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03-29-24 03:08 AM
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Xeogaming Forums - Muses' Sanctuary - Legacy, because I'm able to post again.
  
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Elara
Posts: 5725/9734
Yes, it was rather artsy, wasn't it?

Ha, the board slashed you. The Xeo-slasher.
Lord Vulkas Mormonus
Posts: 3560/4540
Eh, I was more talking about how the dialog sounds pretty artificial. More artsy than realistic. And yeah, this board slashed my story.
Elara
Posts: 5719/9734
When you say the strange dialogue do you mean the two instances of saying "you" instead of "do" and the \\\ in every contraction word? I think the latter is some system thing, since it's in your sig as well, but I want to make sure.

Anyway, the story is really neat. Kinda vague as expected, but a really neat look at the concept. Awesome.
Lord Vulkas Mormonus
Posts: 3550/4540
Heh, no, the idea was more just floating in my head for a while, and so I was walking along the road one day when I thought, you know, this would be an interesting way to tell the story, so I did it.
Phoenixocracy
Posts: 682/2746
I like this. A lot.

What were your ideas? He was obviously a business owner of some sort, but did you have anyone you based him off?
Lord Vulkas Mormonus
Posts: 3547/4540
Alright, so I wrote this for my creative writing class, based on a couple of ideas that were running through my mind, so enjoy.

And for the helpful critics, the strange dialog is a little deliberate, and I felt it was necessary for the type of story I was doing.

Legacy

I stared down at him, at my friend. Chuck, we called him. He was like a father to me. He was dying, his cancer at last winning its fateful battle. Chemotherapy did nothing, no amount of radiation would heal him.

We stared at each other for what seemed like hours, both knowing that this talk would be our last, neither wanting to waste our final words.

“Don\\\\\\\'t turn out like me,” he at last said.

New tears entered into my eyes. “What do you mean?” I asked. “You always did the best with what you had.”

He tried to shake his head, but coughed with just that effort. “No...I was never anything more than anyone else. I never made a difference. I was never important.”

I looked at him. His hair white, his skin red, flushed with pain. “Only at the end,” he said, “Only at the end do I realize what is truly important. You will remember me, your children may remember me, but beyond that, I\\\\\\\'m gone. Nothing more than a fleeting thought in earth\\\\\\\'s memory.”

We sat in his bedroom, he didn\\\\\\\'t want to spend his last moments in a busy hospital, dressed in an uncomfortable gown, laying on a sterilized bed a thousand other men had died on. A TV in the room, with nothing more than a few basic channels.

“You saved us,” I said. “Without you, none of us would be anything.”

His sheets were white, his blanket a bright sky-blue. It seemed inappropriate, the colors were too happy for this. It almost made it worse, almost.

He laughed, or tried to. A grunt of pain. “I adopted you,” he said. “It was never meant as anything more than publicity. A public relations ploy, a way to make myself more money. You were supposed to be raised in day cares and by servants.”

The walls were gray, a gigantic mirror leaned against one wall, he must have stood in front of that mirror a thousand times, adjusting his tie, straightening his jacket.

“But it never turned out that way,” I said. “You took us, all four of us who would have been nothing. You took us under your wing, taught us everything we know.”

He stared back up at me, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Even that didn\\\\\\\'t work,” he said. “One of you left, never to speak to us again. Two others turned to drugs. Only you, only you have any hope for a good life.”

My eyes widened. His mouth turned into a small smirk. “You didn\\\\\\\'t think I knew about them? I may not be your father, but I still know you like sons.”

My eyes drifted, this room had many windows. All of them were dark. The blinds were closed, concealing the night behind them.

“You can\\\\\\\'t blame yourself for them,” I finally said, more tears floating into my eyes. “You were too late. they lived in foster homes, drifting from place to place, it destroyed them.”

He nodded, but a sad look still covered his eyes. He knew, but it made no difference.

“And what of my other pursuits?” he said. “I destroyed other businesses for my own profit. I was considered ruthless, terrible. Customers were ripped off by my business, but still came back for more, believing I was the best.”

“But you stopped,” I said. “You tried to fix everything. You tried to be more than you once were.”

The room was small, but it was serviceable. A soft lamp lit the contents with a pale white color. It only emphasized his dying face.

He shook his head. “It wasn\\\\\\\'t enough. I was fired from the board. I couldn\\\\\\\'t do anything then.”
“But you did you something. You donated even what money you had to charity. What you gave made a difference. What you did helped.”

He coughed, once again. “Perhaps you\\\\\\\'re right,” he said. “Still...was it enough? Will anyone remember me? Will they remember me for what I was, or for what I am now? What will matter, my wrongs, my misdeeds, or what I did you raise you? Will my charity ever be important?”

I took his hands in mine. “Does it matter?” I asked. “You did enough.”

He sighed a deep breath. “Enough for you, enough to make up for my misdeeds, maybe. But it is still not enough. I could have done more, could have helped more.” His eyes stared into mine, pleading, unsatisfied. “It is never enough.”

His eyes went still, his hand went limp.

I froze, not content to let it end here. “Your legacy will live on,” I said. “You will be remembered, what you have done will make a difference. I will make sure of that.”

I looked once more down on him, and closed his dead eyes. The cancer had won, but his legacy would live on. It would live on because he was right.

It is never enough.
Xeogaming Forums - Muses' Sanctuary - Legacy, because I'm able to post again.



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