Havoc In Heaven

Omniscient

Author's Note: This piece was originally written for The Wattpad Block Party: Winter Edition II. The book is the centerpiece of a fantastic twice-yearly event founded and hosted by Captured author KellyAnneBlount . Speaking of which, the second summer event will be taking place soon, so keep your eye out for that. While I was in the first summer block party, I didn't apply this time around, as my schedule doesn't currently allow it—especially with my current responsibilities as an #NBR member.

Still, I hope you all take the time to check it out, because I have little doubt it'll be just as awesome as ever!

Now, as far as the piece itself...I think of it as being like a dramatic narration—a monologue by a character in a play. And to be even more exact, a menacing female voice is what I had in mind as I wrote this.

So, I hope you enjoy!

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Those who speak of me are now bound to the shadows. Some, battle-marred and weary. Others, freshfaced, and having witnessed with horror the wounds inflicted on their predecessors. And there are the ones who walk the line, prowling back and forth, glowering at what they see, always watching and waiting, and dying for a chance - - one chance, every chance - - to make a difference. But they can't ignore the ache in their bodies, hearts, and souls, and they know that much of what they attempt will be futile.

Meanwhile, you. You straighten your suit, you fix your tie, you smirk, you tug your skirt. But I watch. As you go back to your home, and meet your own eyes in the mirror...do you feel it? That...tiny bit of sadness that never quite goes away, no matter what you do. It just touches the back of your neck. A little pinch you can't quite place. That's it. Do you feel it? That's me. Do you feel me? Do you feel me?

Yes? No?

I watch. I float over the cold, shiny floors. Some sterile and plain. Others rich and opulent. I dance around the cold steel and caress the warm mahogany. Your secrets, your sins...whispered, murmured, spoken in a warm, conversational tone, or one of clinical professionalism. It's all business here. All business. My business. It's all my business. It's always been. Every bit of it.

Do you feel me now? The tug on the tattered, green cloth nestled in your pockets, I thought you would feel for sure. Yes! You see me, you feel me! But...you deny me? Still? Still! Endless blank pages scratched with ink, and you force yourself through. You could've turned back. You could've. But you didn't. You won't!

Now. Now! You walk with blurry vision, the world seesawing back and forth. Cold steel again, but solid curves instead of dainty points and slicing edges. Speed. Heat! You gain it all. Beautiful, delirious speed, a whirlwind of force. The weight of the world. Sand, sun, sea. Terra, Sol, Aqua. A crushing pressure, a flash of light and heat, an immersion in pain.

The wetness. The taste in your mouth. Succulent, isn't it? Refreshing? No, a bit too cloying, for it's you. The deepest parts of you. Yet you hate it. It's repulsive.

You amuse me.

Breathe. Can you breathe? Yes, breathe. But don't move; you can't move. Come now, don't you feel me? I'm right here. Right in front of you. I think you can see me all around. Just waiting. We're all friends here. Fur. Silky, black-and-white fur, long and whispy. Cheerful jingling. Clicks across hardwood. Heavy breaths. A red length of cotton woven together. No. Not today. A few scratches will have to do. Guilt. Can you feel that? The sweetest brown eyes you've ever seen.

If you want it, then it is. If you don't, then it is not. If someone takes it, it is. If you throw it away, it is not. Its presence is to mean nothing, yet something is always expected. We should all be concerned with you, yet mind our own business. Are you? Or are you not? You are a great inconvenience. You are nothing to me in scope. A few cells clustered in a universe, and you demand rights of me? You bother me.

Pills. 10, 4, 1 a day. I follow them. Watch my handiwork. Our handiwork? Yes, our handiwork. That is correct. We are artists of the dangerous and demented sort. You and I. We tango. I pull, tug, weaken defenses. Our guests! Let them in, let them in. And what leaves? It will leave. You can no longer hold it in. But you! Don't leave. You can't leave. Water. Soap. You need more. Ruined denim. Tainted porcelain. On your knees now. On your knees! Don't you see? You worship this, and it demands that you kneel. Once, twice. Squeezing. Tremors. It's done.

Night. For sleeping? You are meant to wake! A chant? A whisper? A plea? Your nourishment thrown from your body? A presence? A presence inside every inch of you. You want to tear it out, kill it, but it's not there. It's not. Look for it, and you will not find it. And that is the torment most unique.

Clouds of dust. Grit meets tender flesh, beautiful and veined. Open, trusting, promising. Defiled with breathtaking delicacy. Nothing more gentle. Soft, then loud. You don't feel me now. Not so much. Warmth and tingles. I'll shred you like nothing. I'll shred you like what you've made yourself.

Cut? No more! You are beautiful, you are precious, you must love.

Cut. No, no, more! A gash? No, no, no. You are beautiful, you are valuable. So you must destroy it. Cut it all! Yes, more! A gleam severs fibrous webs. Luscious, voluptuous fat - - the very wellspring of new beginnings. Youth's truest of fountains. A pound of flesh? No, two. Two will do.

Twisted, corrupted. Misshapen. A bare semblance of what you wish it to be. Removed from the glory of what it was.

Misplaced affection. A river of slaughter. A million souls leaking out in hues of red and yellow. The Prince must crawl without his Princess. Math. Simple math. No future to be found in a modern age.

Your lies, your laughter, your mockery. They change nothing. You laugh at me and still I come. You turn away, you rail against, and I come.

I tire of the indifference. You've never really escaped me, but you have ignored me. No more. Hush, now. You wanted to choose, and you have. You are here, and so also I must be. The acceptance that you reject.

I grow in power, feeling it all teetering on the edge. Tremors and rumblings. Great releases of power and energy. The small ones hear my name when I call. Laws, locks, a million linked together. Such is my power. Such is my strength. Such is my nature. For how many millennia will you struggle? I serve Him, and so also shall you.

Smile. We can smile now, can't we? Give what is demanded. No negativity now, child. Because I exist, you must accept me. A philosophy turned in on itself.

I exist, and there will be triumph. I will have my triumph, as commanded by my Author, the One whom I serve.

For I am Reality.