To Defy Fate (Open)

[Seven]

30th Winter, 210 AV

Fate, what a laugh, people think that fate plans for all, is all knowing, and controls our every moves. Some think Fate is unbeatable, undeniable, and always a winner. The force plans for all, even the death of gods, and eventually the end of time, but there are those who would defy fate, and go against its plan. Fate isn’t flawless, and there ripples in the grand plan. One of those being the existence of ghosts, those who refuse to move on, those who will their life, their unhampered existence to go on, and through sheer force of will they roam the land. They can defy fate, and make their own plan. They are free from reincarnation and they are free from their bondage, their prison. That, or so they think, so they believe, is it foolish to think that one has the power to defy fate?

The ghost wandered endlessly in this new place. The people, the living, were just as much of a pain as in all other place. His thoughts only on their extermination and his rise to power, one day he will be known, be a force to be reckoned with, he will be feared, and though that he will be respected. He will have his kingdom, and his people will be the other ghosts, the other ones who defy fate. One day, he will be home and all that could stop him would be defeated. All those against him will fall, but… That day was so far away. Right now he was weak. Right now he needed to focus on the smaller goals to get to the big picture. An artist doesn’t just paint a picture with one brush stroke. No, it takes hundreds, thousands, and depending on just how big the picture is countless strokes. He was an artist. In his mind what he plans to do is art, is perfection, and is the embodiment of the ghostly condition that he is.

One of his goals was to regain his lost power, and that one was on the top of his list. Among others are to gain other ghostly followers and maybe even some living support. Though above them all is to acquire wealth, money, to which he will use to control the living. Everyone has a price, and he would need the power of money soon enough. Money is ultimate power in this world, or so believed the ghost.

Lost power… The thought of the skills that time and the living stole from him made him even angrier. Soon they, all of them, will get what they ordered. Sure, it would be a little late, but better late than never. He needed to practice to get better, and right now, he looked around and spied a pebble on the ground, that would have to do. He didn’t care there were people around, all of them were below him in his opinion. He walked up to the rock and bent down to touch it with his hand. One touch was good enough for him to begin to try to lift it.

He concentrated on the stone, still bent over touching it, trying to will it to lift. He was very much so out of practice. The rock, after a couple of minutes, began to shake and quiver as it began to lift. Starting to straighten back up the stone followed his hand, but dropped to the ground shortly after rising only a couple of feet. He would let out a rather angry growl as the stone fell and tried again. He bent down and touched the stone. This time hooking it with even more soulmist and lifted it again. It again rose like two feet and dropped to the ground again.

Taking a step back he looked angrily at the stone that refused to do what he wanted. Yes, its going to be a long time before his dream comes true, becomes a reality. He took a ‘deep breath’, if he could breathe, and tried to use his thoughts to calm himself. He just couldn’t believe the feeble condition that he was in, that was his current state. He had to be the weakest of the ghosts. He decided that he would try one more time at lifting the rock after taking a minute or two collecting himself. Right now all that mattered, all that was in his reality was him and the stone. All other things, all other noises, all other people weren’t there in his mind. He was going to do it this time.

He bent down once again, third time is the charm, and touched the rock, oh how far he fell. Feeling the connection with the stone he began to straighten up again. Slowly, the rock shook, quivered, and began to rise. He smiled as he was sure this was going to work this time, but as he thought that the rock dropped back to the ground. That was the last straw. In a fit of rage he reached for the stone and ‘grasped’ it in his hand and picked it up and threw the dumb thing, though it didn’t fly far. It was only when he saw the stone fly he realized what he had done. He had done what he sought out to do. Maybe he wasn’t such a lost cause after all.

With that he floated on his way mentally patting himself on the back for his accomplishment. Things were going to work out, he knew it. He could do whatever he wanted, and soon no one would be able to stop him. That thought made him happy, that his revenge on all the living would be accomplished. Even though it was just a dream right now, all dreams have the potential to come true.