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Posted in: Column of the Month
August 2014 CotM: An American Motion Sickness-Il Mondo è Abbastanza Grande Senza di te
By Cult Icon
Oct 30, 2014 - 1:28:16 PM

LordsofPain.net is pleased to present to you the August 2014 Columnist of the Month- Cult Icon



Lick your lips and get on the horse son; somebody’s going to die tonight. I tighten the satchel and make sure my weapons are close at hand. This fever in me boils, and it will boil in me until I have tasted the medicine of revenge or until a higher power whispers in my ear that the world is big enough without you. Till then no defeat, no surrender, only revenge.

The earth rises at the sound of running, and now I ride. I can feel him in the distance, readying to run. I will race him; whether it’s up into the snow covered hills or six feet through dirt I will race him and I don’t intend on losing. But it matters not who wins the race and more about the man who can plant his flag into the flesh of a dying man. I make that silent promise to myself; to my brother that it’s my flag that will violate his corpse for all that he’s done to me. I have a fever in me, a betrayal that will not leave till I do, and I intend for this to not be the last war I rage, the last race I run.

The earth screams at me like circus crowd and I can feel the cold chill in the air grip me like the love of a woman. It hurts me, it inspires me, and it makes me ride faster. Not much longer now, not…much…longer…now! He must be near, ready to fight for his life, ready to pay for the sins that have poisoned my brain. I think of what will become of me when I see him; for a moment I want to cry, the next I want to bite off his face. The fever in me is so hot that it kills the cold around me. Moments of sanity break through; how did it come to this, how did two brothers in arms become enemies in our own private war? And then I see him. There he is, riding away from me, and sanity becomes the fever of the insane once again. The race begins.

He surprises me as he runs north, heading for the hills. For a moment it surprises me that a man stuck to the earth would want to meet me in the mountains of madness. But what he wants he’ll get; I’m willing to play dead in the snow as this fever keeps me warm. I ride further, the earth’s screams becoming a crunch that bangs in my head like a drum. He rides faster than me but I will take my time; this is a race won by the slow and steady. I’ll let him think he has me, let him think he’s caught me in this trap. There’s always a trap with him, but I welcome it. I shall eat his trap and spit it back out at him before he breathes his last.

Each step up the hills feels like the touch of warm steel, my fever continuing to dull me from the cold. I’m closer now, closer to the trap, closer to him. I know they’re coming from behind the corner before they do, his two thugs. I smile to myself as I pull the trigger and I wonder how it must feel like to be them, to die as lightweight scum. Did they ever realize they never were in this game they were playing? For a moment sanity creeps in and I think about how he let them die for him and am reminded of how I was once willing to do so for him. And like that it’s gone again.

I keep the weapons out as I ride on by their corpses; he’s near, waiting to corner me at the top and finish the job. And sure enough there he is around the bend, waiting on a ledge with me dead to rights in his sights. It’s all I need. The ride is over, the race is run, and I will charge at him with everything in me. Damn the weapons, lick your lips and get off the horse son, someone’s dying right now. I sprint towards him, his gun looking me in the eye with every step I take. He’s scared shitless and hesitates and God I know I’ve won. That’s the thing about the sane that will forever keep me in the game; they always hesitate. I get to him and I know what I must do. And with one last lunge, we are falling out of the sky like snow, with snow.

The fall feels like forever, and I glance out as far as I can see, soaking in one last skyline. I turn to him and I can see his face burning with the realization of defeat, a fear so delicious that it breaks my fever. He never thought after all he had burned that it would end like this, a slow, agonizing descent from a mountain to hell. I feel good, I feel content, and for a moment it’s okay that there will be no more races to run, no more wars to wage, no more debts to settle. I look out into that horizon, I hear the circus scream and I let the sanity creep back in. Because it’s okay to feel normal just once right before you die.

But it’s not over. The snow filled earth catches us like a hard pillow, and sanity is replaced with pain, but only pain. And in that moment the fever returns and I realize that my job is yet to be done. I know he’s alive; even buried in powder I can hear his breathing. I will play dead in the snow and let him think some force out there has spared him to fight another day. For nothing is better than letting a man think he’s escaped, when in reality he’s only just gotten past the prologue. I climb up from the rubble and there he is stumbling away. He’s mine. For the first time in forever he’s all mine, and I’ll use the medicine wisely. My weapons are no longer necessary; I’ll simply do this the old fashioned way.

His hair feels like string as I grab him by it, and my work begins. My smile grows wider the more times my fist hits his face, and soon it’s a grin that would block out the sun. I hit him with everything I can, using every inch of earth and myself available. He tries to fight back but it’s useless. I fling him against the wall of the cliff and it sounds like a table breaking. In that moment I could kill him right where he lay, howling in pain like an animal waiting to be put out of its misery. But the medicine doesn’t work fast, and thus I will take my time for his sins. I pick him up and resume the beating.

The more I torture I him the louder he screams, and it fills my head with a spirit I’ve never known. Memories bounce around in my head like his head against the ground, and for a moment sanity creeps in again. It wasn’t supposed to be like this; we were supposed to be brothers in arms forever, running rough shot over every game we came across, every threat we met. I find myself with tears in my eyes and strikes become harder and harder and harder. He had betrayed this insane man one too many times, and now there was nowhere else to go. Not for him, not for me. I beat him until he’s broken, till I know that he’s no longer a threat to me. And now I know it’s time to let go; now I know it’s time to end this and move on.

My weapons damaged from the fall, I search through the snow for his gun. I can take my time, he’s not going anywhere. Soon the weapon is in my hands, and the feeling of freedom washes over me in a cold burst. Finally it will be over; finally there can be something other than revenge. I walk back and stand over him, ready to aim the gun right between his eyes. He looks at me with regret, and the last bit of respect I could’ve had for him fades into the grey sky. I aim the gun right between the eyes, and unlike him I’m not going to miss.

But there is nothing; no shot, no splatter, no revenge. Instead a sharp pain strangles my spine and I am engulfed in darkness, kicking and screaming to get out. What has happened? I struggle and struggle until the light returns and there he is looking over me. I try to stand up but cannot move; something sinister is nearby, something that has stopped me the way he couldn’t. He flashes that smile at me, and God I know he’s won. There will be no revenge; there will be no life after this. He points the gun at me, and I know it’s over. Waiting, waiting, waiting…but there’s no shot.

Instead he laughs and smashes my head with the gun, almost to the point of knocking me out. He then disappears into the snow, and I struggle to come to the realization. There was no shot. He had defeated me, had stopped me from my revenge, had left me dead in the snow…and yet there was no shot. The medicine wears off and the fever returns. I find myself able to weakly turn my head and I laugh. There was no shot, and he has made the worst mistake of his life. There was no shot, and now this fever will burn in my brain forever. He has left me alive, and it will be the greatest sin he’s ever made. I look up at the snow falling on my face; I can’t even feel it the fever burns so bright. I close my eyes and smile. I’ll get him next time. I’ll get him next time…


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