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Дневники: casper_MALK_ -> Мемчики и Деградация

30 апреля 2010

11:00   Я кончил просто

In the shadows, the demons gather. Do you hear the buzzing of flies? The whispering of parchment pages turning? The stink of blood drawn in great whorls and slashes on the wall? Will you make a deal with the demon? Open the book and find out. You’ve come a long way. You were never a young people. Your ancestors stretch back into the mists, to other times of which I’m not permitted to speak. They were stupid. They lacked ambition. Will. There was no common ground between us. When you were born, I thought you’d be like the rest, fucking shamelessly under the rain, confining your violence to innocent dominance gestures, rough and tumble. When you picked up a rock, I smiled. When I saw her blood on it, I cheered. Finally, someone was speaking my language. There were awkward introductions. You’d never seen me before, though I was always there, waiting until your senses developed. When they drove you off, I followed. When you came back with fire (no need to thank us for that) and burned them, I praised you while they screamed and cursed. I made a few suggestions, showed you how to do a better job next time. I know you felt guilty sometimes, but I helped you get over it. We collaborated on a few techniques to set your will on the right path. First of all, you learned how to set yourself apart from weak people. Honestly, I made only a small suggestion, but you really ran with it. You invented words to keep them low. Barbarian. Slave. Infidel. Slut. You made new tools to give those words some bite. Quite a thing to talk with a spear or cluster bomb, isn’t it? The weak will always be your burden. I sympathize. They’ve got numbers on their side, but I’m trying to get them to come around to your way of thinking. Sometimes they get the best of you, make you think you’re in the wrong. Sometimes you even blame me for everything that’s happened. Not so. Think of it this way. It’s like we’ve walked along a beach together and when you look back you see two sets of footprints in some places, but only one set at others—when you were at your worst. You ask, “Did you carry me through that and make me do those awful things?” No, you miserable fucking coward. You carried me. You couldn’t take another step without bringing me along, so you could say, “The Devil made me do it.” All I did was talk. It’s okay. I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you.

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