01-14-2008, 05:06 PM
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indent It would not startle Gabriel to hear that his siblings took delight pain and were born sadists. It would not startle him if they turned on one another and cut their family down. He was indifferent to them, in that respect, and would remain so because that was how he had to treat them. This he had seen with his own siblings, and he had learned not to care. As long as he could rise above the carnage at the end of the world, nothing would matter but that. Selfish, this thought was, but he had long ago disconnected himself from the family that fell apart at the seams.
indent For now though, Gabriel was dreaming. It was the sort of thing that came often, the same dream that was always with him. The day of his brother’s murder. So in that nightmare he ran, he stumbled, and he was drowning in blood as his brother screamed and cried and begged for help. Guilt was a complex all Catholics carry well. Still, though, his dreams did not leave him screaming as he woke. No, there was nothing to show he was dreaming of that thing. Pushing himself up from the bed, he brushed his hair from his face and moved down the steps and onto the porch. And constantly, like the nightmares, he was breathing in smoke again.
indent It would not startle Gabriel to hear that his siblings took delight pain and were born sadists. It would not startle him if they turned on one another and cut their family down. He was indifferent to them, in that respect, and would remain so because that was how he had to treat them. This he had seen with his own siblings, and he had learned not to care. As long as he could rise above the carnage at the end of the world, nothing would matter but that. Selfish, this thought was, but he had long ago disconnected himself from the family that fell apart at the seams.
indent For now though, Gabriel was dreaming. It was the sort of thing that came often, the same dream that was always with him. The day of his brother’s murder. So in that nightmare he ran, he stumbled, and he was drowning in blood as his brother screamed and cried and begged for help. Guilt was a complex all Catholics carry well. Still, though, his dreams did not leave him screaming as he woke. No, there was nothing to show he was dreaming of that thing. Pushing himself up from the bed, he brushed his hair from his face and moved down the steps and onto the porch. And constantly, like the nightmares, he was breathing in smoke again.