Everything is very dark. You can hear an old woman speaking. You see images of ancient cave paintings, of animals, mostly. The old woman calls these gods, the first ones humans ever knew. They were worshipped as gods, and so they are gods. But you deny it; these are devils. You know what you have been taught, and you repeat it: the devil fell from Heaven because he let his desires consume him. As you argue, you are faced alternatively with the old woman and with a young girl in a hood who speaks with the old woman's voice. Sometimes the old woman speaks with the young girl's voice. She/They counter your argument with this: it was not this so-called "Devil" who fell, but God himself, citing the numerous atrocities that were carried out in God's name. You see flashes of images of people burning at the stake. You tell her such things were necessary, to save humanity from its misguided ways. Not out of salvation that God acted, but jealousy, she/they counter. Yes, jealousy that there were those like God, with power to rival Him. Frantically, you keep arguing, but it just goes in circles. The old woman and the hooded girl proclaim: innocent people were annihilated, all for the sake of the jealous ones who craved the power of God that they did not possess. And you carry the blood of those who were sacrificed.
The scene changes, and you are standing in a church. A young woman is bowing before the pietà, draped all in white, praying. The old woman's voice tells you that the girl is praying for the last time before she is condemned to the stake. You slowly approach her, but you freeze, because as soon as she lifts her head you can see--she is you.
The scene changes again. You're alone, and it is dark. The old woman and the hooded girl are both here. They accuse you of hunting your own shadow, and you remember all at once: every person whose blood is on your hands, whose lives you shattered. You hear the sound of a gun cocking from behind, and turn to see... him. That man. Standing right behind you, eyes cold, dispassionately pointing a gun at your head. You're surrounded. They're all pointing their guns at you. Someone like you... has to be put down. You clutch your head and cry out: I'm not like them! Suddenly you're alone again, and the old woman's voice asks you: what makes you so different from them? Was it the belief that you're different, you're special, enough to justify destroying their lives? To propogate centuries of violence? You're shaking, and you break out in a cold sweat. You hear footsteps, and you know that man is behind you again, ready to pull the trigger on you. Someone like you must be taken care of. You're dangerous. You're forsaken. But you need him to understand, you need him to put the gun down and listen. He's not listening. You plead, and plead, and slowly he pulls the trigger...
For a moment, all you see is fire.
You're back in the church again, unharmed. This time, the old woman sits before you at the altar, her body slowly catching fire. But she does not seem pained. She smiles at you, and with a sigh of relief, says that it's been so long now... and it's finally over. You watch her burn into nothing but embers and ash, frozen in shock. Once there is nothing left, you see something on the ground where she burned--it looks like a small wooden stick. You kneel and pick it up, and instantly you understand what it is: a fragment of memory, carrying centuries of knowledge. You pick it up and hold it tightly in your hands, and you feel something stir within you.
You realize vaguely that your eyes are your own again. The man--the real one--approaches and you learn from him that the old woman/the hooded girl was an immortal who could only die by sacred flame. You both suspect that memories of being burned at the stake would be tied strongly to an existence like that. Internally, you think that holding onto memories like that must be too sad to bear.
Later that night, you send a text message to an unknown number, informing the recipient that you have uncovered an ancient relic that may contain incredible and powerful secrets.
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maleficafe) wrote2018-12-09 11:59 pm
Memory Share edition
Your eyes are not your own. You know this.
Everything is very dark. You can hear an old woman speaking. You see images of ancient cave paintings, of animals, mostly. The old woman calls these gods, the first ones humans ever knew. They were worshipped as gods, and so they are gods. But you deny it; these are devils. You know what you have been taught, and you repeat it: the devil fell from Heaven because he let his desires consume him. As you argue, you are faced alternatively with the old woman and with a young girl in a hood who speaks with the old woman's voice. Sometimes the old woman speaks with the young girl's voice. She/They counter your argument with this: it was not this so-called "Devil" who fell, but God himself, citing the numerous atrocities that were carried out in God's name. You see flashes of images of people burning at the stake. You tell her such things were necessary, to save humanity from its misguided ways. Not out of salvation that God acted, but jealousy, she/they counter. Yes, jealousy that there were those like God, with power to rival Him. Frantically, you keep arguing, but it just goes in circles. The old woman and the hooded girl proclaim: innocent people were annihilated, all for the sake of the jealous ones who craved the power of God that they did not possess. And you carry the blood of those who were sacrificed.
The scene changes, and you are standing in a church. A young woman is bowing before the pietà, draped all in white, praying. The old woman's voice tells you that the girl is praying for the last time before she is condemned to the stake. You slowly approach her, but you freeze, because as soon as she lifts her head you can see--she is you.
The scene changes again. You're alone, and it is dark. The old woman and the hooded girl are both here. They accuse you of hunting your own shadow, and you remember all at once: every person whose blood is on your hands, whose lives you shattered. You hear the sound of a gun cocking from behind, and turn to see... him. That man. Standing right behind you, eyes cold, dispassionately pointing a gun at your head. You're surrounded. They're all pointing their guns at you. Someone like you... has to be put down. You clutch your head and cry out: I'm not like them! Suddenly you're alone again, and the old woman's voice asks you: what makes you so different from them? Was it the belief that you're different, you're special, enough to justify destroying their lives? To propogate centuries of violence? You're shaking, and you break out in a cold sweat. You hear footsteps, and you know that man is behind you again, ready to pull the trigger on you. Someone like you must be taken care of. You're dangerous. You're forsaken. But you need him to understand, you need him to put the gun down and listen. He's not listening. You plead, and plead, and slowly he pulls the trigger...
For a moment, all you see is fire.
You're back in the church again, unharmed. This time, the old woman sits before you at the altar, her body slowly catching fire. But she does not seem pained. She smiles at you, and with a sigh of relief, says that it's been so long now... and it's finally over. You watch her burn into nothing but embers and ash, frozen in shock. Once there is nothing left, you see something on the ground where she burned--it looks like a small wooden stick. You kneel and pick it up, and instantly you understand what it is: a fragment of memory, carrying centuries of knowledge. You pick it up and hold it tightly in your hands, and you feel something stir within you.
You realize vaguely that your eyes are your own again. The man--the real one--approaches and you learn from him that the old woman/the hooded girl was an immortal who could only die by sacred flame. You both suspect that memories of being burned at the stake would be tied strongly to an existence like that. Internally, you think that holding onto memories like that must be too sad to bear.
Later that night, you send a text message to an unknown number, informing the recipient that you have uncovered an ancient relic that may contain incredible and powerful secrets.