My Words With The End.
My Words With The End.
I know this is a good bit different then my usual story, but I hope it still gets read at least once or twice with the 'No-Yiff' tag. I broke my golden rule, but yiff really wouldn't be appropriate in a story such as this one, so I kept it out. It's based on a lucid dream I had a week or two ago, and I think it came out nicely. Leave a comment if you hate it, love it, or don't feel strongly at all. Feedback is all I get for posting stories here.
This story is copyrighted and cannot be redistributed or used without my permission. If you want to use it, just toss me an email or message through yiffstar so we can discuss.
Written by: Gerik Shark
The biggest of big, the deepest of deep,
The largest well from which oil will seep.
The last find in years, a discovery so rare,
Our energy crisis averted by the width of a hair.
My job is to drill it, to pump until dry,
To force the crude held beneath to spray to the sky.
This land may be secluded and completely depleted,
But the fluid held beneath must be excreted.
A voice suddenly calls to me, the source I cannot see,
But the reverberations are constant and chilling indeed.
I search for this creature that calls out to me,
Touching my very soul with its grief-stricken plea.
I cannot understand, my heart vibrates unclear,
So I follow the words to the source without fear.
Approaching the pipe we pump on the morrow,
The voice beckons from below and shows deep sorrow.
Without warning or justice, the voice gives a sharp tug,
My body pulled downwards through the hole just dug.
Limbs flail freely while I fall down through slime,
My form not stopping until I'm submerged in the grime.
The crude is thick; its stench encompassing my remains,
It's warmth surrounding me like thick, steel chains.
I am not dead, but I am not alive,
My consciousness prevails, and my spirit thrives.
I can feel the voice approaching, its tone growing deep,
The reverberations shake my form lying crumpled in a heap.
The presence of a dragon with might unmatched appears,
And the voice is felt clearly, allowing me to hear.
"I am The End, a bearer of truth,
My body is broken, but my message still lies in youth."
The dragon draws near, his form merely bones,
But the aura and power are still clearly his own.
"I speak of my culture and of my past,
The land and dragons of Those That Were Last.
We were once powerful and civilized, the rulers of all,
But pride led to undoing and was the cause of our fall."
"Our kind once lived for power and greed,
Commonly mistaking our wants for our needs.
Our hearts and lands poisoned with each drop of oil consumed,
It was not long before both were completely ruined."
The End's words hit hard and made my hands turn to fists,
Touching guilt deep down that everyone knows exists.
I open my mouth to retort but my voice no longer sounds,
My body a mere heap far beneath the ground.
Forced to listen and comprehend The End's words,
My pride can't fight and my mind doesn't draw swords.
His story continues, a sad song from years past,
Unveiling the fate of Those That Were Last.
"My brethren gave warning, showing you signs,
But your kind have ignored them and continued to refine.
Consuming my brothers and burning them for fuel,
Their fate will be your own, simply turned to a tool."
"Noxious emissions and wars without end,
There is no warning which you can comprehend.
We made it quite clear what was to come,
But time is running short, and like me you will become."
"The process is cyclic; your time is ending soon,
When only the animals shall gaze upon the moon.
Once I am gone, there's no turning back,
The damage will be done and your kind will turn black."
"Flesh turns to crude, your bones end in dust,
Seeping down beneath the surface to replace what was lost.
The surface then heals, replacing its beauty,
Unhindered by you while completing its duty."
"A dominant species will then rise,
The need for power burning in their eyes,
They will find you and use you as you've done to us,
It will be well deserved, but in this I digress."
"I plan to fight it, to end this sad tale,
But for this I need you as a source for my scales.
Your body will hold me so that I may speak,
Showing the power of the strong to the weak."
I cannot reply or stop the large drake,
His boned paws wrapping me in cloth while my body shakes.
I wait and I watch helplessly while the crude seeps into me,
The consumption of my form a small taste of what was to be.
There is no pain and I remain calm,
The oil seeming a strange, soothing balm.
The power of the dragon slowly enters my veins,
Giving life to the ancient soul once dead and detained.
I bask in his power, a mighty soul indeed,
Having no pride or wants to impede.
One with the drake, I am alive and I am free,
My soul finally learning when not allowed to flee.
The timing is perfect, the soul's transfer complete,
Right as the large pipe begins to pull at my feet.
My body is pumped quickly up towards my kind,
My heart having sudden distaste for those that are blind.
The burning hatred for the destroyers of this world,
Builds in my veins and boils while towards them I'm hurled.
The pressure inside builds until the cloth binding me is ripped,
The dragon's power unleashing as we leave the dark crypt.
My body transforms, a dragon of crude appearing,
Standing over the destroyed pipe and the largest tower clearing.
Those Which Will Be Lost simply stare in disbelief,
As the dragon's head lifts and a loud roar echoes his grief.
No words can describe the guilt and the shame,
Forced into the hearts of everyone to blame.
They knew they were wrong, they knew all along,
But it was impossible to hide with such a sad song.
The entire world's hearts sank in the blink of an eye,
Saddened by a loud roar that no mortal could defy.
My heart lifted at the sight of their sadness,
Hoping they'd realize the destruction caused by their madness.
Angered by their guilt and feeling hatred for the creature,
The pump's broken pipe was turned and forced onto the preacher.
The message was clear, it had gotten through,
But the lusts of the weak blinded that which was true.
The brilliant creature turned and was enraged with disbelief,
Now not wanting to save Those Which Would Be Lost and offer relief.
We simply stood still and watched as they pumped the dragon's flesh away,
Pulling the oil into the pump to be consumed in the fray.
I felt the power being pulled from my bones,
Losing the creature's spirit so much stronger then my own.
In mere minutes the dragon was pumped dry,
Leaving me laying on the ground after feeling so high.
Covered in remnants of the drake's oil,
I could not move even with extended toil.
With the dragon gone and only his message to bear,
It becomes clear that I must hide in a secluded place so rare.
With what is to come, with how the end draws near,
Only the truth must survive for the next species to hear.
Cleaned of the dragon's remains so that I may stand,
I began my journey to a faraway land.
Maybe The Next will have a chance at survival,
Perhaps their culture will have no rival.
I will become The End of The Last,
The only one able to speak of Those Who Were Last.
My species has been lost, our weakness has sealed our fate,
Now all that's left is to lie and to wait...