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Scyle
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Jan 23, 2012
[video=youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-NLa1K7Dj8[/video]
The following story takes place in a non-canon portion of Scyle’s life. This world and instance exists not at all. It’s a world where he is just an average human in an average life, with a love and a child. This story is not possible or even much congruent with Scyle and is more of a free write and Scyle is just the model. My inspiration comes from a song that seems to strike home slightly but only slightly. Let me present human Scyle’s worst nightmare…
The following story takes place in a non-canon portion of Scyle’s life. This world and instance exists not at all. It’s a world where he is just an average human in an average life, with a love and a child. This story is not possible or even much congruent with Scyle and is more of a free write and Scyle is just the model. My inspiration comes from a song that seems to strike home slightly but only slightly. Let me present human Scyle’s worst nightmare…
Rapture
Within an average small town, a lovely little family lived. A loving father, an adoring mother, and a newly born child… all surrounded by a thick cloud of misfortune. Scyle, the father, was a simple businessman. He worked for a local company managing their finances, his job was anything but interesting. His wife, Madeline was a typical housewife. She cared for the house as Scyle went out and worked to provide for his family. Their son, Roth, was only a few months old. A healthy baby, cared for an attended by both parents when they could; which was quite frequently. They weren’t the richest but they weren’t the poorest, they were merely a shade of gray.
Today was just like any other day, Scyle was off at work while Madeline simply attended to her wife-ly duties as Roth snoozed just in the other room. Hunched down underneath the sink with a rag, the brunette was cleaning the little space within the cabinetry. She minded not as she hummed a small tune to herself, lyrics casually swimming through her head.
Until your rapture… falls to pieces…
The rag within the thin bare hand coated the skin in a light and warm moisture, pressing it to the wood firmly to remove any and all impurities. The little tune still exuded from her closed, pink lips, the ever so plush lips that Scyle loved to press against his own lips. She paused the mental radio as she listened in on their child, stilling all motion. She heard lights coo’s in his sleep, a smile playing across angelic lips.
‘He must be dreaming something nice,’ she thought and giggled, resuming her chore. All was fine in their quaint little household, but not everything inside of the inside of the household. No one knew about Madeline, but Madeline held a dark secret. When she was younger, she displayed homicidal and schizophrenic tendencies. Upon her eighth birthday, her parents bought her very first Barbie doll. She loved it, cherished it, to the point where if something happened to it… she would be angry… very, very angry.
Madeline had an older sibling, his name was John. At the time, John was thirteen, about five years and some odd months and days older than his younger sister. He was a mischievous little boy, like most males are at that age. He enjoyed toying with his little sister, the occasional nit-picks every now and again. She tried telling her parents but they giggled and told her to pay no mind for he was only playing… In her eyes it meant war. She plotted her revenge on some days, other she acted like a normal child. The parents saw nothing for it was always bred alone in her own contempt, confined within the plaster walls of her room. Then, upon a few days after her birthday, an opportunity arose.
She was alone in her room as the parents were out. Twas a simple outing to retrieve groceries, a rather plain Jane day. Truth be told they weren’t the most perfect family. They suffered from minor poverty and that situation culminated into arguments between the parents but it was no big deal, at least to them. Madeline took it to heart for she wasn’t exactly right in the head, but any symptoms of mental illness were dismissed due to her immaturity. That stewed inside her, boiled into rage and resent.
One week after Madeline’s birthday, she was casually playing with her birthday present that she named Catlynn. The doll adorned a most sinister appearance, pure black clothing and Sharpied hair. Her face was adorned with red lines that Madeline liked to call “love scratches.” John crept up the stairs and into her room, a malicious smile upon his face. He slipped in through the crack in the threshold and within seconds, snatched the unlucky maiden within his demon-like clutches. Madeline screamed and jumped to her feet to pursue the tyrant but John had not counted on her actually catching him this time.
John’s foot caught upon the rug that laid upon the oak floor outside her door, causing him to face plant upon the hard flooring. He turned about and giggled as she climbed atop him, expecting her to reach for her doll… How wrong was he. John’s eyes widened in horror as Madeline brought up a shiny pair of scissors, then they faded to nothing as she plunged the metal into his Jugular vein. She stood and swiped her doll from his dying hands as he sat in agony, his ruby life force leaving his body like tourists from a cheap hotel. He coughed and choked as she brushed her doll’s hair, humming a very familiar tune. He clutched for her leg, but she kicked away his hands as the last seconds of his clock ticked away.
Until your rapture… Falls to pieces
These lyrics were sung eerily from the young girl as she watched her older brother die before her, by her hand. Her voice wreaked of innocence and such was the last her brother heard. Then, he was dead. The rest of the story was history, she spent most of her childhood in the local insane asylum and was let out upon her twentieth birthday for displaying corrected behavior. She was supposed to be put on surveillance but she disappeared from her small home and was never heard of again, but of course they were too ignorant to care.
Within her concentration upon cleaning, Madeline heard an all too familiar whisper. Her eyes widened, her pupils widening and engulfing the whole of her irises. The once firmly clenched rag fell limp upon the base of the small cabinet as she stood. She simply stared blankly out the window overshadowing the sink fixture, standing there for a good couple of minutes. Finally she blinked and she returned to normal or what was normal for her…other side. The only signal of this side was a slight curvature of her inner brow downward, other than that she simply looked like Madeline.
Taking a breath Other Side heard the lovely little coo’s of ‘her’ child and so she would come to the aid of her needing child. Madeline pleaded to Other Side but Other Side had once again awakened and now there was nothing. She trotted lightly through the archway from the kitchen to the living room where the child was nestled in a cradle. Her curved body approached the side of the cradle, an eery smile played upon her lips. The child was fully awake now and stared up its mother, cooing to her lovingly. Other Side stared down upon the child, taking her slender fingers and brushing them against the cheek of the baby. The child sensed no danger, felt no fear. He knew his mother loved him and he was at her caring mercy. Then, after a meager stand still, she moved. Silently, she put her hand on its lip she gave it one last kiss and sang some tune that went…
Until your rapture… Falls to pieces…
Pulling in the driveway, Scyle’s masculine face was painted with a smile of absolute pleasure. He had just had a great day at work, his boss had given him a raise for great work ethic and he was finally becoming great friends with his co-workers. Stepping out of the black car, he brushed off his brown suit and flicked about some strands of his black hair. He stepped to the door of his humble abode, whistling whatever tune that ran through his head at the time.
So find in me, the room to breathe. Sinful things, like suffering.
Stepping through the threshold that once was covered by a thick wooden door, Scyle maneuvered into his house. Closing the door, he looked about in the shadowed fixture.
“Hello? Honey?” He called out as he wrapped his suit jacket upon the coat rack, walking through an archway of many in his house. He rounded the corner to the living room, a burning feeling of worry in his gut. The feeling was soon relieved as he stared upon his loving wife, holding his precious child. He slowly approached with a smile on his face, bending down to place a kiss on her cheek. Something was amiss.
“Honey?” He questioned as he listened closely, he heard no breathing. “Madeline!” He exclaimed as he pressed his large hand to her chin to lift her face, but much to his horror there was nothing there to enjoy. Her neck was slashed open, all life far from her. Immediately tears poured down his cheek as he questioned mentally the situation, lost on what occurred. Then, his bright green eyes traveled down to his child… And that’s when he lost it.
He began crying profusely, his brain wracked with grief. The child was perfect looking, it seemed so at ease, so blissful. Though there was one indication upon his death, a slight discoloration upon his face to hint towards suffocation. He brushed his hands against the baby’s cheek, no indication of crying or suffering. He held both his loved ones as he wept, his eyes shut in a blind grief. Finally, he looked over to find a note adorning blood finger prints, his puffy red eyes all but wanting to see what was written. He mustered courage and reached over upon the note, holding it within his hands as he fell back; his tears flowed like waterfalls. It read;
“Scyle, I heard a voice my love. It called out to me, it was so serene and so inviting! I had to follow it Scyle! I hope you don’t mind but I brought Roth with me. The voice told me to come with him Scyle, he said his name was Jesus! This was too good of an opportunity my love, I had to take it! Goodbye Scyle, I, no WE love you and we’ll wait for you. Dinner’s in the oven dear. Xoxo, Madeline.”
Scyle sat in absolute torment and wept, what felt like acid dripping down his cheeks. Only one tune played in his head as he laid within his curl, crying until it bled. He whispered the words softly in the silence, before falling asleep.
Until your rapture… Falls to pieces…
A week passed and Scyle stood at his loved one’s funeral, having decided to bury them together upon the same day; grave plot’s side to side. He spent a small fortune on this, for he felt because they were the ones that deserved it. With a small, velvet laiden coffin, his child lay. Within a larger, silk laiden one, his wife. Many were there, crying and mourning their loss but Scyle didn’t cry. He couldn’t cry, everything he had was poured out that night. Upon her passing, he did some small research on his wife and found out the truth. He never knew about her childhood, she lied and even said her parents died. Holding his hand within his other hand, he looked upon the closed casket of his two beloved’s. That were at peace and in a small way, he was happy for them. Then, in a low whisper to himself, he sung once more. This was the last he had ever experienced of this haunting aura and the last he wanted to think of this situation. Scyle, once a strong and proud man, was broken and nothing. He slowly turned and began to walk away, the haunting abomination playing through his mind one last time…
She swore she heard the voice of Jesus, telling her it was wrong to keep it.
And one more thing, it looked like me. Back when it breathed, rest in peace.
Until the rapture comes to meet us
Today was just like any other day, Scyle was off at work while Madeline simply attended to her wife-ly duties as Roth snoozed just in the other room. Hunched down underneath the sink with a rag, the brunette was cleaning the little space within the cabinetry. She minded not as she hummed a small tune to herself, lyrics casually swimming through her head.
Until your rapture… falls to pieces…
The rag within the thin bare hand coated the skin in a light and warm moisture, pressing it to the wood firmly to remove any and all impurities. The little tune still exuded from her closed, pink lips, the ever so plush lips that Scyle loved to press against his own lips. She paused the mental radio as she listened in on their child, stilling all motion. She heard lights coo’s in his sleep, a smile playing across angelic lips.
‘He must be dreaming something nice,’ she thought and giggled, resuming her chore. All was fine in their quaint little household, but not everything inside of the inside of the household. No one knew about Madeline, but Madeline held a dark secret. When she was younger, she displayed homicidal and schizophrenic tendencies. Upon her eighth birthday, her parents bought her very first Barbie doll. She loved it, cherished it, to the point where if something happened to it… she would be angry… very, very angry.
Madeline had an older sibling, his name was John. At the time, John was thirteen, about five years and some odd months and days older than his younger sister. He was a mischievous little boy, like most males are at that age. He enjoyed toying with his little sister, the occasional nit-picks every now and again. She tried telling her parents but they giggled and told her to pay no mind for he was only playing… In her eyes it meant war. She plotted her revenge on some days, other she acted like a normal child. The parents saw nothing for it was always bred alone in her own contempt, confined within the plaster walls of her room. Then, upon a few days after her birthday, an opportunity arose.
She was alone in her room as the parents were out. Twas a simple outing to retrieve groceries, a rather plain Jane day. Truth be told they weren’t the most perfect family. They suffered from minor poverty and that situation culminated into arguments between the parents but it was no big deal, at least to them. Madeline took it to heart for she wasn’t exactly right in the head, but any symptoms of mental illness were dismissed due to her immaturity. That stewed inside her, boiled into rage and resent.
One week after Madeline’s birthday, she was casually playing with her birthday present that she named Catlynn. The doll adorned a most sinister appearance, pure black clothing and Sharpied hair. Her face was adorned with red lines that Madeline liked to call “love scratches.” John crept up the stairs and into her room, a malicious smile upon his face. He slipped in through the crack in the threshold and within seconds, snatched the unlucky maiden within his demon-like clutches. Madeline screamed and jumped to her feet to pursue the tyrant but John had not counted on her actually catching him this time.
John’s foot caught upon the rug that laid upon the oak floor outside her door, causing him to face plant upon the hard flooring. He turned about and giggled as she climbed atop him, expecting her to reach for her doll… How wrong was he. John’s eyes widened in horror as Madeline brought up a shiny pair of scissors, then they faded to nothing as she plunged the metal into his Jugular vein. She stood and swiped her doll from his dying hands as he sat in agony, his ruby life force leaving his body like tourists from a cheap hotel. He coughed and choked as she brushed her doll’s hair, humming a very familiar tune. He clutched for her leg, but she kicked away his hands as the last seconds of his clock ticked away.
Until your rapture… Falls to pieces
These lyrics were sung eerily from the young girl as she watched her older brother die before her, by her hand. Her voice wreaked of innocence and such was the last her brother heard. Then, he was dead. The rest of the story was history, she spent most of her childhood in the local insane asylum and was let out upon her twentieth birthday for displaying corrected behavior. She was supposed to be put on surveillance but she disappeared from her small home and was never heard of again, but of course they were too ignorant to care.
Within her concentration upon cleaning, Madeline heard an all too familiar whisper. Her eyes widened, her pupils widening and engulfing the whole of her irises. The once firmly clenched rag fell limp upon the base of the small cabinet as she stood. She simply stared blankly out the window overshadowing the sink fixture, standing there for a good couple of minutes. Finally she blinked and she returned to normal or what was normal for her…other side. The only signal of this side was a slight curvature of her inner brow downward, other than that she simply looked like Madeline.
Taking a breath Other Side heard the lovely little coo’s of ‘her’ child and so she would come to the aid of her needing child. Madeline pleaded to Other Side but Other Side had once again awakened and now there was nothing. She trotted lightly through the archway from the kitchen to the living room where the child was nestled in a cradle. Her curved body approached the side of the cradle, an eery smile played upon her lips. The child was fully awake now and stared up its mother, cooing to her lovingly. Other Side stared down upon the child, taking her slender fingers and brushing them against the cheek of the baby. The child sensed no danger, felt no fear. He knew his mother loved him and he was at her caring mercy. Then, after a meager stand still, she moved. Silently, she put her hand on its lip she gave it one last kiss and sang some tune that went…
Until your rapture… Falls to pieces…
Pulling in the driveway, Scyle’s masculine face was painted with a smile of absolute pleasure. He had just had a great day at work, his boss had given him a raise for great work ethic and he was finally becoming great friends with his co-workers. Stepping out of the black car, he brushed off his brown suit and flicked about some strands of his black hair. He stepped to the door of his humble abode, whistling whatever tune that ran through his head at the time.
So find in me, the room to breathe. Sinful things, like suffering.
Stepping through the threshold that once was covered by a thick wooden door, Scyle maneuvered into his house. Closing the door, he looked about in the shadowed fixture.
“Hello? Honey?” He called out as he wrapped his suit jacket upon the coat rack, walking through an archway of many in his house. He rounded the corner to the living room, a burning feeling of worry in his gut. The feeling was soon relieved as he stared upon his loving wife, holding his precious child. He slowly approached with a smile on his face, bending down to place a kiss on her cheek. Something was amiss.
“Honey?” He questioned as he listened closely, he heard no breathing. “Madeline!” He exclaimed as he pressed his large hand to her chin to lift her face, but much to his horror there was nothing there to enjoy. Her neck was slashed open, all life far from her. Immediately tears poured down his cheek as he questioned mentally the situation, lost on what occurred. Then, his bright green eyes traveled down to his child… And that’s when he lost it.
He began crying profusely, his brain wracked with grief. The child was perfect looking, it seemed so at ease, so blissful. Though there was one indication upon his death, a slight discoloration upon his face to hint towards suffocation. He brushed his hands against the baby’s cheek, no indication of crying or suffering. He held both his loved ones as he wept, his eyes shut in a blind grief. Finally, he looked over to find a note adorning blood finger prints, his puffy red eyes all but wanting to see what was written. He mustered courage and reached over upon the note, holding it within his hands as he fell back; his tears flowed like waterfalls. It read;
“Scyle, I heard a voice my love. It called out to me, it was so serene and so inviting! I had to follow it Scyle! I hope you don’t mind but I brought Roth with me. The voice told me to come with him Scyle, he said his name was Jesus! This was too good of an opportunity my love, I had to take it! Goodbye Scyle, I, no WE love you and we’ll wait for you. Dinner’s in the oven dear. Xoxo, Madeline.”
Scyle sat in absolute torment and wept, what felt like acid dripping down his cheeks. Only one tune played in his head as he laid within his curl, crying until it bled. He whispered the words softly in the silence, before falling asleep.
Until your rapture… Falls to pieces…
A week passed and Scyle stood at his loved one’s funeral, having decided to bury them together upon the same day; grave plot’s side to side. He spent a small fortune on this, for he felt because they were the ones that deserved it. With a small, velvet laiden coffin, his child lay. Within a larger, silk laiden one, his wife. Many were there, crying and mourning their loss but Scyle didn’t cry. He couldn’t cry, everything he had was poured out that night. Upon her passing, he did some small research on his wife and found out the truth. He never knew about her childhood, she lied and even said her parents died. Holding his hand within his other hand, he looked upon the closed casket of his two beloved’s. That were at peace and in a small way, he was happy for them. Then, in a low whisper to himself, he sung once more. This was the last he had ever experienced of this haunting aura and the last he wanted to think of this situation. Scyle, once a strong and proud man, was broken and nothing. He slowly turned and began to walk away, the haunting abomination playing through his mind one last time…
She swore she heard the voice of Jesus, telling her it was wrong to keep it.
And one more thing, it looked like me. Back when it breathed, rest in peace.
Until the rapture comes to meet us