[Literature (since LIT is Art)] Knightmare Overdose

So I've been working on and off (during my free time) on a story that I am currently calling Knightmare Overdose and I want to post the Public (Deviantart) introduction to see if anyone here wouldn't mind posting some constructive criticism in regards to it. Obvious grammar mistakes, any run-on sentences, and anything that may come off as an inconsistency in the plot.

The story is an action/adventure, dark, fantasy, horror, drama story that takes many different culture's mythological stories and places them in one setting. Some may argue it's a story about religion, but that's not necessarily true...to say the .least.

Spoiler

Hell; you only hear about it in books. Stories from a time so very, very long ago. Times so long ago that you may think that they are just mere fantasy. You never once think about the actual evil that surrounds the idea of Hell, nor the actual place.


Kids don't fear it and adults forget about it. What with constant work and drama to feed yourself, your family, and to pay the bills on time. No one ever thinks about it. Till they actually see it. I once was a regular person. Birth, childhood, friends, mother and father, I had it all, too. Until that day came. That day that I was staring down into the abysmal eye of Hell.


I was playing just like any normal 10 year old boy my age would do, at least. Playing with my friends in the backyard. While my family was planning my birthday surprise. I acted as if I didn't know about it. Acted as if I didn't know what was going on. I would be lead off into the shed, as if they were to lock me up in there.

What with them trying to make me think it isn't my birthday. To place in my mind, fear; enough fear to forget. They knew that I was scared of this place. Every year, I'd wait. I'd wait till my dad came back and got me out, to be lead into the living-room, where everyone would jump up and yell out "surprise" at the top of their lungs. Back then, I cared not for it. Not one bit. To me, it was an just a damn annoyance. It was just any normal day to me. A day that I got older. Nothing more and nothing less than just that.


But this year, this year was different. They put me in the shed, like normal. I then waited like I normally do, then all of a sudden I heard screaming. Not anything that sounded like screams of happiness. It sounded like screams of torture and pain, like on those old grind house horror flicks. Where they over acted and unnatural amounts of blood would gush out. I started to panic, for I am claustrophobic. It wasn't the screaming that had gotten me to freak out. It was being in that small room for so long.


I tried to get out, but they hadn't come to unlock the shed door for me yet. That was the first sign that something was wrong. Then 10 minutes later, I heard something unusual. Something so strange. The sound of meat or something being chewed, so I figured that they were playing a trick on me and started my party without me. So I started to yell and curse for them to get me the Hell out of here.

I began to kick and punch, and push upon that shed door. As soon as I had done so, I felt a sharp pain in my right hand. It happened so fast, that I thought I pulled a muscle, until I saw some blood, and a long..sword like claw sticking through my hand. I still hadn't understood what happened until after it was all over. When it was too late to do anything. The claw started to bend, as if it were a finger closing, to make a fist. Then out of nowhere it pulled back and took off the shed door, along with my arm and hand, with it, right out of the socket.


I was in immense pain. So strong of pain that I could barely see or hear, or even think correctly. What I saw before I passed out, I thought was a demon. You couldn't make this shit up so easily. This demon had 4 arms, and one had a claw where his hand should have been. It was his right hand. Thinking back on it now, it may have been an ironic twist of fate. When I came-to, I was in a strange world. A world most of you had forgotten about, or thought was just a fantasy. The world was Hell, and I....I was dead.


Years have passed since that horrid incident. You know how time passes, flows, so easily down the stream of life? In Hell, time only stands still and you basically relive your fears, over and over again.So imagine a clock and the numbers upon that clock are your fears, and you're the hands upon the clock, and it keeps getting worse and worse, as the hands progress. Once it reaches the final, last, worst fear of all, it resets and continues; back at your first fear. Knowing what you're going to get, but not being able to change anything about it, is the final fear that Hell can bestow upon the souls trapped down in here. The odd thing is, I am not reliving any fears.


I am here watching other people's fears. Viewing what they had done to deserve this Hell. I have no idea as to why I am able to move about so freely. Is it because I had done no wrong, only because of my age? Is it because this is actually my fear? Being able to see others before my presence, being tortured, yet not being able to do anything about it? I hadn't any type of idea of the reasons for this ordeal. Until I met a man. This man was staked deep down inside the ground. Chains wrapped about his being, ripping him about if he tried to move around so much as to scratch an itch, while I was walking around, viewing this Hell that I had found myself in.

Then out of nowhere I hear this old voice. A fading, pain filled voice of an older man. He was stating that "Hell is what you make yourself into, and your fears are the locks, on the chains of your soul." I don't know why he was saying this to me. Maybe he constantly says this out loud, someone there to listen to him or not, to reassure himself. That he knows what he did. I let myself believe that until he had called out for me directly. He mentioned to me about how "We tend to get a few 'clean' souls down in here, that are here more-so as being on a field trip, so to speak." and that I am the chosen one. The chosen one who will deliver the damned souls to Hell.


I kept talking to that man. That man seemed to know more about who I am, than I did of myself. He mentioned how his only fears, is the fear of not being able to escape. The reasons for the chains made more sense to me now. The chains bore down hard, deep into his skin. Which made sense, that if you only want to escape, and cannot, because one reason being that you're hurt, then it causes quite a problem.


I spent years talking to this old man. He talked about many things, but, one thing that stuck out more than anything, was how he kept referring to me as the 'key' to Hell. I asked him why he kept calling me this 'key' to Hell. I asked him why he knows so much about me, and how come I ended up here, and he exclaimed that "You were marked. Marked before you were even born. Marked with the blood of the sins of Hell. You are the new Angel of Death. One that serves only Hell." and yet I didn't want to believe this. That I would become a hound for Hell.


The bringer of death, to those needing judgment; for them to be washed away in the lakes of the hellfire. Where they are to be taken, to face the final judgment. To face their fears, forever. Thinking back on this whole ordeal, now, I think that was pretty stupid of me. I can avenge the people being hurt. To always avenge the fallen, at the hands of those evil bastards of the world, that caused those poor soul's demise. I have the power to make a difference. To influence how the world will work. To change it into what I'd like for it to be. Though I shouldn't let others know of me, for they may try to turn me in for the murders of so many people. I am the shadows of Hell. The being not seen, but heard of. The talk of the world, and nothing more. I'm the "Akuma" of life and death, my life being a dark void, that holds onto the souls of the damned.




Chapter 1 - Sins of the Father




The Sins of the parents are passed on to their children. This meaning that no soul is clean, and that I have no room in my heart to spare anyone. Man, woman or child. What with my job being to deliver the damned down into Hell, and none being clean, I have my work cut out for me. No matter what type of person that I truly am, I have to take all of the damned down into the pits of Hell. I know Hades has some fucked up plan for Earth if I am told to get every single damned soul. My first one that was delivered wasn't too easy of a job. It was one of my best friends. His father was a man who was a leader in the Mafia. One day he decided that he was tired of having to go through a middle man in order to get his fair cut of the profits. So one night he called all of the leaders of the Mafia in his area, for a meeting. This wasn't just any normal meeting. It was a trap. He planned on killing all of these leaders and taking over their positions in the Mafia. He planned on joining all of the sections into one whole group, while taking all of the profits they gain, for himself.


So when they all got comfortable, some food was brought out. This food was filled with analgesic medication; this was to give them a high, where they wouldn't even notice the gas filling up the room. The gas was made to eat away at the victim's skin and work its way inward. This is to cause the victim to go through the worst pain as it continues. Well because of all of this, all of it done just because he wanted to get more money, God placed upon his very soul, the sin of Greed. Thus meaning my best friend had Greed placed upon his as well. I didn't want to kill my best friend, but because I had no other choice, I went along with it. He didn't know what hit him. All that he knew, was a sword pierced his heart, and he was thrown into the Shadows, to be pulled into the pits of Hell. Along with him, my neighbor and her two children were to be next. Their mother was paid for sex. She was a whore, lusting out for men as well as for their money. This makes her have 2 sins upon her soul; Lust and Greed, and as such the children are given the sins, as well.

Each soul that I harvest for Hell, always is a sinned one. It gets me wondering from time to time, about what I'm doing. If basically everyone is sinned, then it means I must take everyone. Thus meaning I'm helping no one. But at the same time, if I take out the sinners, I am helping the life cycle, by ridding them of those unwanted pests. What does this say about me, as well? My father was an alcoholic. He would drink, and gamble his worries away, and would beat upon my mother when he came back out of his little "dream world" of his. A world filled with no worries, and where happiness reigned supreme. I knew he was a nut, and a moron to boot. Don't get me wrong. I loved my family, as any child does due to some connection. I didn't ask for this connection. I didn't want it. I wanted to be able to look him, my father, in his eyes and know for a fact that he was a horrible man. Though instead, when I looked him in his eyes, all I saw was my father. Not the man he was. But the man I wanted, created by this blood connection. I never forgave my parents, for forcing this connection upon me. If it were not for that, I could have easily told my father what I thought about him.


My mother was negligent for most of her days. They only acted like a family when it was my birthday. As if they owe me some sort of gratification for all the shit piled into my hopeless existence known as my life. I wasn't close to my family, in a sense of knowing them, as they were the same towards me. My father, every day, would go out into the Garage and he'd start working on little things; vacuums, microwaves, lawnmowers, televisions and so on and so forth. Reason being for this, isn't because he enjoys it, but really only because he wishes to get away from us all. If you're wondering where I'm getting at with all of this, then I'll tell you.


All of this abuse, physical and mental, put me in a state of doing things, anything, to show that I was in control. This mainly consisted of myself, a magnifying glass and an anthill. I would sit up-top of those ants, feeling so high and mighty. Knowing that there is only but time protecting them from my wrath. Time that I controlled by either holding off, or going straight for the kill. This may be one other reason for my powers; for my fate. A funny thing, fate is. You can go down any path you choose, but it'll always lead to the same destination in the end. But, what that old man said, was that I was marked before birth. So I didn't have any sins passed on from my parents at the time. There is something not told to me. Something about my future, planned out.


It is 2013, and all of the evil on Earth is slowly yet surely vanishing. Hades' Infantry is being pushed back into the Dragon's Gate. Jehovah's Air Fleet flies overhead, bombing the enemy with the Wakinyan Tanka's lightning, sealed within the divine arrows; forged with the blood of all of the Gods. Jehovah's Infantry is led by the God of War, Ares, and Athena, Goddess of wisdom, warfare, and strategy. With Hades' forces being pushed back, it is only a short time until they are driven back into the pits of Hell. But Hades isn't going out so easily. Not without one last act of defiance.

Many years earlier he had trapped Chronos, the God of Time, within a stone that held the powers to slow down time itself. Keeping Chronos from being able to escape, he is planning on going back into time, 36 years to be exact, to place a seal upon a man and woman who shall be wed. This seal is to lock certain powers into them until they give birth to a male child fit to harness the powers of Darkness, and to be unlocked at the age of 10.

The Sun shall rise, the Sun shall fall. That sort of schedule is the same, even for live beings.

They live, they die. There isn't anything anyone can do about it. One day, he too, shall die. But before that day comes, he is the medium between life and death. But no matter what he does, in the name of God, he is still working for Hades, and thus shall never be allowed entry into the Heavens.





The Spiraling Madness





Chapter 2





Part 1







"The darkness, the wind. It's setting the mood for a dreadful night. I'm not so sure, as to why I'm even doing this anymore. My doubts are growing more and more wild with each passing night." thought Akuma, whilst standing alone, atop of an old building, during which the darkness began developing around him. The sign of an upcoming threat grew near, as he awaited to confront the demon which plans to destroy the town and all that is his job to do away with, himself. He pretty much knew that he can't possibly do good, if all he does is kill. But he owes Hades' his gratitude, for giving him the power to fight back. He doesn't know why Hades' helped him, nor the reasoning towards granting him the ability to take souls.

"Here it comes!" he exclaims, as the demon manifests itself. "You sure took your time, bub. I hate to wait. As I'm pretty sure your boss has already mentioned this to you." stated calmly, by Akuma. The demon just stared him down. No words, nothing. "So, a silent one? We've got to beat some sense into you, so you can learn your place." The Demon still stared at him, and he wasn't sure what was up with this one. Whether he was sent to him or he found a way out of Hell, all by accident, and was stupid. But that mattered not. He would still have to dispose of the creature, no matter of the intentions it held.

"Well, count your blessings, Demon. You're gonna wish you hadn't ventured forth into my domain!" The demon still only stared Akuma down. So he went for the kill, and as soon as he pulled out his blade, the Demon was gone. Not even a glimpse of where it went was noticed. The Demon was just gone. "W-where the Hell did it go? I can't even sense it's dark pressure anywhere, not like when it first appeared."

The stench that the Demon emitted before was gone. It was as if it was never there to begin with. Akuma was confused at this point as he has never encountered such a demon, before. So he began to let his guard down, and the moment that he did, he was hit hard by some force. It was made clear to him now that the demon's power was that of hiding.

"This demon, must be hiding in a pocket dimension, somewhere. One that it can still interact with things outside of that pocket."Akuma, was partially correct. The demon was in a dimension. But not that of a pocket one. It became it's own dimension, created by it's own powers. The demon can become one, instantly with it's surroundings. Thus being able to alter them and itself. May that be physical or otherwise.

 

More to come but it's too big and I wish not to double post large portions.

 

Interesting storyline! I would have to suggest trimming the fat off it. I feel like there is too many useless sentences, and not enough to make the story seem appealing, and it didn't really hook me in.

 

When you're aiming to have it illustrated it has to have that fat on it. Hell my avatar is a concept piece from this very story.

 

No, I meant that you rephrased the same sentence sometimes. I felt that it was unnecessary. You could always talk to the illustrator about the way you want the scenes portrayed, but as for the actual story, it just takes up space. I still loved it though, it reads awesome.

 

Thanks, and I'm fairly certain I'll hook you into it the actual story itself sooner or later, since it's a huge story with enough hopefully well built content and over all world.

 

I really like its story so far, hope you post more.