Post by Rowan MacDonnough on Aug 7, 2023 4:29:05 GMT
"It's easy to forget.
Nightmares. Fears. Pains. Traumas. Moments in your life that at the time feel so defining. So potent in the raw anguish that you feel as though you will never recover. Your sanity frays. Your will to live falters. In the moment of your greatest hurt, there is no world around you - life is truly pain.
But then you survive it.
Another day comes. Another sun rises. You hear the birds in the trees and feel the wind on your face, and it doesn't feel quite so bad. You heal. You move on. Over time the nightmares fade, and even the scars cease to ache in your darkest moments. You forget the face of your agony. You forget its scent. You forget its sounds. It all becomes a dull, echoing blur in the back of your mind - dulled over time by new joys, new successes - perhaps even new heartaches or fears or horrors. One way or another, the memory begins to fade.
And you convince yourself in those small moments that perhaps it never happened. Perhaps it wasn't so bad. Maybe you were just overreacting in the moment. You were younger, after all. Inexperienced. You've clearly suffered worse since... haven't you? You must have.
You grow calm. Complacent. You even forget that you had forgotten as it all fades back into unnecessary history and context.
But then... One day.
One day you wake up and something is wrong. One day you wake up and it's a little too quiet. A little too dark. Something is wrong and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck begin to quietly raise, and a gnawing panic starts to grow in the back of your mind as you feel the eyes of something old upon you. You quicken your pace. You try not to breathe so loud because you are afraid something might hear you, but you are running now. Running from something you cannot see, that you are not fully certain is there. Running desperately, breath catching in your throat as you run to a place you pray is safe. Hope crests in your chest as you see the familiar doors. The high walls. The gates and bars and locks that you put in place so long ago that you convinced yourself were no longer needed now become a sanctuary from a horror your mind has tricked you into thinking you could forget.
You race through the door. You slam it shut behind you. You lock it down, bar the doors, and let yourself breathe. You are alone. You are safe. You have to be.
And then you turn around... and you see me standing behind you.
Hello, Imprerial Wrestling Federation.
It has been far too long.
But it is alright.
I never forgot you.
I would never abandon you.
A mother always comes back to teach her children the hard lessons.
And you?
It seems that in my absence you have allowed the lessons I carved into your skin to be forgotten. You have become soft. Complacent. Weak.
Rejoice, children. I will teach you the error of your ways, and usher in a new era of anguish and horror that this time, I hope, you will never be able to forget.
Let the lessons begin.
One day you wake up and something is wrong. One day you wake up and it's a little too quiet. A little too dark. Something is wrong and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck begin to quietly raise, and a gnawing panic starts to grow in the back of your mind as you feel the eyes of something old upon you. You quicken your pace. You try not to breathe so loud because you are afraid something might hear you, but you are running now. Running from something you cannot see, that you are not fully certain is there. Running desperately, breath catching in your throat as you run to a place you pray is safe. Hope crests in your chest as you see the familiar doors. The high walls. The gates and bars and locks that you put in place so long ago that you convinced yourself were no longer needed now become a sanctuary from a horror your mind has tricked you into thinking you could forget.
You race through the door. You slam it shut behind you. You lock it down, bar the doors, and let yourself breathe. You are alone. You are safe. You have to be.
And then you turn around... and you see me standing behind you.
Hello, Imprerial Wrestling Federation.
It has been far too long.
But it is alright.
I never forgot you.
I would never abandon you.
A mother always comes back to teach her children the hard lessons.
And you?
It seems that in my absence you have allowed the lessons I carved into your skin to be forgotten. You have become soft. Complacent. Weak.
Rejoice, children. I will teach you the error of your ways, and usher in a new era of anguish and horror that this time, I hope, you will never be able to forget.
Let the lessons begin.
Well howdy there pardner.