depressive state of disrepair as no one dare come near it, is one of these buildings. Its wood foundation is so decrepit often the floor splinters apart upon contact due to years of termites and harsh weather penetrating from the half broken rooftop and chipped off chimney.

Another would be what the market place was. Once it was a place of trade and barter and now nothing more than remains of a slaughter so repulsive and repugnant recollection is agonizing. Still, it must be said. Rooms, entire rooms, are filled with rotting and decaying corpses; it is a den of parasites and pests; a veritable temple of the dead. Like the inn, the wood that comprises the building is now frail and barely able to support itself. But, surely, you have heard enough of what this town has become. It is a place of death, suffering, and pain. The wake of a monster so insidious it was never known how terrible and cursed we truly were until it was too late…I’m so sorry, I get wrapped up in my explanations sometimes… you were saying?

Oh, you wonder who I may be. I see. This isn’t, of course, so unusual and perhaps even understandable given your position, uninformed as you are. I am unimportant, a mere spectator in the events that have transpired in this town I have described to you. Still, while I may be meaningless, at least let my words; nay, my very memories be of some use to make things more clear to you and others. Perhaps you may prevent the downfall of your own village by learning how we failed so you might not be as unfortunate as we. My tale is long and it may take some time to fully articulate, but perhaps you may be interested in what I have to say on what happened to the little town called Silverfield…

This post has been edited by Anonymiss on May 28 2008, 03:23 AM

Chapter One: Such subtle winds do blow...

It was once a time of pleasure and happiness, before the ruining to come. The sky was bright and cheery, a beautifully light blue, the sun itself seemed to smile from its spot in the sky and would continue forever to do so, or we thought. The fields surrounding Silverfield were a healthy shade of green and the farm lands rich with food. It was a prosperous time, suffice to say. Perhaps it was something in the air for such subtle winds do blow, foretelling all things ominous and diabolical, but someone would at least notice something was disturbed in this tranquil life. One of the older residents of Silverfield, an old and decidedly disgruntled pair, were tending to their private screen-housed garden. It was simple and neat, as they themselves lived, with a small variety of roses and violets of various shades that would smell so heavenly when one was inside. This time, however, they found a small child in their garden.

Quiet noises came from her, liquid running down her smooth, young face at a steady pace; she was crying, but trying not to be obvious about it. In her all white gown with large and equally light white hat, she had her head tucked down and stared at the ground, utterly lost in her abyss of sadness. She would find no sympathy in the older couple who owned this garden. “Who are you?!” The old woman almost demanded from her, concerned more over her possessions than the girl’s reason for crying. She had just come back from inside and was shocked to see someone else there. The elderly woman was dressed in an almost Amish looking outfit, with a black dress that bore white counter patterns. Her caucasian face was wrinkled and her form was rigid and stiff, as if never wanting to be left off-guard. “And why are you here?!” Rather than answer, the white-clad girl just sobbed harder, sounding as if something truly wicked and terrible befell her. Something may have seemed wrong, but this didn’t seem to bother the older woman at all. “I’ll have you know that you’re trespassing on private property! I can have you arrested!” The elderly woman threatened, again making demands on the girl in a very cold manner. When the girl still didn’t leave, the old woman turned to call her equally old husband.

“Ferny! Get yourself out here right now!” The so-called ‘Ferny’, the wife’s husband Fernando, was inside the green house as hastily as his aged body would allow for. “Yes, Agatha? What is it?” Like his wife, Fernando was dressed as if Amish; a jet black suit, pants, and hat, along with a proud beard that was at least five inches of brown hair. He was tired from having come so fast, but this didn’t interfere with his speech any. “There’s a girl here that won’t leave the garden!” The now named wife declared, pointing behind her to show her husband where she was. When she did that, however, all Fernando did was look puzzled. “What girl, dear? I don’t see anyone.” Agatha looked alarmed and turned around, confirming the story. The little girl was gone! “But she was right there! I saw her!” Agatha was incredulous; she would’ve noticed if she tried to leave! How did that girl manage to slip right past her!? “Let’s just go back inside,” Fernando suggested, smiling reassuringly as he did so. “I’m sure all it was all just the sun getting to you. The Priest told us to be careful about staying out in the sun for so long, after all.” The old wife hesitated, as if not believing what she saw was a genuine mirage of some kind, but ultimately conceded and the pair walked back inside their home. What they didn’t notice was the soaked soil just inches ahead of a pair of foot prints within the garden that completely invalidated the notion of a heat-induced hallucination.


Days pass, and with continually frequent appearances of the girl in white. Every time she arrived she would be crying more and more loudly, her sobbing voice more and more gut-wrenching to simply hear. Both of them had heard her and could not dismiss it as a work of fiction within their minds, so the elderly couple had tried to ignore her by simply not visiting the garden they cherished. Their logic was that they could make a new one after the girl left them, which she would if not given any attention. They were to be proven very, very wrong. Though asleep at first, Agatha awoke with a start at the crash of a lamp. Her husband was oddly quiet even for a old sleeping man, but that didn’t matter too much to the old woman as she was a tad busy wondering how their lamp fell. Their bedroom, like most other rooms in their home, was very plain and minimally decorated. The simple white lamp was placed squarely on a brown oak nightstand not more than a foot high, yet it fell in such a way that would be impossible for it to. The nightstand was on Fernando’s side of the bed, but it was out of his reach. Besides that, it was broken where it stood, as if crushed from above. Every piece, it seemed from her vantage point anyway, was still on the table.

Frightened, Agatha tried to wake up Fernando in her usual method, by shaking him, but he didn’t stir at all. He was completely out cold, snoring peacefully. While still trying, Agatha felt a tremendous chill settle in the room that was not characteristic of it at all. Shivering involuntarily, Agatha just looked around the room as if trying to discern who was responsible for this and then she locked eyes with the girl from the garden, now clad in black as if in a funeral. Inexplicable terror befell the old woman and Agatha tried to scream, but even though she could move her mouth nothing would come out. She couldn’t move her body otherwise no matter how hard she tried, and the girl walked right up to her to ask a tearful question, for it was her way to be this upset. Before the girl could say anything, Agatha opened her eyes widely as she quickly leaped up into a near sitting position, gasping for air as her hands held her upper torso above the bed. She had just been dreaming. She had to have just been dreaming. It was just a nightmare, nothing more. Turning her head to the nightstand, however, made her entire body shake with fear. The lamp that decorated that nightstand for twenty someodd years was broken, crushed as if from above. Maybe it wasn’t a dream after all…

This post has been edited by Anonymiss on May 28 2008, 03:24 AM

wow...

*didn't actually read it*

you wrote a lot....

THAT is the best you can do? Just "wow that's a lot of words"?

I'd comment but I have characters that haven't been used yet. I'll wait till then.

Hey Owl, don't post pointlessness in a fanfiction thread.

No one likes a "tl;dr".

Chapter 2: A woman scorned…

Agatha found it difficult to go back to sleep that night. Fortunately for her, the sun rose quickly and the time prior was devoid of encountered from the crying girl. Soon it was morning, with the old couple sitting down at their table eating breakfast. “Fernando,” Agatha started to explain suddenly after putting her fork down. She had already finished her small portion of eggs and bacon. “I saw that girl again last night. It… seemed so strange, but...” The elderly woman sounded genuinely frightened as she began to explain what happened to her the night before. This fear was accented by an involuntary shiver that ran down her spine after she finished explaining. “I think we should go see the priest. He can probably do something about her.” Agatha concluded, her fears confided.

Fernando had his doubts, of course. They were long gone when he saw the broken lamp for himself, but he did have them at some point. Heat stress, lack of water… anything seemed a good reason for why the girl was around, but this was just too much. “All right, we’ll go see Father Joseph. With any luck, we can get rid of the girl. Just as long as she’s out of our lives, I don’t care what happens afterwards.” Fernando was tired of dealing with the ghostly girl. A trespasser, even one from beyond the grave, wasn’t welcome in their home. Still, the bitter irony in which events would soon take place seems to support Fernando exactly and entirely as detailed, regardless of his ignorance of it at the time. Similarly, the two of them were also not aware they were being watched by a pair of sorrowful eyes in a mirror that bore just the slightest hint of resentment.

It took the couple little time to get out of their house. Yes, it was up on a hill that loomed over Silverfield almost ominously, but the incline was far less steep than it at first appeared. The house was a simple yet well-painted sky blue that accented it well; it almost seemed to be part of the sky. At their own decidedly slow pace, the pair walked down the hill and into the village, keeping to themselves. Silverfield itself, while small in population, was a half-way point between many bigger cities. As a result, few people are more than temporary residents, but sales at the local Inn are booming. Also as a result of this, Silverfield sees many strange and curious sights, so nobody is too surprised by the occasional odd thing that happens. Assuming it isn’t constant and terrifying, of course; then it’s an entirely different story. The pathway walked by the husband and wife was worn down and almost sandy, which caused small dust storms every so often when the wind would pick up. This was nowhere near bad for the village, as it just meant more time in the local taverns, inn, or whatever house was nearby. Of course, there was another house that welcomed people in, for whatever their reasons.

It was the Church of Sophia. It was a proud, tall building that bore four pure, brilliantly white ivory pillars just outside the narthex, or entrance. The building itself was made of pewter stone and lighter grey marble, over the years it was reinforced repeatedly as the Church aged. Agatha and Fernando both, even after all these years, still marveled at its beauty. It was truly a magnificent sight from the outside, but as the couple walked inside into the nave, or main hall, of the structure it became far more beautiful. On both of the broad west and east walls were rows of stained glass that depicted beautiful scenes of Sophia blessing brilliant minds and prophets alike. It told stories of the origin of wit, its descent into obscurity and death, and its glorious resurrection that promised a golden age of peace and prosperity. To the couple’s more immediate left and right were small rows of aisles, and ahead was the local priest, Joseph Dashski. The temple was in the simple shape of a T, if perhaps with a bulge toward the center of it. The sermon of the day had just concluded, as many of the individuals within the walls were slowly leaving the temple. As these people moved out, the husband and wife walked between the crowds to reach the priest at the apse, or alter. Joseph was currently wearing a Cassock; a long-sleeved, light-weight suit that was ankle length at most and he himself was a young looking man brimming full of hope and joy. A smile never left his face, or so it was often claimed around Silverfield. People had often tried to see if they could remove it, but no such luck was had.

“Father,” Agatha started slowly, sighing as she paused. She never did liked asking for help from anyone, even if she needed it. “We need your assistance.” Immediately, the Father gave the pair his attention, and as always his smile was there. The Bayls were very devout followers of Sophia and frequented the Church regularly. He almost expected them to have a problem given that they were late for the morning sermon. “Of course! What do you need?” The day had been long for him, but he was more than willing to help anyone who needed it. “Well, you see, we have a bit of a ghost problem,” Fernando continued where Agatha left off. “There’s this young girl who keeps bothering us. She just stands there crying. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem, but now she nearly terrified my wife, so we’re hoping you could get rid of her for us.” Joseph still was smiling, but most definitely was very perplexed by the ghost’s nature. “An exorcism? I believe that isn’t necessary as this ghost doesn’t sound malevolent,” Joseph started to explain, then quickly tried to finish before the two could raise any objections as the expression on their faces made clear they were about to do. “But I can bless your house for you. This will effectively do the same thing, but take less time to approve among my fellow clergymen. I’m only looking out for your best interests.” This soothed the couple and calmed them down, both of them agreeing. It would take place as soon as the three could come back to the house.

The return trip back to their home was uneventful, but as the priest walked into their home, Joseph could almost immediately feel a presence that was both unsettling and upsetting. It seems that the Bayls weren’t lying to him, which was comforting. “This shouldn’t take long,” the priest assured the couple, his smile giving Agatha and Fernando some degree of comfort that their problem would soon be leaving. From one of his pockets, the priest retrieved a vial of holy water and flung droplets of it onto the ground. “I bless this house in the name of the Lady Sophia! By Her will shall no spirit but that of Lady Sophia reside within this holy house!” Father Joseph blessed, speaking in passionately and righteously in a tone of voice that commanded respect as he walked around and through each part of the house. By the end of the hour, the entire house was blessed and the priest felt the presence fade away. Pleased with what Joseph had done, the Bayls thanked him for his time and Father Joseph left, going back to the Church. All seemed well… a shame all wasn’t well.

Rei Vitaleva was laying in her bed when she couldn’t help but hear a very loud sound of something crying. Trying to move her head was met with no effect, so she couldn’t see who it was. It was getting very, very cold in the room, though, which made her shiver uncontrollably for a brief moment. After that moment, the woman seemed to be staring at a young girl in a white dress who had a terrifying yet sad expression on her face. She was standing on the roof, or seeming to. Before she could figure out why, the girl in the dress lunged at her… and then she woke up, panting from the scare. It hardly seemed like anything but reality, though it seemed like otherwise. Physically, Rei appeared fine. Her usual blue tank-top and jeans on her were fine, and her blue jacket and black shoes near the chair by her wooden desk also appeared normal. What didn’t was the slight scratch on her right cheek which burned and hurt terribly. Tracing it, the woman was rather unnerved by that the girl in her ‘dream’ seemed to try to claw at that same part of her face when she woke up. “That was scary…” Deciding not to go back to bed, Rei walked into her nearby bathroom to try and treat the scratch… but for a brief second, she thought she saw the girl again. When she went to check, the girl was gone. “What is with me tonight?” The woman asked the room as if it would answer while she tried treating her scratch…

A pair of young girls ‘happened’ to cross paths during the night’s reign. As the moon was aglow, bathing everything in its light, details of them were revealed bit by bit. One had long, dark hair which complimented her dark grey sweater and pale skin. The other had more brown skin and wore a light yellow dress and pink skirt, with more fair skin. “You have the photos, Halcyone-chan?” The second spoke impatiently, and also with a highly annoying habit for honorifics, to the now-named first one, barely able to hide their excitement. “Yes Jessica, I do. You better pay me a lot for these; you have no idea how hard they were to get.” Halcyone shook her head and sighed, seeing the point of this far less as she started handing over at least forty photos of something obviously desired by the second girl.

These photos were of ‘Acubenz’, a talented actor that Jessica seemed to adore. In one of the photographs he was wearing a dark, almost black gray tee shirt that has a pattern of an exotic taste wrapped around the lower left portion of the shirt. A pair of simple faded jeans was held on his lanky jean legs by a leather belt with a golden buckle that clearly read Stardom. The typical type is broken with the addition of a deep-violet beret that is situated atop a flow of dirty-blond hair. Deep violet eyes add onto the colorful aura produced by the rather appealing face of the young man. Crying in a nearby alleyway interrupted the exchange process that would’ve normally been routine at this point. Confused, the two of them walked right into it, heedless to the dangers, only to find a girl in a white dress the owner of the tears and sobs. When she looked up, the two of them froze almost entirely out of sheer terror. The eyes of that girl were so frightening that the two remained fixed where they were even as the girl faded away into nothing.

This girl meant nothing to another individual who couldn’t have been more pleased with the given situation, though. This individual wore a black robe with a purple trim thoroughly and almost excessively stained with blood that it was almost sickening, and was out of the moon light’s range, so could not be furthered discerned so easily. What was easily discernible was what they wished to do to the two women. “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” The robed figure all but screamed as black tendrils that arose from the ground encircled and cocooned the Halcyone and Jessica, the screams of which were muffled by the cocoon of black mire and tendrils. Each filthy and foul tendril had many sharp, if small blade-like scales that slowly made cuts into the flesh of all that touched them. Predictably, blood came out of the skin of the two victims, which only flowed faster thanks to their struggling, and was oddly absorbed by the tendrils as if they were feeding on it. A short time later, after the Halcyone and Jessica had run out of blood to absorb, the presumed fanatic quickly teleported away using a black hole of sorts, not to be seen for the rest of the night.

Moments later, another face showed in the alley. In a brown leather jacket surrounding his black shirt and pants, the man was frustrated at how late he was to the scene of the crime. “Ayin, you cruel bastard…” Nereid cursed the cultist who had committed the gruesome act. It didn’t take much to figure out it was him when you’ve been tracking the guy for a long time like Nereid had. Being a skillful detective also helped, of course, but the most obvious hint it was Ayin was the pair of corpses riddled with cuts yet no sign of blood whatsoever. The second most obvious was the thick feeling of death that permeated the alley like it too was harmed in the attack. As Nereid began to clean up the corpses, he got the feeling he was being watched and immediately turned around with his wrist-mounted crossbow cocked and armed, to simply find a child in a white dress crying. Confused, the detective tried to ask the child who she was, but she faded away long before he could do that.

A very strange looking, albeit cute, turtle quietly walked up into the alley with Nereid still in it. Light green skin and shell were illuminated by the moonlight, along with a pair of orange gloves and a helmet hat with spikes on the top and dragon-like wings to the left and right sides. “Kiwi?” It asked in a sad tone, as if asking the detective if the two people were dead. Nereid only sighed in response, which implied a yes. With that confirmed, the turtle started helping his companion with the corpse-removal. The two of them were a team for awhile, mostly due to Nereid being able to use Kiwi as useful cover and Kiwi being well taken care of. Even Nereid needed some company after awhile, mostly due to the brutal killings he often tried to solve, so having Kiwi was the perfect solution. Thanks to Kiwi’s fire breath, it was a simple matter of roasting the corpses until just their ashes remained. Then they could be scattered elsewhere and the search could continue…

Elsewhere, in a small and quaint home toward the southern edge of town, loud sobs awoke something that appeared terribly 2d from its rest on a plain bed. Thanks to a small window within the room, moonlight could illuminate the figure a bit more. His skin was black, almost so black it was impossible to distinguish him from the dark that the light couldn’t pierce. His small eyes glowed yellow as it awoke, trying to locate the source of the sobbing only to find a small child in his room. “Wha? Who are you?” Still sleepy, Blaec mumbled a question at the girl, who just faded away after another moment. Convinced he had just been dreaming, Blaec just went back to sleep and didn’t give it a second thought.

Finally settling in one area, the girl in the white dress simply stood idly without crying a single tear. Her dress began to subtly shift and change, the girl herself becoming more and more obscured as time went on. It wouldn’t be long until she was finished, but they had ignored her. They brought this on themselves. Though where the girl finally decided to stay at was most curious… she was behind the Church of Sophia. Still transforming, the girl let out one last wail of anguish to announce what would happen. For after all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…

Two friends, sleeping in the same house within Silverfield, both awoke with a start at the sound of a wail. The former still had their red shirt and khaki pants from the day before, the other a teal jacket and blue jeans. Almost simultaneously they asked the other, “Did you hear that?” It became evident they knew each other quite well. A rocky, brown-shelled turtle on the first friend’s left bed side and a blue wyrmling on the right bed side of second friend’s side were both still sound asleep, which was odd but understandable. “Freaky, Corazin… the wind doesn’t usually make that kind of noise.” The first friend sounded spooked, but the now-named Corazin didn’t sound so worried. “Relax, Rannach. Just go back to bed; it can’t be that big a deal. Strange, yeah, but this entire village is strange.” He promptly fell back onto his pillow and tried going back to sleep. Hesitant for some reason, Rannach eventually gave in and did the same. Their home, like many in Silverfield, was minimally decorated but still functional.

Thus marked the end of the reign of the night. Soon the day would begin anew, with more questions to be answered…

This post has been edited by Anonymiss on May 30 2008, 04:04 AM

DAMN that chapter was a female dog to write. 2,857 words in MSWord. Totally worth it, though now I'm too tired to read what I wrote. If there are any typos, you'll forgive me since I wrote this somewhere between 11 pm and 2 in the morning.

Anyway, to answer the posts on the prior chapters:

Please. Chapter 2 is far longer than the Prologue and Chapter 1, even put together. 2857 > 1629.

Though I'd appreciate it if you actually read what I wrote if you want to post comments.

Nothing else really merits any replies, so I'll summarize what happened in Chapter 2:

The plot thickens, every character was introduced, and some more things pertaining to the story are fleshed out. Though not by much. This chapter just allows the reader to know the cast and what they do, though has some nice foreshadowing.

Fun game for the readers: I'm planting subtle clues in the chapters as to who the Narrator is. Throughout the story, feel free to guess who the Narrator of the story is. Just try to cite text from the chapters to prove your point. One guess per chapter in this thread, unless you wanna hop on MSN.

I totally got Red Shirt'd.

Mangs. I shoulda deployed the ineffective ASII when I had the chance. DX

And Tendril sees awesome non-violating usage. I wonder what happens when Ayin's weapon level increases such that he can start using new spells...

Oh wait. Ayin's weapon level in FETO is a C. This gives him access to the Corruption and Poison tomes. Fun fun fun. Next weapon level grants access to Verrine and Eclipse.

I'm JYAP and I approve of this chapter.

I am Rocket, and I totally push JYAP out of the way, and approve this chapter more.


For, while I have no idea what Kayak pants are, they sound incredibly fun to wear.

Heartless wrench. >:|

Despite one of my cast influences dieing, it was an amazing read. I wait eagerly for the next chapter, mainly to see what Shay [assumed to be the girl in the whitedress] becomes.

TYPOS FOR THE BLOOD GOD

wretch*

Waiting for the next chapter.

SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE

Juuuuust an update on Paradise Lost. I'm working on it when I can, but life is sucking hard these days so it's difficult for me to find a block of time to write it up in a manner I like.

This will get done. Don't worry about it.

ok sorry about last post i made, and 2 things

1. interesting story

2. 'Paradise Lost' is a CD by a group called Symphony X, just found that cool

*hopes nobody yells at me anymore*

Paradise Lost in an ancient scripture written by some dood in the 14th century, IIRC. It was a fantasy about things like the legend of Adam and Eve, Lucifer, and other cool things like that.

I'm making my own version of it on Althea, but that's my pokémon journey one, so yeah.

P.S.

HURRY UP, SOAD.

Another Authors Note:

I really don't have the creativity to keep writing this. Either I've been beaten over the head with writer's block or something.

So, if I do update, great. Just don't count on seeing one. It's hard to write when your life is hectic.