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About time that the sagacious had a stab.
*************
Dante’s Inferno had become a metaphysical reality.
Searing flame enveloped the building, as fiery tendrils crept inexorably towards the research laboratory atop the withering behemoth of steel, fabric and glass. Material peeled away from the structure like leprosy. Bone followed skin as though it too was abandoning the body to seek respite elsewhere. The support structures that gave way had been weakened immeasurably by the purge, no longer able to bear their Atlas burden.
The internal organs of Memtex Industries could not escape, and perished, consumed by the ravenous conflagration that gluttonously fed upon them. The fire was fuelled in its intensity by the ruptured artery of chemicals, which bled deep within the host as oxygen combusted greedily from the cold night air. A waxing Moon, soon to expose the world to its shimmering, spherical voluptuousness, paled from view as the thick, acrid smoke tried unrepentantly to choke it in the heavens.
In truth the Moon was glad to have its vision obscured, and its jealousy of man and of the Sun clouded its thoughts further; I am but a mere reflection, a lowly imitation, even at the zenith of my power I am reliant on Him to shine. I exist only to reflect His glory. Even lowly man can create fire and light, it opined.
'Man who feared me for so long, fearing that my eclipse was a portent of evil; because it blocked their precious golden vision of Him. Man who even craved me for a time, only to spurn me once their Apollo had delivered them to the truth. Worship of the old Gods and ideologies has been abandoned, replaced by a new religion, one whose deity is not omnipotent but who is undeniably potent. Now their faith is in science as they worship their biological creator DNA'.
Beneath the Moon’s contempt, one of the human messiahs, Dr Johannes Reaper, wept tears of wallowed pity which slithered down his scorched cheeks, forming cold rivulets that pooled beneath his sunken chin. He watched as the anathema ate his life’s work. It was a simple but appropriate fact; the realisation that the obliteration of his research and The Project was a direct result of its success. This was an abomination that he could not cope with, let alone take responsibility for. Dr Reaper’s mind went supernova seconds before his total and utter physical collapse.
*************
Dante’s Inferno had become a metaphysical reality.
Searing flame enveloped the building, as fiery tendrils crept inexorably towards the research laboratory atop the withering behemoth of steel, fabric and glass. Material peeled away from the structure like leprosy. Bone followed skin as though it too was abandoning the body to seek respite elsewhere. The support structures that gave way had been weakened immeasurably by the purge, no longer able to bear their Atlas burden.
The internal organs of Memtex Industries could not escape, and perished, consumed by the ravenous conflagration that gluttonously fed upon them. The fire was fuelled in its intensity by the ruptured artery of chemicals, which bled deep within the host as oxygen combusted greedily from the cold night air. A waxing Moon, soon to expose the world to its shimmering, spherical voluptuousness, paled from view as the thick, acrid smoke tried unrepentantly to choke it in the heavens.
In truth the Moon was glad to have its vision obscured, and its jealousy of man and of the Sun clouded its thoughts further; I am but a mere reflection, a lowly imitation, even at the zenith of my power I am reliant on Him to shine. I exist only to reflect His glory. Even lowly man can create fire and light, it opined.
'Man who feared me for so long, fearing that my eclipse was a portent of evil; because it blocked their precious golden vision of Him. Man who even craved me for a time, only to spurn me once their Apollo had delivered them to the truth. Worship of the old Gods and ideologies has been abandoned, replaced by a new religion, one whose deity is not omnipotent but who is undeniably potent. Now their faith is in science as they worship their biological creator DNA'.
Beneath the Moon’s contempt, one of the human messiahs, Dr Johannes Reaper, wept tears of wallowed pity which slithered down his scorched cheeks, forming cold rivulets that pooled beneath his sunken chin. He watched as the anathema ate his life’s work. It was a simple but appropriate fact; the realisation that the obliteration of his research and The Project was a direct result of its success. This was an abomination that he could not cope with, let alone take responsibility for. Dr Reaper’s mind went supernova seconds before his total and utter physical collapse.
The rest of the story will be more conventional; I was looking to make the opening feel organic, if that makes sense. Perhaps it is too descriptive, though I am confident that it does establish the basic premise of the story.
I hope.
Thanks guys and gals for all the comments so far, I'm going to complete the story and post it (in it's entirety) soon.
I hope.
Thanks guys and gals for all the comments so far, I'm going to complete the story and post it (in it's entirety) soon.
I needed to read that through twice to get a grasp on it. Very rich and bewitching description. Personally I prefer a more direct style, but there's no doubt that it's excellently put together. The best thing I liked about it was the way you described what was happening from an unusual point-of-view.
could you add this to it somewhere ? ;D
But I wasn't getting out, the music became more and more violent, all the shadows in the room stood out and began to crawl, the television light began to dim, and the music became evil, chanting voices, I didn't know what they were saying but I knew they were summoning Satan. The faces on the TV merged together and turned a brilliant color red, the red became an ominous face, and that face grew ram horns and fiery yellow eyes, and breathed blasphemous fire right into my soul. Every shadow in the room came together and locked around me in a cage, I was terrified, I closed my eyes but the face was still in my head, I whispered the name of Jesus and I began to cry.
But I wasn't getting out, the music became more and more violent, all the shadows in the room stood out and began to crawl, the television light began to dim, and the music became evil, chanting voices, I didn't know what they were saying but I knew they were summoning Satan. The faces on the TV merged together and turned a brilliant color red, the red became an ominous face, and that face grew ram horns and fiery yellow eyes, and breathed blasphemous fire right into my soul. Every shadow in the room came together and locked around me in a cage, I was terrified, I closed my eyes but the face was still in my head, I whispered the name of Jesus and I began to cry.
Wow, thats very rich descriptive language you have used. The piece is very verbose, you say a lot, but little happens. In truth I rarly like the kind of gothic tone I feel this has, its all a little overly dramatic for me, I have simple tastes, but actually I did enjoy this. You have the set the scene for an interesting story, I hope you write more, and I will watch out for it with interest.
Ana thats quite a grasp on the language you have.
Ana thats quite a grasp on the language you have.
About time that the sagacious had a stab.
*************
Dante’s Inferno had become a metaphysical reality.
Searing flame enveloped the building, as fiery tendrils crept inexorably towards the research laboratory atop the withering behemoth of steel, fabric and glass. Material peeled away from the structure like leprosy. Bone followed skin as though it too was abandoning the body to seek respite elsewhere. The support structures that gave way had been weakened immeasurably by the purge, no longer able to bear their Atlas burden.
The internal organs of Memtex Industries could not escape, and perished, consumed by the ravenous conflagration that gluttonously fed upon them. The fire was fuelled in its intensity by the ruptured artery of chemicals, which bled deep within the host as oxygen combusted greedily from the cold night air. A waxing Moon, soon to expose the world to its shimmering, spherical voluptuousness, paled from view as the thick, acrid smoke tried unrepentantly to choke it in the heavens.
In truth the Moon was glad to have its vision obscured, and its jealousy of man and of the Sun clouded its thoughts further; I am but a mere reflection, a lowly imitation, even at the zenith of my power I am reliant on Him to shine. I exist only to reflect His glory. Even lowly man can create fire and light, it opined.
'Man who feared me for so long, fearing that my eclipse was a portent of evil; because it blocked their precious golden vision of Him. Man who even craved me for a time, only to spurn me once their Apollo had delivered them to the truth. Worship of the old Gods and ideologies has been abandoned, replaced by a new religion, one whose deity is not omnipotent but who is undeniably potent. Now their faith is in science as they worship their biological creator DNA'.
Beneath the Moon’s contempt, one of the human messiahs, Dr Johannes Reaper, wept tears of wallowed pity which slithered down his scorched cheeks, forming cold rivulets that pooled beneath his sunken chin. He watched as the anathema ate his life’s work. It was a simple but appropriate fact; the realisation that the obliteration of his research and The Project was a direct result of its success. This was an abomination that he could not cope with, let alone take responsibility for. Dr Reaper’s mind went supernova seconds before his total and utter physical collapse.
*************
Dante’s Inferno had become a metaphysical reality.
Searing flame enveloped the building, as fiery tendrils crept inexorably towards the research laboratory atop the withering behemoth of steel, fabric and glass. Material peeled away from the structure like leprosy. Bone followed skin as though it too was abandoning the body to seek respite elsewhere. The support structures that gave way had been weakened immeasurably by the purge, no longer able to bear their Atlas burden.
The internal organs of Memtex Industries could not escape, and perished, consumed by the ravenous conflagration that gluttonously fed upon them. The fire was fuelled in its intensity by the ruptured artery of chemicals, which bled deep within the host as oxygen combusted greedily from the cold night air. A waxing Moon, soon to expose the world to its shimmering, spherical voluptuousness, paled from view as the thick, acrid smoke tried unrepentantly to choke it in the heavens.
In truth the Moon was glad to have its vision obscured, and its jealousy of man and of the Sun clouded its thoughts further; I am but a mere reflection, a lowly imitation, even at the zenith of my power I am reliant on Him to shine. I exist only to reflect His glory. Even lowly man can create fire and light, it opined.
'Man who feared me for so long, fearing that my eclipse was a portent of evil; because it blocked their precious golden vision of Him. Man who even craved me for a time, only to spurn me once their Apollo had delivered them to the truth. Worship of the old Gods and ideologies has been abandoned, replaced by a new religion, one whose deity is not omnipotent but who is undeniably potent. Now their faith is in science as they worship their biological creator DNA'.
Beneath the Moon’s contempt, one of the human messiahs, Dr Johannes Reaper, wept tears of wallowed pity which slithered down his scorched cheeks, forming cold rivulets that pooled beneath his sunken chin. He watched as the anathema ate his life’s work. It was a simple but appropriate fact; the realisation that the obliteration of his research and The Project was a direct result of its success. This was an abomination that he could not cope with, let alone take responsibility for. Dr Reaper’s mind went supernova seconds before his total and utter physical collapse.