End of Term, and the Return.

Getting off the bus, I stand around for a minute, deciding what to do. I don't want to go home just yet; it's only 6.30.

Crossing the road, I decide to wander the streets, and go where inspiration takes me. Heading off, I turn away from the main road and down a quiet, dark street. Lyrics course through my head: "I guess they would say we could set the world ablaze".

I settle into a steady pace, the pounding of my feet on the ground mesmerising. As my consciousness retreats, the steady rise and fall of the hills of West Auckland become a blur.

Eventually, I find myself surrounded by light. Rising from my ponderings, I look around, gather my wits, and realise where I am. It's the local mall. My phone tells me it's around 8pm. I don't use a watch anymore; all they are to me is a constant reminder of time wasted.

My stomach rumbles. I realise I haven't eaten since yesterday. Foolishly, I had left the house with no money. Regretting that decision, I make my way to the nearest supermarket. When I arrive, I walk straight past the entrance, choosing instead to sneak around the back. Supermarkets don't like people going through their rubbish. Which is bizarre; anything there has been thrown out, which is surely a viable argument against any potential lawsuit. It's almost as if they have something to hide.

I manage to get behind the supermarket without being noticed, and I arrive just as some teen working for peanuts dumps the latest load of wasted food. How very clichè, I think to myself.

Rushing to the dumpster, I throw open the lid and start rummaging. I give myself a minute before whoever's supposed to be watching the security cameras sees me.

Finishing up, I slam the lid shut and rush back to the relative safety of the shadows. With my roasted peanuts and bread, of course. Pleased, I chow down on a cheese bun, and continue my journey to nowhere.

I next arise from my deep thought when I run out of food. This time, it takes me longer to realise where I am. I'm at a golf course, apparently. Giving up on trying to find anything else, I sit under some treesm and light up a Crosaire herbal cigarrete. I've been off the harsh stuff for a while now. It's camomile and peppermint. Relaxing.

I sit there, under the trees and stars, in the cool wind, looking over the lights of the city for a good few hours. I like this spot; it's calming.

Then, I notice a figure approaching from across the course. I assume it's a worker here, probably coming to tell me to go away. Why would anyone be here this late? I wonder.

As the figure draws closer, it gradually becomes more familiar. How unusual. Eventually, I recognise him. A feeling of dread falls over me.

Apparently my break is over.

"Hello, my good sir. I'm back."

"I would say it's good to see you, but I don't want to lie, Sialon."

Sialon grins, as menacing and mysteriously paternal as ever.

Suicidal Tendencies - Failed Exemplar to... whatever you want to call it.

She took a deep breath, tried to relax. Slowly putting the pen down, finalising her message to the world, she glanced at the mirror on the cabinet. How she despised what she saw. Her long, stringy, pitch black hair fell over her face. Brushing it aside with her soft, olive-coloured hands, she took another breath.
As she thought back on her life, her mistakes, her few successes, the many people who hated her, none so much as she hated herself, a tear fell from her piercing dark eyes and landed on the paper.
Her thoughts rushed around inside her head, the confusion and turmoil endless. Pain, agony, all self inflicted. Depression, resentment, incurable. There was no one for her to live for.
She rested on the floor, letting the tears flow freely from her bloodshot eyes. Although she contemplated her next move, she knew she only had one choice. All other options were exhausted. The answer to her problems, her questions, the cure to her disease, it sat a few inches away from her hand. She pondered it for a second; she is worthless. Her life is a wreck, crashing around her soundlessly. There was no other way out.
All doubts cleared, she lifted her cure.
Whispering to herself, always to herself, she pulls the trigger.
"It's the only way out."

A drop of blood flies, soaring through the room, empty of life.
It lands on a piece of paper, and mingles with fresh tears, an eternal reminder of a life lost.
It lands under a single word, as if emphasising it.
Sialon.

Of Plans and Playthings

Ahh, I do love it when a plan comes together.
As I may have mentioned, I gave Ashm a break. So, I took the time to finish a few things off.
The main one, beginning the downfall of a major country. Americans are so easy to manipulate. When the FBI find him, he will have no memory of the event. Those fools will probably kill him anyway. This alone, will keep me satisfied.
Additionally, I have been working closer to this one. In order to make sure he stays alive. To prolong his suffering. I have sent one to join me. Whilst leaving meaningless clues behind, in order to create beautiful confusion. I wish you luck in finding a link between a crashed car and empty shoes.
The other, simply a disappearance. A creation of loss, despair, whilst leaving some false hope to add texture. And, to keep their hunt going, a brief, but useless, cellphone signal.
Enjoy that, puppets.
Now, my favoured plaything, this visit shall be brief.
I shall return, very soon.
~Sialon

Of Stubbornness

You stubborn creatures. His reluctance to let go is causing him more harm than letting go would. But, oh, the delight. There's nothing like the human skill of causing yourself intense pain to feed off.
This one is providing too much fun for suicide. He has so much more pain to cause, to himself and the ones he cares about.
So much sorrow unleashed.
But I won't have to wait much longer.
Ashm's about to break.
~Sialon

Of Volcanic Eruptions and Distractions

Oh, how I love causing confusion, panic, and fear. As I have surely mentioned before, human emotions are so enjoyable.
Another puppet of mine urgently 'needed' to fly across Europe. A matter of 'love'. These always provide the most fun. This poor fool had one chance to 'get the girl'. So, I decided to feast.
Nature responded to my calls. A number of volcanoes billowed smoke and ash around Europe. The silly bastard is well and truly stuck. He even tried to find another way to her. Determined.
Nevertheless, he failed. As a result, he is now sitting depressed in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, contemplating suicide.
How delightful.
~Sialon.

Regret

I should have learned by now not to mess with powers above mine. Especially Sialon.
I regret to inform you that in my last post, "Of Strength", I impersonated Sialon in an attempt to make myself feel better and to explain myself to readers.
I'm sorry.
I shouldn't have done that.
Sialon is not impressed.
His protection has lessened.
I may have ruined my chances of joining him.
He is angry.
As soon as I was alone, his torture increased dramatically.
Tonight is not going to be a good night.
I am sorry, to all of you.
Readers,
Sialon,
And a few specific others.
I am sorry.
Regretfully,
Ashm.

Of Strength

This one is strong. He is 'better' already. He certainly looks fine. All signs of sorrow are gone. He's not happy, but he is no longer depressed. Gone is the pain, confusion, fear, and sorrow.
He is strong.
~Sialon

Of Sorrow and Confusion.

Ah, the sorrow. The sorrow, pain, confusion, and fear. The things my puppets go through. Humans certainly are interesting.
He tells me he's not depressed, that he'll be fine. But, I can see the pain in his eyes. The suit he wears seems to fool everyone around him, but he can't fool me. He is mine, it's my business to know what he's feeling.
You humans, with your pitiful emotions. You are the only beings I know that have such conflicting feelings. Love, a concept that brings both happiness and sadness. Healing and hurt. 'Ups and downs,' as you would say.
Only humans have such mixed feelings. For example, this particular human is, right now, sad, confused, in pain, angry, and scared. It's truly amazing.
And it provides good entertainment.
Oh, he wants me to say that this isn't real, and not to read too much into to, especially certain people. Fool, saying 'certain people' won't work. Everyone is going to know who he's talking about.
There, I said it. He is under my protection. I have to give something in return for his pitiful life.
Believe what you will.
I enjoy watching your pain.
This should be interesting.
     ~ Sialon

Of Essence and Comradeship.

It seems this one does not need to be broken.
He has already begun.
He is on the way to joining me.
He wrote this in his journal, not intending it to be published. But, I think the outcome could be entertaining.


With each slice, I forget.
With each cut, I get further away.
Each drip of blood that escapes, he takes.
Each drip of essence that I lose, he gains.
Slice, cut.
Drip, drip.
Closer to full immersion, closer to full removal.
The removal of myself from this plane.
I go.
I go to join my tormentor.
Only with Sialon shall I be free.


He will become like me.
He already shows characteristics unseen in normal humans.
This one is strong.
This one in determined.
I must be careful.
Keep him under my control.
Or he will ruin all my fun.
He can't kill all of you.
    ~ Sialon

Of Existence And Subservience

For the few of you pitiful humans who are curious, I am not a creation of any of you arrogant maggots. I am, however, imagined by you. That does not make me any less real. I exist, both physically and imagined. I am endless. I manifest myself both physically and in your imaginations.
To those of you who are somewhat learned, I am closest in kin to the beings you call demons. The 'true Gods' as those of you who are closest to the truth call them. But, while these demons, especially the demons known as Goetic, tend to help humanity, in particular the learned Satanists, I find pleasure in the torment and destruction of your pitiful, disgusting race.
I am what your Christians based their demons on.
I am in control of the worthless human writing this. He is one of my chosen. He suffers unimaginable torment. In return, he has my protection. He has my promise of reincarnation. He has the potential to join me. I give him the gift of mental illness, and he uses it to write. The products of his twisted, tormented mind are not all published. The ones you have read are but the tip of the iceberg, as you insects are so fond of saying.
These stories give him release.
He is mine.
For I am the bane of your existence.
I am sorrow.
I am torment.
I am endless.
I am Sialon.

Of War and Torment

Throughout all the millenia, I have seen many truly wonderful things. Your race has flourished. You live, love, and die. But nothing is truly more amazing than your concepts of war and hate. There is nothing more satisfying than seeing one of my plans come to fruition. After decades of preparation, scheming, plotting, after all the treaties, pacts, and promises, when war is declared, it all comes together.
Countries and men become 'allies' and 'friends' and turn their backs on one another, breaking their pacts and promises, letting their so-called 'allies' squander in pain, misery, and defeat. The few years of peace created by politicians and 'visionaries' is only preparation for the next era of suffering.
Whilst taking a break from tormenting my favorite humans, while they are in the reincarnation process or are too young to terrify satisfyingly, I get to work in creating world-wide sorrow.
My current human is getting weak.
It won't be long now.

I look forward to your misery
    ~ Sialon

Chapter One - The Sialon Chronicles

Alexis awoke with a start. Glancing at the clock beside her bed, she reached out and hit the sleep button. "Just a few more minutes," she thought. "I'm so tired." Sighing, she relaxed. Life was so hectic lately. With the courses at uni, and Violet's depression, Alexis hardly got any time for herself. At least Violet was getting better. And Zeke was certainly helping. He was so cheerful, just being around him could make anyone feel better.
Sighing again, Alexis flung off the covers and swung her legs out of bed. Grabbing a top, she pulled it on and headed toward the bathroom. "I look terrible," she complained to no one in particular. The late nights certainly weren't helping. Her long brown hair was a mess of knots and split ends. The bags under her brown eyes were too visible for her liking. She grabbed a brush and started to tame her hair.
Footsteps rang through the flat. "One of the others must be up," thought Alexis. Splashing water on her face, she wandered in the general direction of the kitchen.
"Well, you look great," said a smooth voice.
"Why, thank you, Zeke. I try," Alexis replied. Zeke was one of Alexis' closest friends, the cheerful one of the group. Three years older than Alexis, Zeke had taken a few gap years between school and uni to pursue. . . other intrests. His black hair and dark green eyes never failed to attract attention, even though that combination wasn't exactly rare. Perhaps it was his height, or unusual choice of clothing. Zeke chose to dress in casual suits, wherever he went. "And you're not looking hungover at all."
"Yeah, rough night. Beyond The Shadow had a gig. And of course, then there was the afterparty," Zeke explained. Beyond The Shadow was Zeke's post-punk band. He played rhythm guitar. He was damn good too, although Alexis would never admit that to his face. His ego was swollen enough already. "Coffee?" Zeke offered.
"Yes, please," a soft voice spoke from behind Alexis.
"Morning, Violet," Alexis greeted her closest mate.
"Good morning, Alexis," Violet replied. She certainly was an oddity; that was why Alexis liked her so much. Her dark blue eyes stood out amongst her long, black hair. She was rather short, and didn't like people pointing it out. She had been just got through a real rough patch. Both Zeke and Alexis had spent a lot of time helping her through it. Alexis suspected that she was better now mainly dude to a certain plant Zeke had introduced her to, but Alexis didn't mind. As long as Violet was okay.
"So, what are we all up to today?" Zeke asked.
"I'm heading into uni for a coupla lectures, then into town," Violet answered. "What about you, Alexis?"
"I don't have any lectures today. I'll probably just hang around here. Get some writing done," Alexis replied. "A quiet day will do me good," she thought to herself.
"Well, I've got band practise at Tim's, then I'm out and about in town. You should join me for lunch, Alexis. You too, Violet, if you can make it," Zeke offered.
"I'll see what I can do," said Violet.
"Yeah, same," Alexis wasn't sure if she wanted to go out. She hadn't written anything in a while, and she missed it. There was nothing like seeing a good psychological horror unfold as her pen moved across the page.
"Alrighty then. Well, I'd better get ready," said Zeke, leaving the room.
"Now, breakfast!" exclaimed Violet.

Chapter Two - The Sialon Chronicles

Once the others had gone, Alexis got out her journal full of her writing, and read over the last few pieces of work. They were good; her stories even creeped herself out occasionally. She had a few story ideas she wanted to try out, and was absorbed into her work quickly.
An hour later, she emerged. She could've sworn she had heard footsteps. The flat was out in the suburbs, and was one storey. There was no one else home. Perhaps it was paranoia. This happened occasionally while she was writing. She went back to it, but couldn't shake the feeling of someone else being there, watching her. She kept looking up, and glancing about the room. She could have sworn something was there.
There it was again, that flash of movement in her peripherals. She would have said it was her hair, except it happened when she was completely still. Glancing about nervously, Alexis scanned the room. She froze. There, in the doorway, was a dark, black figure. Almost like a shadow, except completely solid. Alexis blinked, slowly.
Suddenly, the shadow ran off. The sound it made as it moved was horrendous. The loudest footsteps she'd ever heard. Nothing that small could make that kind of noise. Grabbing her pocket knife off the table, she flicked it open, and stalked out of the room. "Why am I doing this?" she wondered. Slowly, she checked all the rooms. No sign of. . . whatever it was. Heading back to her room, she grabbed her bag, chucked her journal, hip flask, and money in, and headed out the door. Perhaps a quiet day wouldn't help. She'd go to lunch with Zeke after all.

Prologue (part 2) - The Sialon Chronicles

You twirl around trying to find an escape. The creature screams again, an ear-piercing shriek that sends an icy chill to your very bones. As you spin around, you see that you and the creature are completely alone. The plateau that surrounds you is completely flat. There are dark mountains on the horizon. There's no shelter from the cold wind, and certainly no escape.
Turning to face the thing that brought you here, you shout raggedly, "What do you want?! Why'd you bring me here?" The thing silences it's screech. Facing you, it grins menacingly. It's teeth are sickenly pointed, as if filed down painstakingly on bone. The voice that escapes from it's mouth, however, is the polar opposite. Smooth, soft, and cooling.
"Why, don't you remember me? Not as strong this time, are we?"
"This time? What are you?"
"WHO am I? You should know, we've met before. Not in this lifetime of yours, but many, many times before. I've had such fun with you over the years."
"What are you on about? Let me go!" you shriek.
"No. Why would I do such a thing? You are mine. Have been for the last few centuries, and you will be for the rest of eternity." the creature sends a chill over you as it speaks.
"What the FUCK?! Let me GO! Please!" you beg, shaking.
"Beg all you want, you're mine, there's nothing you can do to change that. Get used to it, it's not the first time it's happened." it explains, impatiently. Frantic, you search for something to use as a weapon, even though you know fighting this thing is pointless. The creature starts pacing slowly towards you. Your hand falls on a ragged, cold rock. The being is getting close. Only a few metres away now.
Postioning the rock against the ground, you whisper, "Goodbye, Sialon." Ramming your head towards the ground, Sialon shrieks again. Your head bashes into the rock, and your skull shatters. The rock goes through your skull, between your eyes, and pulverises your brain.
"He remembered. . ." Sialon whispered.
"Until next time. . ."

Prologue (part 1) - The Sialon Chronicles

There it is again. That flash of movement, in your peripherals. Tonight's not the first time you've noticed it. But it is the first time it's happened at night. You know that, if you turn around, you'll be able to see it. For this isn't like the tales of 'Shadow People'. This doesn't disappear when you look directly at it. And it's certainly not a shadow. Shadows don't move of their own volition. And shadows definitely don't run through your house, making loud footsteps right outside your door. Shadows can't move objects. Whatever it is, it's not going to go away. It won't move until you turn around. Slowly, you turn your head, preparing yourself for what you might see. All the other times, it's been a solid, dark figure, standing, staring. But that was during the day. Now, it's past 2am. There's no one else in the house. You keep turning.
Weird, there's nothing there. It was in the corner of the lounge, but now, it's not. It always makes an unmissable, nightmarish noise when it runs off. Chillingly, you realise it must still be here. Thoroughly paranoid now, you spin back around.
A screeching bursts from the thing's face, which is inches from your own. A blank palette, with just a mouth and eyes. Cold, empty, black eyes. It's breath is cold, strangly, icily cold. And it stinks. The stench is literally breathtaking. You can't breathe. The chill spreads from your face down your spine.
Then, the screeching stops. You can breathe again. Taking a gasp of not-so-fresh air, you glance at the nightmare in front of you. One thing's for sure, you're not in your lounge anymore.
The creature is now 10 or so metres in front of you, glaring. It's ragged robe flutters around it's pale, cold ankles. It seems to emit cold. And it's arms, oh, it's freakish, unatural arms. The skin, if you could call it that, seems to be covering the bone itself. The small amount of flesh that is visible is hanging off by a rotting thread.
The terrain this horror is standing on matches it well. An icy, ragged, rocky landscape. Blue, pale blue and grey everywhere. The very sky seems to be protesting your presence. Dark, black clouds are gathering above you. The howling wind whirls between you and the creature of your dreams.

A weird one.

I have walked through many wonders of this world, all throughout time. I have seen it all.
Or so I thought. For I have discovered you. There is nothing on this planet at any time more beautiful than your face, when contorted in a scream only achievable through the utmost terror. I have found a reason to stay in this world. For there is nothing in Hell comparable to this. In this, there are many lifetimes of entertainment. Yes, many lifetimes. For I shall keep you with me beyond your pitiful lifetime. Unknowingly, you shall be my plaything for millennia. You will, of course, die, as all you pitiful humans do. But I shall give you the gift of reincarnation. Well, it's a gift in my eternal eyes. A gift to myself. You shall go about your day-to-day life in a state of total paranoia. There shall be no escape, I will follow you everywhere. If you tell anyone about the terrible creature that has been following you, torturing you, they will put you in a nice, soft, quiet room. Well, it would be quiet if it weren't for your screams. For in that room, you and I would be alone.
I will enjoy your many suicides. It'll be a nice break, watching you torture and kill yourself. Because, of course, dying is no escape. The only outcome of death for you is a nice, fresh, new body, and total ignorance. A fresh start for me...
You'd better try get some sleep. You have a long day ahead of you.
Not that I'll let you sleep, of course.