Nag

Music: Elend, "Sunwar the Dead"

I am restless, as if my soul hosts an angry sea. I suppose if I get enough sleep I will be better. And when I shed my monthly blood I will be even better.

In the heart of initiation nothing matters

The world is falling apart

I think that vomiting would be a fine way to show my perspective

Purge myself of the extraneous

I don’t want to let go, I am the one who is causing this agony to myself

But I don’t want to let go

It’s like losing a loved one or a child

I can’t let go

Yet.

The problem is simple yet devious. I realised after almost four years of busying myself with my body of work that this body of work will not continue. I don’t know why, save for the obvious reasons of copyright involved. You see, all the characters and events are mine but the playground I chose belongs to someone else. What’s even worse is that I chose this playground willingly, because I needed to pay homage to the particular genre. Don’t ask me why. I do have a whole universe created by me, the creation of which begun back in 1993. It's not like I don't have inspiration. It is actually beyond epic proportions... A living, breathing world. It even has its own fan club, friends of mine who heard the stories of all those heroes and heroines. At some point I realised that in Greece nobody reads horror and fantasy and came to the conclusion that I must start writing in English. At that turning point, I started writing something else, which I wanted to be a short piece to deal with an incident from a role playing game I participated in that time: Vampire the Masquerade. Just a break, I said to myself. A break that after almost four years of developing can be broken down to six books or two trilogies. One and a half book is already down to paper. So, I reach the point of realising after these four years that this second project is not meant to be, while I have not re-written the first. I cannot publish this for a hundred different reasons, copyright being the basic –and logical- one. Cause what is even more strong and important is my inner voice telling me "this phase is over. You must now move on to the next." Don’t ask me which one is the next. Those bloody little voices never give further explanations.

"I have seen the veil, / I have seen the grave,/ the rain it came/ and silence covers all./

The drops like spears, / this hollow chest/ these salty eyes that never rest./ They have seen this world/ they have seen the dead,/ the night it came/ and silence covers all.

O praise the moon/ don’t await the dawn/ the river’s stream, the glimmering sky/

I wandered all alone./

O sweet hemlock kiss,/ the poisonsea burns/ and silence covers all.

O let them scatter my heart among the ruins./

You turn, you shiver- your skin so pale, your breath so cold/ I have been longing for your love,/ I have been trying not to lose you./"

The hemlock sea (Elend)

Elend’s music is such a wonderful way to force myself to spit all the poison out. I do this in full knowledge of what it causes me. Hemlock, heh. Poppyseeds and mandrake. Aphrodite. Was it Hecate or Aphrodite the one called "lady of mandrakes"? I don’t really remember. I will look it up.

So I simply have to let go. And this is the last thing that actually keeps me, my very last anchor. Ha, why is it so bloody obvious to me that even that has be swept away to fulfill the final conditions of my inevitable initiation?

Dammit. It hurts. I know it would. It was the last thing left. It goes too. For good or for ill. Goodbye.