Day 8 ... The Cat Ate My Manuscript ...

Hey faithfuls ... Day 8 and to be honest the cat didn't eat my manuscript at all because I haven't written it yet but I'm getting closer every day.

Day 8 ~ NaNoWriMo ~ and I'm sitting at a frightening plus 2,000 words. I know, I know everyone else is WAY past that but I'm happy to have broken through the 200 word barrier that seemed to keep me captive for the past six days. Today I choked up a MASSIVE 1,415 words for a grand total of (don't laugh) 2,526 words!

Hey, that's pretty good for me. 

Today's inspiration came from none-other than Bram Stoker himself.

Here's an excerpt. Remember it's NaNo so it's rough! Very very rough! Oh, and pretty much stream-of-consciousness ...

It’s Bram Stoker’s birthday today. 

It’s the 8th of November. 

Perhaps I could write something as a tribute to Bram. But how could anyone even propose that they could write something in his memory? 

He created such an everlasting character - Dracula. Muwahaha!

You know Bram would be amazed to think that his Dracula became such legend. His character goes on and on in different forms day after day, year after year. The legend surpasses itself. How incredible to create such a character that insights such fear and curiosity all over the world. 

Did Bram actually meet Dracula? 

Was Dracula just a character or did Bram have an encounter that gave him the need to write about such a, let’s say, loathsome character that now has been made into something any human would want to become. And now joined with werewolves and such to the point that we all want to live forever sucking each others blood and killing others in order to live forever? What a life! Ugh! 

As one gets older one realizes that all those thoughts about wanting to live forever were really just stupidity for it's a futile existence to want to live forever because living forever could only ultimately bring pain and suffering. Sure if we could stay healthy and well it might be more pleasant but the reality is the aches and the pains of daily existence would be so morbid and painful that one would seek for and wish for death. 

What if we could remain totally healthy? 

Would be then be desirous of a long existence an eternity as it were? 

Then would we be happy and joyful as our long long life. Or would this cause an eventual eternal boredom? What would be the sense of living forever? What could we learn? For sure we could learn a lot and we could be seen by others are being a plethora of information. We could be anything or do any occupation. We could have the career we always wanted as we would have the eternity to accomplish it but then what? All our friends and loved pets would die and pass away and we would be left time and time again alone and lonely.

Then we must seek out others to join us in our eternity and what if we chose the wrong person, the wrong companion? 

There is no separation he from thee. 

No, no separation whatsoever and we would be forced to live together preferably in harmony but realistically in drudgery. Oh pity pitiful woo-is-me. This existence would become excrutiatingly painful. Life that disembodied arm with blood gushing from its extremities hitting you in the face as you sleep, waking you from insanity over and over. 

To live this life of continual groundhog day. 

It could not be fun. 

It would not be fun. 

Kill me now! 

Put me out of my misery. 

Only it’s not that easy for you as an eternal being cannot die. You can only live in a zombie-like state. 

Is this what humanity had hoped for? 

Is this what humanity really wants?

This is sickening. The thoughts are sickening me. The ... (nano babble: edited out)

Sticks inside me like a needle inserted up the full length of my arm. A prick, then pain, then an uncomfortable painful jab as the needle grows inside my arm and pierces further and further into my extremities. This needle is somehow flexible. It bends and moves down the length of my spine. Torturous pressing its way down the back of my leg. I watch as the skin bubbles. I can see the shape of the needle. For one moment the needle pokes its way out my little toe and as though looking at me it realizes its vulnerability and turns back inside my toe and makes a bee-line back up my body with such force I scream in agony. 

The needle realizes what it has to do. 

It has to end this suffering. 

Not its suffering but mine. Then and only then can it conquer and win. As fast as a thought it enters my brain. My body convulses, quivers and shakes. Then I go limp. 

I can see. I can hear but I can no longer feel anything. I am simply observing.

Then my thoughts return to eternity. 

Is this eternity? 

Is this what living forever would really mean?

Or could it be blissful? 

Could it be enjoyable? 

Could I do great works? 

Is there a God? 

Would he be proud of me if I were to live forever doing great works? 

Helping the poor, healing the sick, letting the blind see.

Or would he see my eternal existence as an abomination? 

Who would judge me? 

Surely my fellow man would judge this as pure evil and God himself would see me as a curse on his world. But if I was doing great works, helping the sick, the poor, the injured, making a real difference in a very real way would this not cause God and man to accept me and love me and see me as a Super human?

Alas, I doubt this would be the case. 

There would be those who would want to destroy me and they would see the needle as an opportunity to put to rest this, what would they call it? Tortured soul? Oh yes, the tortured soul, un-savable, lost, perhaps even evil-incarnate, a torturous being, a devil? Pure evil. 

It would not matter my great works. It would be not seen as greatness but great evil and the masses would work out a way to destroy me and take my soul and release it.

However they decide to destroy me, it is all in good faith you see. 
They want to help release my poor tortured soul into the greatness of their God who will take me into his loving arms and protect me for eternity in heaven. The blissful existence of heaven. Where many want to, and aim to go after this world. Is this existence not just one and the same?

So who will come along and free those people from their long, eternal existence? Will they not become bored and frustrated also?
How does this all work?

And so ended my stream of consciousness writing for that NaNo hour. 

Why is it that sometimes you can write and other times it’s such a drain?

And why is it that all my writing somehow ends up dark and dangerous? 

Why don’t I write about nice little pixies or fairies or furry animals that like to frolic and play? No, not this dark little black duck. No, I have to write characters in that can kill off or especially torture those around them.

Doesn’t seem fair really... end of NaNo for today.

Zak - bearing his soul

photo credit: Ben Templesmith via photopin cc

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