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Vanquished Deception[01.23.01] » by ScaRR Inspiration strikes at the strangest of moments -English Composition
Assingment #1
A perceptual conflict
to conquer, a denial to overcome.
vanquished deception
"But what
she sees are my faults and indecision
I do not want to admit it. I am running away from the truth, from my feared conviction - the abysmal oblivion that engulfs my barren contradictions like a monstrous leech. I am grasping at denial, denial so blatant it pricks at my tormented soul like a hundred venomous thorns. I am clenching forcefully on such obtrusive disgrace it mortifies the shadows that fade even from my heels. Run, run like the wind- -stealth is imperative- I flee undeviatingly, unconcerned with dubious questioning. -what are you running from- -where are you going- Or maybe I refuse to answer to my own consternation. It swells around me like a murky nebula, enveloping the duskiness with a darker veil of gloom. Evasion is impossible, and resistance is futile. With a desperate resignation, I shut my eyes and relent the foreboding wisps of delusion to conquer my weakened certitude, consume my stammering disheartenment… I relent it to prevail my desolate consciousness. I am disconcerted, entrapped in a self-dispute that rages within my mind. I had allowed it to overtake me, and the sentence is executed, the penalization paid in full price- -I am declared lost. Find your way out. But out of where? Unearthing the doorway to sanity is a trial by itself. Search the reason. Search what? Search your reason. I have no explanation,
and of that, I feel a stab of guilt. But why am I guilty? I forbid myself
from further quandary. But my will succumbs to perturbation, and I permit
myself the inquiry
Because you are in denial. Shut up. Shut up, I want to retort. Go away, and leave me alone. Leave me with the shadows. The shadows mock me. I do not care. I ignore their brazen derision, it is easier to face than my conscience. I am sinking, slowly but surely I am. I am sinking into the swallowing currents of lost sanctuary. I do not care. "Come this spring... I'm leaving this town for Midgar." His cerulean eyes gleamed with impassioned longing. This was the moment he had been yearning for, he desired to tell he his determined resolve. She would be so happy. "…All boys are leaving our town." A distinct melancholy overtook her radiant eyes. His heart staggered precariously. Wasn't she pleased for him? "But I'm different from all of them. I'm not just going to find a job. I want to join SOLDIER." He insisted with a resolute persistence. If only she knew how much he wanted to ascertain his worthiness for her. "I'm going to be the best there is, just like Sephiroth." "Sephiroth.... The Great Sephiroth." How could she make him understand that he didn't need to prove himself to be her friend? "Isn't it hard to join SOLDIER?" "...I probably wont be able to come back to this town for a while." She felt like crying, but desisted. She knew she would miss him more than he would ever know. "Will you be in the newspapers if you do well?" "I'll try." He would try anything. He would try anything if it was for her. "Hey, why don't we make a promise?" Such an innocent request, he did not have the heart to deny. "Umm, if you get really famous and I'm ever in a bind… you'll come save me, all right?" "What?" "Whenever I'm in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me. I want to experience that at least once. Come on! Promise me!" ".... I promise." He was so childishly driven by puerile aspirations, but more than that he was blinded by his desire to please her. She was so beautiful even her tears serve only to flaunt the loveliness of her eyes. "I'll miss you, Cloud." "Me too. But just wait and see, I'll come back for you!" A boyish smile lit his ecstatic face as a brilliant shooting star above them sealed their pact. I promise. The darkness is closer. I cower in contrition as it tramples contemptuously upon my haunted reflections. I beseech it to tread gently. It does not listen. Eleven years old then, he knew the meaning of hope. Later on it gradually diminished from his heart like a forgotten attribution of his miserable childhood. "Hey Runt, report to the headquarters immediately." They always called him Runt. He hated it. He never knew a time
when he was not anxious to impress her. Leaving his hometown, Nibelheim,
was a resolute intention he yearned for and never regretted. Thus he set
off for Midgar
To join the Shinra. I'm going to be the best there is, just like Sephiroth. The war raged ferociously against some distant province called Wutai, but that was not important. What was important was that he was doing all this for her. Umm, if you get really famous and I'm ever in a bind… you'll come save me, all right? It was important, because she meant more than anything to him. Because all throughout his forsaken childhood, he was ostracized for being the weaker individual, and she was compassionate to him. She was popular, she was everyone's darling, she was everyone's favourite. He was the runt. He was always the runt. His destitute adolescence provided only a single consolation - her. She was willing to accept him despite his inferiority in comparison to the other children. Sometimes he wondered why. "Cloud Danvon Strife, Enlistee 067?" "Yes, Sir." He saluted so robustly she would have been proud of him. He had been waiting for this moment all his life. He was brimming with ardent anticipation, he wondered what rank did he make after all those years of training. He did not make it. He did not even make it to SOLDIER, much less the transcript of General Sephiroth, whom every zealous young warrior deemed their hero. "So, Runt, you can still stay, ya know. Like, some guard on duty or something." Of course there was
no returning to Nibelheim, he was a failure, and it was foolish assumption
to consider himself well received on arrival. Briefly he contemplated on
how he was going
Then he decided not to. "I accept." Condemnation reproaches my heart, already hemmed with disconsolation. I am a failure, and that is the truth. I am a failure- -You lie. Acrid bitterness courses through me, and I utter with a virulence never perceived before in my pathetic existence. I admit it. Are you satisfied now? I admit letting her down. I admit I am demeaning, pitifully ineffectual, and I do not deserve her tenderness, nor anyone's endearment. You lie. It resounds so softly, yet berates so savagely. Fate was brutal. Wutai allied with none other than Nibeheim in a desperate resort. The conclusion was so apparent it stung. He didn't need the newspapers to know of Sephiroth's unprecedented performance in the bloodthirsty rampage of his hometown, for he was there to witness the wretched massacre. More precisely, he was there to do his job. Stand guard. Seal the town. Block all escape routes. Make sure no one survives. Plunder. Slaughter. Slay. But when he saw Sephiroth's majestic sword plunge unmercifully and slash across her, he almost felt the ripping torture himself. He saw her misted scarlet eyes fly open in incredulous anguish, he saw her paling lips mouth a silent plea. A plea she thought unheard. He heard. And a courage, a momentary surge of fearlessness gripped his heart so fiercely he could not believe himself wielding his sword and advancing towards his postulated hero. With a sorrow-filled war cry, the two men engaged in an unanticipated battle. Forged in the perilous combat, he suddenly faltered. What was he doing? Why was he betraying his own general? How could he expect to win? He was losing his mind and his sense of rational composure. He was so lost. General Sephiroth is cruel. War was cruel. Innocent civilians were a unfortunate but necessary sacrifice. Were they? You'll come save me, all right? The irony smarted. He could not even make his mark as a soldier, let alone defeat the mighty Sephiroth. How could anyone expect a useless runt to keep his promise? His wavering was a deadly mistake. The blood-tinged sword sliced down harshly, and he felt himself dying almost instantaneously. I am writhing in rentless agony. I know that she has implored for her hero to save her. But it is impossible. No it is not. I am not strong enough. I have accepted the fact that I am lost in it. I am lost in my inferior complex, but I will not find my way out, because I know I cannot. You can. Suddenly, comprehension creeps within me as I try to defeat my own precarious uncertainties. I feel an abrupt cognizance as once-abandoned hope flourishes my soul. Will you promise to come for me when I need you? Yes. Yes, I will. Jolting out of my reverie, I see Sephiroth's blade strike downwards for a killing termination. I will deprive him of that satisfaction. With an unexpected alacrity, I thrust my sword deep into him before he even realizes his own defeat. Time crashes to a standstill as he utters a silent bellow and slumps to his death. I have won. I clamber towards her,
apprehension clouding my vision. She has survived the encounter, but barely.
With an immense exertion, I reach out to stroke her ravishing dark locks
"Tifa…" She arouses and gasps in surprise, tears of inconceivable happiness flooding her cheeks. "Cloud… You came…" "I….I had to keep our
promise." I was lost, indubitably. Indeed I was confounded by my own indecision
and deceived by self- denunciation, but I had found my way out. For myself,
and
She heaved. "I knew you would come." A laboured smile tugged at her lips. "My hero would come for me." "I am not a-" I paused.
Why the need to deny my once-shattered conviction? I was a hero to her,
and that was enough. Yet my heart splintered at her incontestable faith.
"Why, Tifa?
She curled her fingers into mine. "Because… I never doubted you, Cloud. I…I always believed… you could make it. And I believe that despite your fallen confidence…I believed that you would...find your way out." I grasped her hand tightly, overjoyed that I had kept my promise. I had come for her, and I had proved my worth. "I believe it too, Tifa. I believe it now." And most of all, I
knew I had found myself.
She don't care about
my car
She likes me for
me
And she don't care
that I can fly her
She likes me for
me
Gazing at the ceiling
as we entertain our feelings in the dark
She likes me for
me
I'm so glad I found her once again Concluded Jan2001____________________________________________________________________________________________________ Hey Leonardo
copyright of Blessed Union of the Soul. The lyrics have been slightly
modified to adhere to the fanfic. I know the Sephiroth-concept was inaccurate,
but I was instructed a word limit, and that deprived me a chance of elaborating
on how he turned psychopathic. Readers should also detect a certain exclusion
of expletive language this time, but hell, it's schoolwork. And by the
way, Cloud and Tifa's earlier conversation (regarding their promise) was
directly lifted and altered from the original FFVII game script.
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