By obeliskos :: Monday April 29th, 2013


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YOU PROBABLY WON'T UNDERSTAND MUCH OF THIS STORY, SO GO HERE FOR A MORE SIMPLE VERSION!!!: http://www.sploder.info/comments.php?DiscussionID=15682 --- terminus: ter-mi-nus - n. 1) the end or extremity of anything. --- His life was a solitary one. His thoughts and feelings secluded. His appearance and being exiled from society; from civilization. He only knew what was inside. He knew not of the outside. He lived in secrecy, he felt nothing but agony.. Agony and pain. He could not walk, he could not talk. He was dysfunctional and would prefer his fate over this. - Let's start from the beginning. It was a common ritual to bring newborn offspring to the elder, who would explain the fate of the child. Even nobility would convey their newborn to the impecunious, yet well respected, patriarch to heed his foresight of their posterity. One day, a child was brought to the elder. In most cases, the prediction would be the same; "Child will live long, bring great fortune to family," the elder would say. But this child was different. As the elder probed the child's conscience, he saw a terrible fate. He reluctantly looked up to the anxious parents' eyes. "Your son," he began, "will die at an early age." Shocked, the parents exchanged stares before the elder slowly handed their son back to them. The wistful parents returned to their small hut, unaware of what to do next. They didn't want their firstborn to die and they would go to extreme measures to keep their child alive. And so, the parents locked up their child. They refused to send him to school, so they taught him themselves. They taught him basic motor skills and attempted to teach him how to speak, but failed. After that, the parents were discouraged and didn't continue the lessons. So the child lived life not knowing how to speak, nor did he know math, or science, or history. In fact, he had hardly grasped the idea of walking. And being in a closed space, he began to lose the ability to do that, too. He had no one to talk to - not that it mattered. He couldn't talk anyway. And so, he lived his whole life in exile from the life outside of his abode. He didn't know how to write, he didn't know how to speak... so he just.. kept to himself. The painful thoughts cluttered his brain. He couldn't stand being held captive in his own house anymore, and one day.. he snapped. The screams of anguish clouding his senses, he didn't know any better but to break out. He tried vigorously to escape what felt like a tight jail cell, but to no avail. But he wouldn't stand for it anymore. So what did he do? Did he kill himself? Did he kill his parents? Or maybe he got over it? All wrong. In the corner of his eye, he saw a lone piece of wood. Most likely enough to break through the weak glass windows. For once, he was glad his parents were penniless, because they couldn't afford strong windows. So, he picked up the blunt object and swung it at the window. Repeatedly, he would attempt to break the windows. Things would smash, things would crash, but the window was left only with a little crack. He was too weak to break through. But he wasn't ready to give up. He picked up the board once again and lunged at the window. The window shattered and glass punctured his bony forearms; but he was finally free. Ecstatic, he jumped out, feeling as if he was ready to fly. He thought he spent years of his life in Hell, enclosed in that room. Unfortunately for him, things are only to get worse from here on out. His fate is to die, and so it shall be. And his name was Terminus.


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