Firstly, I want to deeply apologize for anyone I has missed out on this story coming last week, and nearly two weeks from the expected publication date. It was a very, very, hectic month for me, and I always hope to be ahead, rather than so far behind. I is ow that this story is as supposed to have been completed earlier, but I'm thankful to have gotten it out before the end-of-the-week. I know that many people have been waiting a long while to read it, and to them, I thank them for their pâté ice, and apologize for my tardiness. I know it isn't much of a sentiment over the internet, and I know that it doesn't seem to matter,,but know I feel terrible that I missed the SSWkly post last week, and hope this second half makes up a great deal for it.
For this week, Part 2 of Urytz: Some Immortal, the story isnrathernlarge, and one of the reasons why I've split of I to 2 sections. This section should be equal, if-not greater to the first in length. So let's continue the story of Urytz now.
Urytz stared out into the clear ing, the old shape shambling alongside him, and beating himself up with every limp towards the promised land. The world as in peril, chaos around the immortal, as it has always been. If you live long enough, even the unpredictability of the natural maelstrom seems everyday. The old figure held its weight up on stalks, and against Urytz, both lumbering towards the village, the pond of which civilization had sprouted, where those who do not die, do not belong.
"We shall arrive before dawn, so more than half a day, but not a full cycle. They have let me go because I am old, surely it is not a mortal sin to be grey! Surely it is not my fault I'm limp, hoping for a grander life than this providential circumstances."
"Urytz! Ur-Ur-Urytz!" Urytz resonated with attempted vocals, but to what his meaning was, it fell on deaf ears, as the old figure continued to limp forward. The two figures, one barely holding into life, the other eons lived, marching towards the law of the decaying. Into the meadow they spent forth, hoping to find soemthing appealing, something not just of beauty and nature, but of might and men. They searched for the signs of civilization, tempting to fight back the urge to run towards a mystic ravine, or a sundry hallow. The place was aligned with morbid ideals, looking out towards the small village just by the underpass, just closing in on whe the old figure came forth, but days before. Hours and days, weeks and months, it surpassed a blatant envy of walking for years towards a passage of righteous commune, where old must depart,mand young control barely what they understand, thus is the law of the decaying. The village was abound with tempered minds, and hot lips willing to spew for hath doggeral obscenities.
The world was encased in the absurdity of righteousness, the platitude of guilt, and the morbidity of curiosity, henceforth, Urytz has seen it all before, the old figure was just akin to but a one millionth of the life experience the immortal had, so like an immature babe, he lumbered ahead of dying figure, the grey as old as Urytz's newest hair follicle. It was without arrest that neither party followed suite faster, thence the other towards the plight destination. All was right in the malarkey of the atmosphere, a cruel punishment of gangrenous droppings, as time seemed to peel off and rot like decayed parts.
The village came upon them like a reel of old film, showcasing some nostalgic time before the last glowing eye blinked upon the fresh world. The old figure tapped his walking stick, and pointedly veered it words the old village, where children were bathing nude with their mothers in the lagoon their ample young breast housing milk for the youngest of child, suckling as the spray of clear blue war wished their first follicles. They nuzzled their young to the life supporting mounds, as a warming embrace lit the children up, and nuzzled them back to content rest, burps of joy rang out like heavenly voices singing sonatas.
The old figure took no joy or shame in the figures, his lust long gone from the ancient bones, Urytz too no longer felt erroneous lust in the figures about him, for to him they were all just ashes waiting to be burnt. He had not remembered the last time he felt the touch of a mortal woman, but it was long before he recalled the change to this wretch of a being he was now. It was but lesser decaying matter leeching off older, more decayed matter. Just beings washing off old skin and dirty, furthering the process towards death, there was nothing but pity in the innocent scene of beauty, in the contemporary wisdom of what may be a painted masterpiece in the eyes of a greater artist.
The two retins of time snuck by slowly, and made their way into the village square, the bustling markets, and colonized tribes, all surviving until they too would join their ancestors in ash. Urytz envied them, he would never have the feeling of death lingering over his broad shoulders, able to swipe down all forms and ports, he outranked the reaper, and he hated it for being so. Urytz would see the th end of time, and likely survive it, sitting at the ends of the universe, what would be the last safehaven for life, and its ilk.
The villagers stared up in frozen awe, as the beastly Urytz lumbered by, unnoticed by those too busy pinching hay pennies, too busy counting eggs, even the hens themselves were a flutter with A trudging fright.
"Behold! You interlocking scum! Banishing me from the village, when I've done nothing but appease your frivously lusts with woman and wine! I who have kept the oldest of us young for so long! You adolescent ingrates have but turned the palm, and slapped my cheek, discarding me like some trifle trash! I have found the master of life itself! I have found the youthful myth that we all feared! Urytz! He is but some immortal that, oh; happens to be proof of perpetual youth! Yet you've driven me afar, isolad me. Onth's prior in some hotbox of suffering and torture! I shall exact revenge, and in-turn, I will grant this immortal soul death! For I know it must seek it, as you pathetic mongrels fear it so well, mock it even in your fresh skin, and bare bottoms! Allow me to show you what death looks like up close! Urytz! Attack these feeble-minded scum, these cretins of conservatism, and I'll grant you desth! Put them to sleep, and your slumber show follow, this I swear can be done! Now go!"
Urytz was not a moral best, killing was just a process to speed up the ashened form of what man becomes, the longer form, which makes it far more-important than some flesh and blood form. He had no qualms with murder, it was only mortals who feared death, he longed, and since he could not die, if almost seemd righteous enough to give generously to those who could never feel his pain. He slaughter the young, the old, and the in-between. Men, women, children, he so desperately wanted to die, that he wanted to make quick work. The viciousness of his slaughter was so quick and confident, it seemed to be more machine acting on orders, than animalistic mauling on instinct.
After it was done, he was covered in the blood of the mortal villagers, the old form cackling gratefully under his dirty shroud. He was thankful to the immortal, and beckoned him forward with a bony finger of ivory death. The bodies slain from the immortal hands of a near-god, strung out in pools of blood, the precision if murder almost like a factory, everything was sheer killing, perfect murder strewn throughout the world, allowing peonies to sprout forth from mangled meat. Urytz was a demon, a saint, and all-encompassing. He transcended the mortal realm, but even this was beginning to feel like more than even he would call necessary. The old figure cackled and crooned like a makeshift crow, leaning bountifully on the laurels of Urytz's labor.
"And now, my dear callous, you shall be wrought from underfoot, and driven into the heart of darkness, the fiendish pits of the most blackest deaths. Now you will bare witness to an ashened end! As promised! For the Reaper will have you now! He will have you indeed! " the figure removed his shroud, and the grey, near-white hair fell off with the clothing, a mangled, distorted body laid out, it was zombie-like, but the immortal knew what stood before him. It was Pestilence, the Dark King of Disease. He was sored about his rugged body, the ancient body creaked and crooked with buboes and rashes of all sorts.
"The fools here wanted to be pure and clean, and I've kept them so, I can bring forth illness, but it can just as well keep it at bay. Then they shoved me aside, saying I was too old, too disfigured to oive in this prefect little village on the edge of youth. I know now that this is all but a ploy to keep the younglings alive longer,mso they we're not vanquished at a certain age. Age, it is nothing to either of us, we are immortal, yet I'm a figure of timeless age, and you, well, you are but a human trapped in time, awaiting his end, a pleasant little plot to do all but plunder. Rest up, for I shall see your hour come soon enough! You've finished off this insignificant humans, I will only grant you solace in death week before the day's end."
"Urytz?" The immortal asked with a drawn out guttural groan.
"It's quite simple: I could've tried to kill them all with a disease, but as I've raised their immunities so high,mold age would be their only demise. Think of it like I've made them nearly-immortal, like yourself, but they could still bleed, and even the titanium of immunities cannot make up for the loss of blood. You've far exceeded my expectations, and I, being a figure before time, I am not allowed to partake in the slaughter of mortals. You, however, are more than welcome to killing anything that crosses your path, and I see that you kill with the efficiency of a sharpshooter!"
Urytz looked around at the killing ground, and saw what he had done, and he felt it was a bit too much, and a bit too upset to feel as immortal as he once had. Something was amiss. Then he saw what it was: Death, the grim reaper had been standing behind his brother, Pestillence, hallowed eyes glaring at him with no stop. Endless, as long as immortality was, Death was longer, it stared on forever, and there was no stopping it, therre was simply no end.
"Death, this h immortal has slaughtered all these innocent mortals! I daresay you should do something about it!"
Nonsense, this monstrous malcontent of a being has done nothing wrong! I know it was you who wanted to see the forbearing of their death, their plight was but only with you, this dog was just your instrument of destruction. Do you not think I would have known to assist in the immortals to do my bidding? If not, you would have known that this attempt is moot! You are my brother! You are my ally in this battle! But Pest, you are wrong, and Uryk, you are still immortal! Brother! Come now, for you will be judged in the malebolge, the center of time! May God have mercy on your immortal soul! Death spoke without speaking, and the two entities vanished from the earth, leaving Urytz with nothing but pain, something he had not felt in what seemed like eons.
He cried, he thought his tear ducts had seized forever ago, and forever ago seemed to pour from out his pain, the frustration tearing him apart, as he punched and kicked at his cursed self. "Urytz!" It was all he could scream.
Years went by again, as the giant figure lumbered back up towards the mountains, never disturbed again. The world went on, it changed, the hills shrank, humankind expanded, cities rose from small villages, metal became man's folly,invading the skies, and plunging through the oocean's depths. In the background was Urytz, in the end, there was Urytz, and foreve after there was nothing but Urytz, no one special....just some immortal.
Thank you so very much for reading the Malacast Editorial. I've been busy, with personal family issues, and as wel all know, family should always come first, but being the writer thwt I am, I always feel like I'm losing if I don't write, like I'm failing myself. I hate how I missed a whole week of a Short Story Weekly, and I barely am getting this one up in time. I know that this isu charteriwtic for me, because I've only went one month without posting a story, and for those thwt have been waiting for the end of this story for nearly two weeks now. But I'm happy with the ending, I wrote it furiously over several nights, and although it isn't as long as I orignally intended it to be, I've enjoyed this particular story. Granted, I've been writing short stories now for so long, they could be nearly a quarter of the posts.
By the end of October, which is closer than I'm sure any of us would like to think, I'll have written enough short a stories that I could fill 2 portfolios with, and then some. Next week, I'll be doing a sorta sequel to the story: Heir to Confusion, and although it is not a true sequel in the sense that it progresses right after, it will be a story that is both similar in-that it follows the same cast of characters, but is also a unique tale all on its own. Reguardless, I'll be certain to have this up before the end of this upcoming week, and I will try my very best not to miss another week.
Again, thank you for the avid support, and I am sincerely sorry that I've missed a week, nearly two! For now, thank you for reading the Malacast Editorial, be sure to follow me on twitter @mcasteditorial, and have a great morning/day/night, wherever you are!
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