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They say that in a second before you die your whole life runs before your eyes. I wonder, what did she see?

Better worry about what you will see in just a moment.


Perspective: Keeper of Memory


Time is so… Fleeting. And so… Pointless, irrelevant. You people hurry away, feeling time slipping between your fingers. You try to be faster and faster. You create vehicles to cross larger distances at a faster rate. You create computers to calculate faster. You are obsessed with speed, you know, and you are always suffering from this obsession.

You put the pedal to the metal to go faster and, in the end simply end up in a wall headfirst, brains falling out of your own skull. Crushed ribs, compressed spine. You are not speeding to someone, but to this. To the trauma, to the ultimate death. You want everything and you want it now, and that desire kills you.

You have no patience. You know not of its value. Time is a measure, yes, but it does not mean, you need to rush. Sometimes you do not need to hectically search for an answer: you need to just wait a bit for it to appear in your brain. Relax and wait. Otherwise, you will end up like these miserable folk. Even though it may be fun to watch their very own rushed stupidity, their lives are so… Useless.

I mean, take Craig here for example. A regular facedancer. But with practically no self-esteem. Agreed, his species is being hunted down, restricted, and all that, but is that not ‘cause of its power? "Mere facedancer", huh? Play your cards, right, be patient, wait it out, use the faces, that you need at the exact moment, and glory will come to you. You have all the tools, why not use them properly? Why do you, instead, go for a promise of quick fame? Why do you choose to believe in someone else’s faith?

Someone comes to you, a suspicious person, at best, tells you stories of a glorious world, that you can help built if only you served him a favor. And you rush to say "yes". Are you, like, stupid? Or blind? Do you not understand that I am simply using you for my own amusement? Why are you so quick to believe in my fake faith in you, instead of believing in yourself?

Because you look back and feel, that in the long time you’ve been living you have not achieved anything. Idiot. Firstly, the time you lived is not that long, actually. For the history of the universe it’s just a mere second. And that second… Well, you lived it, right? A shitty live, perhaps, but still a life. Is that not why your kind celebrate birthdays? To remind yourselves, that you did achieve at least something, that is, you lived till this very day?

But no. You decided that it’s not enough. You wanted to make a world a better place and fast. What you got in return? A bullet in the head and my thanks for your sacrifice. Dead words on dead ears. Pointless, so pointless… Fifteen seconds of fame localized in one café and then eternity of nothingness. Good for you.

And this one? Eugenie Ohlov. He simply could not keep his dick in the pants. Was he lacking sex in his life or something? What’s the point in pursuing this debauchery? A worthless daily routine, wake up, go to work you hate, get drunk afterwards, get a hooker. A lazy-ass routine, if you ask me. All because he wanted to rush things. Get money fast, get women fast. Instead of working at it step by step and then getting satisfied by the result you actually struggled to achieve all you get is myriad of failures that suck your life out even better than those hookers suck out your sperm.

And what is the prize, again? Oh, yeah, lying on the bar with nose smashed in so hard the brain damage becomes permanent. A vegetable with blue balls. Was it worth it? For me, yes, since I got a cool show to watch, but for him? Dunno, he does not answer my dead words, too. Hope he is satisfied by the outcome, though.

There is also this passerby. Michael Dochenkov was too quick to hang on to a golden coin handed over to him for appraisal. Because money is believed to be power. He did not think it was weird, that this coin is so big, that it has been given to him by Aleksandr Voronin, as if it was nothing. Now he is sitting dead, bitten by the dragon from the coin’s surface. The dragon is gnawing at his neck. Because I do not need loose ends. Especially if they are so boring.

Speaking of Aleksandr, he is useless, too, even though he was able to provide me with a juicy, gory fight-scene. He and his friends were too quick to grab the gold coins, too. It did not bother them that I appeared out of thin air, offered them to beat up a guy for a bag of gold coins. Those with the live dragons on them.

It did not bother them that some random guy in black robe with red thread along the edges even told them where and when to wait – right there, where they were standing initially, around nine in the next morning. It did not bother them that the coins actually did contain a high percentage of gold in them, too. Why would they be bothered, if just in a few hours they could become rich beyond their petty dreams? I mean, they did have some inner-circle bickering ‘cause of some doubts, but all they were actually thinking was gold, so doubts did not live long. And neither did them, too.

You see, this was one of the points, where I had to interfere. Well, maybe did not have to, but wanted to so badly, I could not (would not) resist the urge. I wanted to see what will happen to Dmitry when he realizes how destructive his power was. And considering how euphoric he already felt, I was expecting some glorious stuff. And he did deliver.

Wishing for money the 3 losers were waiting for him and the appointed time they did see Dmitry, whose mental picture I implanted into them. They followed him slowly, weighing him down, evaluating. But he still felt their lust and ran. Drunk on adrenaline he ran into a dead end. The gang followed him there, of course, because, who of humans would deny themselves easy money? Smash the skull of such a weakling? Easy. That’s what they thought, at least.

- No point in running, - said the bald guy in the trio. He had a wooden plank in his hand, and he started swinging it, but when it has just a few millimeters left to hit Dmitry’s head, our story’s hero turned and punched the plank straight through. He grabbed his enemy’s neck with the same hand, lifting him slightly off the ground. Blood was pouring from under his hand and the eyes got the color almost identical to it.

The second guy ran towards Dmitry, but he just waved him away: just a slight slap on the head turned it flat, spurting pieces of bone and brain and drops of blood. The body, now practically headless, flew away into the wall, bending the brick close to breaking it. Leaving a mark as in the comics. Dmitry dropped the first guy and turned to Aleksandr, the last one remaining from the gang.

Aleksandr wanted to flee, but not sooner than after two steps he felt something coming through his stomach and stopped, staring at a huge bone-like stake with torn up guts over it and blood spilling from the gushing wound. He fell to his knees, losing breath, feeling the iron in his mouth. The guy was almost dead already, but Dmitry did not stop there.

He walked up to him, bone-like claws crawling out of his right hand, as if those of Wolverine, the one from the comics. Raised arm falling down… Crushing the skull bone, cutting the brain, then crushing the jawbone, ripping throat, tearing out the upper part of the spine… I shudder remembering how halves of Aleksandr’s head hanged on his neck skin, stretched to its limit, under the weight of the meat slowly sliding off the skull parts. I wanted to thank Aleksandr, for being so impatient, since it is his impatience that allowed such a good juicy scene. It was brief, yes, but so satisfying.

Oh, and did I mention, that there was some fire afterwards? There was a guy peeking from behind the corner. Dmitry felt his gaze and in a blink of an eye turned up beside him, hand in the gut, tearing his stomach. Acid just started its dirty work on the poor bastard’s innards as Dmitry fired him up as a pagan ritual doll. He held the guy by his spine until there was just ash.

I so wanted to thank all these losers for helping me stage such a spectacle, but alas! They were frigging dead! My words would not be able to reach them anyway. The dead do not need the words of the living. To be honest, I shed a small tear of joy and pride every time I remember this.

Too bad, that quite soon afterwards Paul ruined my mood. He was showing promise in how he was slowly evolving, slowly fitting into the world I was creating. And then he just had to go and fucking die. He does not even deserve my words. They are dead on him. Such disappointment.


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