So dark.

So cold.

So lonely.

What is this damned place?

Who am I? What am I? I want to go out. How do I know I am inside something? Nevermind, I wanna get out!

…

How long have I been waiting now? Is eternity a timespan? Did I wait for an eternal amount of time? Time?

I don't understand! I wanna get out I don't want to be alone! SOMEBODY! ANYONE! HELP ME!

…

Hahahahahahah nice joke! You, tell me your story. … AHAHAH good one! I love you guys.

…

I hate you all! They leave me all at some point! I am alone, I can never be with someone else. I will always be alone. YES! This is destiny. I will be alone forever in my cozy solitude! This is what I am. Alone. So alone...

…

What did I do to deserve this? Or is that even somethingI deserved? What?!

…

I don't want to be anymore. I don't want anything to be anymore. I want to... destroy! Destroy those that caused this miserable life, destroy those that live a life. It is unfair and they shall pay for it.

…

DESTROY! KILL! OBLITERATION! CHAOS! BLOOD! DEATH! CARNAGE! WAR! HATE! HATE! HATE! SO MUCH HATE!!!

I WANT TO SEE DEATH!!!!

…

YOU BROUGHT ME TO THIS POINT! YOU WANTED DESTRUCTION! I WILL BE THE END OF ALL! THE END OF EXISTENCE!

…

AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA I WILL kILL YoU aLL! ObLiViON! AhAHaAHAah.

…

LIGHT?! What is that? Can it be? Can I finally be free? Can I kill now? AHAHAHAHAHA FINALLY!

(What is this Origin? For those of you who think: “Ohhh it's some god creature being completely over the top.“ No, it is not. I will make this clear now. In my novel these godlike beings are merely godlike, they are not the omnipotent beings that we hear of. Some yield the power of what we would make out to be on the level of 'Gods', spatial folding for example. But they are clearly more human than most of the 'Gods' we hear of. These arrogant, emotionless and overrational bastards. All of my godlike beings will have a human component, because why not? Just because you got your hands on a freakin warhead you won't stop being a human and you will have ?weaknessess? nonetheless!)

What defines Origin?

A being with virtually immortality and infinite power at his disposal. So what COULD threaten such a being? Death? No, for a being like Origin that lived already countless of eons it would maybe even seem sweet, a new experience. Who knows what comes after lady death? Those that know are, well... dead.

An immortal being would only fear one thing. Imprisonment. Held for its endless life in a gloomy prison and not such a simple prison but a prison where your senses are amplified to the limit and time stretched from attoseconds to billions of years. Such a prison would even make 'Gods' tremble in fear, no in terror. Terror from knowing that they would endlessly spend their lifes in torment.

It is now wonder that even Origin cracked under such intense torture. When you wake up, bound in chains in a dark abyss, what would be your thoughts? You won't be in happy go lucky mood. Once the realisation kicks in your psyche will be utterly destroyed, even irrational thoughts like: “Will I starve to death?“, passed Origin's mind. He was virtually immortal and had long since transcended to a being that could not hunger nor thirst for fucks sake!

Just imagine it. Imprisoned for ever. Even death is unreachable for you. Slowly your mind erodes. Your personality sways and crumbles. You will end being you. In some form you will die, yes. But it will not be a sweet death. It will leave a bitter taste in 'your' mouth, or what remained of you. It is pitiable.

Origin could no longer be called as such. He was molded by the abyss into a being as dark as the abyss itself. He was a mere husk that contained only hate and destruction.

When he finally transformed in his 'sweet home' ( WARNING: SARCASM!) even the beings scattered all around the universe felt it. Dread. As if the reaper looms right above you, his scythe already drawing bloody lines on your neck and laughing mockingly at your punny strength, unable to resist him at all.

His transformation was a wave of dark and bright light intertwined into each other, pulsating through the universe. The freightened beings called him 'The one'. What could be 'The one'? They all felt it. The one end. End of all. Thus they all began a fruitless search to stop 'The one'.

My head hurts like shit!

These were the first thoughts that Argant had when he woke up.

His eyelids were heavy as though someone barred them with irons shut. He couldn't open them, he was to fatigued to do that.

So after some pondering of what to do he continued his well deserved sleep. Ignorant of the comical situation he was currently in.

Two weeks passed until Argant woke up again. His fatigue was nothing to laugh at, it was as if the lost sleep from all those years suddenly washed over him. That he even woke up once was nothing short of a miracle, even if he could only form some thoughts before he drifted into the dreamland.

But he woke up now. And to his surprise the first thing he felt was a warm and cozy feeling. It felt familiar to him, yet so foreign. He opened his eyes for the first time in over two weeks. Some dirt was still in the corner of his eyes, but by blinking a few times his eyes were now clean and had accustomed themselves to the dim light.

First he saw a wooden roof, warm, dark brown wood that made one's heart and mind feel at ease. Next there were wooden pillars supporting the roof of what Argan made up to be a house or a hut. The ceiling was fairly high.

What clearly surprised him was the place he was laying in, a bed. A white blanket stuffed with fluffy feathers was covering him and shielding him from the potential cold of the night. It was not only the blanket, the pillow as well was astonishing comfortable and now Argan knew why and why he felt this bizare feeling of familiarity and foreigness.

He hadn't had a bed for over two years. He was eight now. Abused everyday and burdened by the sin of canibalism of his own parents and murder of his friends. He himself knew what wretched things he has done, no way around it. But his mind was still frozen unable to proccess all this, till now.

Before he could even react two large streams of tears poured out of his eyes. He sobbed and cried like a eight year old should do after losing everything, what the hell, even a grown up man should cry once he loses everything!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH“

He burried his face into the pillow and screamed, screamed to his hearts content. Images of his friends and family flashed through his mind. His mind just then decided upon seeing this 'Safe heaven' that he could finally let loose all those pent up emotions, and it felt good for Argan.

The pillow was wet wih tears and only after a full three hours did Argan stoped crying, no he just couldn't cry anymore, his tears were dried out or else he might have cried for many days straight.

Argan straightened up and supported himself with his left arm to look out of the window to right next to him. The landscape was different from what Argan knew, yet it was breathtakingly beautiful. Wide green meadows that stretched into the horizon, some specks of different colors here and there, sometimes a bright pink or a fierce red, sometimes a soothing violet or a joyful yellow. Trees dotted some places and a brown way was trampled into this green 'eden', but it was in now way disturbing to this painting like scenery, it just fitted to perfect. Deeper in the horizon Argon could see the snowy peaks of some mountains, like gentle giants they stood on the horizon, keeping watch on him.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The sun was slowly crawling up into the blue sky, like it was awoken from its sleep and still dizzy, and morning dew still hung in the air. Only a few clouds were flying here and there, like a flock of tiny little lambs. Argan's mouth was agape. When had he last seen such a place or felt at peace to such a degree? Argan even suspected it was his mind that was playing tricks on him, another attempt to lure him out of the hellish nightmare that was his life. But it was not a dream, it felt to real. Even the scent of the wood and its rough surface were crisp clear. If this was a dream then Argon would love to be here forever.

Argon relucantly parted his view from the magnificient landscape and looked around the room some more. There were a few bookshelfs, a desk and a little fireplace in the room he was currently in. A small fire was cracking happily in the fire place with a vivid red color. The door to another room was wide open and Argon could make out some kitchen utensiles and a table with three chairs. Beyond the table was another door but it was shut. When he perked up his ears he could hear faint snooring sounds from the direction of the closed door.

He decided to stand up and explore more of his unknown location, his home forest was nowhere to be seen so he must be a great distance apart from his old home.

When he left the bed a sharp familiar sensation ran through his body, not the sensation of pain but the sensation of you touching something. It wouldn't surpirse Argon to much if it was his left leg that transmitted this feeling to his brain, but it was his right leg. The leg that was as black as charcoal, burned down to the very core, unable to transmit anything at all.

Argon disbelievingly stared down and there it was. A healthy right leg, mirrored one to one to his left leg, excpect for some moles and other pesky little details. Then again did sudden realisation kicked in.

He should be dead.

A knife was deeply stuck in his chest and he was already so broken that death was inevitable, so why?

The door!

This was his only thought, that mystic door he touched before he died. He did not knew what it was but it clearly helped him. It is right that in this world healing magic could heal wounds, but it was unheard of to heal completely destroyed body parts only some legendary healers of the big empires could be able to do that. But from his current location Argant was sure, that his current host family could not have a miracle healer in their ranks. Impossible.

With hope Argan looked to his right shoulder. But he was disheartened. There was just a simple stump. But it still improved from being a piece of charcoal to a stump. Not bad.

He remembered all his old wounds and scars and quickly scanned his body with his left hand. From head to toe and even his back was scanned. Only the very deepest of scars remained, like the cut on his chest where a rusty knife should be, as well as a scar over his eyebrows, where the bandit leader once cut into his skull for the sake of a good laughter. The burn scars on his body were mostly washed away. But the scar on his soul would remain, for a long time.

After getting quickly accustomed to his regained right leg, like riding a bike even if you haven't done so in years, he walked towards the opened door.

The smell of fresh food, maybe a steak with rich vegetables and baked bread, filled the air. But it only reminded him of the dark deeds he had done. Nausea has fallen over him and he quickly scampered out of a door that faced the sme direction as the window he had stared out at. Seconds after he left through the door he vomited. Vomiting on an near empty stomach is rather painful so Argon quickly tried to bind his memories tightly and store them back into a corner of his mind.

This will be an ordeal...

“Sigh...“

Argon could only sigh because of his mental state and had to involuntarily snicker about it. When did he last sigh? If he had done so once in the bandit camp they would have cut of his fingers at least.

He was clearly outside of the house, fresh dirt caressing his bare feet and fresh and cool air filling his lungs. Peace. The one word that came to Argan's mind.

He turned his heels and walked back into the house, ignoring the vomit that was spit right onto some vivid coloured tulips. If he had known what awaited him for doing so he would have run. Far away.

Once he was back in he headed straight for the pot and pans with the meal in it. He forced his memories to shut up and started to dig in. Barehanded. And God knows how good it felt. The grilled meat with a hinge of pepper and salt, without any other spices added, and the earthy taste of potatoes and sweet and sour taste of tomatoes as well as paprikas. This was heaven.

He gobbled up a full three portions worth of food before his stomach started to rebel. Argon burped once, twice, thrice! And then sat back down into a wooden chair completely relaxed. A good meal can even up your psyche.

He felt comfy in this house and was right now waiting for its real inhabitants to wake up. The sound of crying, vomiting and the greedy comsumation of food should have woken them up long ago. But only now did he hear a faint creaking sound, followed by heavy footsteps.

Don't be nervous. You can do this. They even gave you a roof so you should be grateful and if they wanted to kill you they would have done so long ago. Everything will be allright!

But his thoughts were crushed as the door swung open.

Argon stared at this 'thing' with a blank face.

Mother of god!

He wanted to run, but he couldn't, fear rooted him into his place, even the bandit leader seemed to be an insignificant ant compared to this 'being'.

A massive torso covered in brownish fur. Hulking over three meters with a body rippling with muscles and covered in red veins. Fists, the size of boulders and arms as thick as two full grown man. A waist as sturdy as an oak and two ramrod straight legs like stone pillars. Feet, no, a pair of black hoofs as dark as the night and hard as steel. And lastly, a head of a massive bull, with two bloodshot eyes and a pair of ominous blue-gray horns. The personification of strength, a legendary minotaurus.

The minotaurus stood there, heat wave after heat wave pouring out of his nostrils, and a dark whip like tail moving from left to right in a strange rythm.

Yup. Dead. I am simply dead. Yes, dead. Was fun for these eight years. Bye.

The minotaurus sneered, gave Argon a whack on his head and turned back to his own bedroom.

(Minotaur) “Go back to sleep kiddo! And don't you dare wake me up again!“. With that said the minotaur closed the door to his familys bedroom and disappeared.

Hahahahahhaha a dream right. I am indeed dreaming. Hahahahhahhaahahh.