The Edge Of Sanity

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Soul-Kun, Dec 24, 2013.

  1. "Often, we see things that we know aren't real. That is what we call fear."

    A rather dark figure emerges from the shadows; the figure still covered in a blanket of darkness concealing its identity, but enough to show that it is in fact real.

    "And other times, we can't really see what is real, this is what we know as, the fear of the unknown."

    The figure starts to raise an arm, and a light appears. A dim flame in the darkness, enough to show his face. A dark old dusty face. Only the lower half was visible, and the figure began to light a cigarette. The light was gone, and in a puff of smoke, the figure leaned back into the shadows. The only part of him visible was the red glow from the stick.

    "This life has all been given to us to live, and now we all cower in fear. A deity put us on this world, and we did not believe that. Fear invokes us now, we know what it is capable of, and it wants us to be put through these trails. We are all failing."

    The figure throws the still hot butt of the coffin nail to the left. It bounces once and hits the ground, lighting up a small fire, that then circles around the a door, lighting up the room. The room was a large prision cell, and it was full of people watching these events unfold. All of them their for a reason. A sign above the door read "This is the path to hell." The figure was now visible, it was what seemed to be a old man, skin and bones. He looked up to reveal a lack of eyes.

    "Welcome to the edge."

    Then he was gone.

    Edward Heiager a man in his late twenties stood on the right side of the door, shackled up. He was in a brown worn leather jacket and blue jeans. His hands stained with grease and blood. His hair was slightly long and shaggy, he was blond but he was covered in what seemed to be a layer of dirt. He had a nothing but long scruff on his face, and a small scar on his left cheek. He planted his hands on the ground and slowly lifted himself up, and pulled on his chains as they snapped as if they were made of plastic. His lack of effort made it known that he didn't do that from his strength, the chains were frail and flimsy. He toke a step forward and looked around the room. Waiting for someone else to take a stand with him.
  2. She'd long ago broken her chains free and stood among the befuddled crowd listening to the drawl of the dark figure. Her dull eyes were like black mirrors reflecting no emotion and showing to signs of hope. Her body was frail and on the verge of emaciation, her paper thin skin pulsing with life with each breath she took. A flapper dress draped her skin and bones parts of it torn and dangling helplessly while her stockings were moth eaten and showed the bruises and scars beneath. When the light erupted around her she instinctively shielded her sensitive eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the room. Her eyes first fell upon the sign above the door "This is the path to hell." Then to the young Edward Heiager, the mutt of the crowd trying to perhaps rally others to his side, his cause.

    Once more her dark eyes moved to trace the letters over the doorway. Path to hell. As if a moth drawn to the light surrounding the door, she reached out with both fear and unknown longing. Her thin fingers, the nails painted crimson, almost appeared in her sight to touch the glorious exit she sought. All the while she was just an apparent sheep among many moving forward toward the scrappy gentleman named Edward Heiager. She drew herself as far as his pathetic form and her hand suddenly fell and her footsteps stopped. Through parched lips she spoke while her head turned and her eyes met his, "Where are we?"
  3. As this girl approached Edward, they got into what seemed to be a stare down. The too both had some thing wrong with them, and they have done something terrible in the past. That is why they are in this hell after all. Both past's concealed, Edward knew that he would have to make temporary friends with this women, and everyone else in the room in order to have a chance to face what is ahead.

    The fire flickered as the too looked at each other, only few words exchanged. Edward was a quiet one, always to himself. In response to the question, Edward replied with a short and simple "Hell, we are in hell".

    He looked at her and nodded, he knew that everyone in this room had some sort of past, some good reason to be here. This was the room before the terror. Their suffering was only starting, and soon, insanity will develop, and consume them.
  4. The thoughts of what could lie behind that doorway almost excited her. The young girl bit her lower lip, nearly drawing blood as her eyes gazed in awe upon the door before them. Hell, this was hell? What about heaven? What then could constitute a heaven and what could she have possibly done to deserve to be here? With those muddled thoughts her head began to pound as she closed her eyes tightly and pressed her hands against her forehead. Swirling images and stabbing pain was all that greeted her as she tried to scream, but nothing came out.

    This little episode lasted only a few moments and soon her hands fell limp to her sides and she stared on as if nothing had happened. Had something just happened? once more she turned to Edward, "What is your name? Mine is Penelope."
  5. "Edward" he replied, in a very soft, but still stern tone.

    He knew what he has done, and what he did was not good. He knew he deserved to be here, but he had trouble accepting it. The flames flickered again, but this time the glow was brighter and more intense. The stain of blood on Edwards hands and face was very evident. His eyes wide open, staring at the ground now. To believe that hell was real, and this was his fate. He fell to his knees, still with the same expression on his face, an expression that was nothing more than disbelief. Edward was starting to figure out what was going on, his past has come back to him. The life he thought he ran away from, now back to haunt him. He couldn't run from his past, the sins he committed were always with him, he always just ran from them. His face did not change, but a single tear ran down his face. as he looked down his longer hair covered most of his face. He was not willing to accept his fate this easily, he was a fighter. Though, how much fighting can you do versus hell itself?

    Edward punched the ground, a small puff of smoke filled the air around him. The ground was nothing but ashes, and under it was brimstone that slightly burnt his hand from heat. Still though, he wondered why there was a door, maybe this was a chance for him to redeem himself. Even if it wasn't the glimmer of hope was all these people had left.
  6. Penelope nodded her head faintly as Edward gave his name and had some sort of epiphany. She let him be, her eyes only transfixed on the doorway and the words above it. This was hell, this was always hell. Was she here long? She didn't know, but she did know that a mind was a dangerous thing in hell; as was the weight of ones crimes in life to cause such punishments. Finally her dark eyes moved from the door she was so transfixed on and fell upon the sight before her. Her first thoughts were 'pathetic' however she voiced not that single demeaning word. Instead she turned her back to Edward a moment, "Ye who enter, abandon all hope--Through me you go into a city of weeping; through me you go into eternal pain; through me you go amongst the lost people..." she quoted quietly but loud enough to be heard.

    Emotionless, almost cold, her eyes cast again to Edward, "if it's redemption you seek, give up those hopes, just as Virgil spoke to Dante--If this truly is hell there is no hope left." There was no point in her staying in this room. Though Edward claimed his name to her, she wasn't one to seek a companion in her own journey through insanity. If there was a door, there was a purpose for it being there. Edward could make his own decision, but her's was long ago made to enter through those doors. Without abandon she pushed through the moping crowd toward the doorway.