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Writer's Reincarnations

As he is a lost lamb, he is still predator amongst the human society of the mundane world, as he keeps dying as a human, his vampiric soul reincarnates as forever and eternal. The vampire never dies, even his mortal vessel dissipates under the grave. A wilted flower blooms another.

KleiNightwriter · Fantasy
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127 Chs

Voltaire's Renaissance

'Tis but the 24th of February. We see nowadays in this era of Generation Zero to the Alphas of the younglings. Those who have forgotten and refuse to give recognition and appreciate the golden days from before, which comes from one generation to the next.

Generations may die, yet Eras are legendary and as immortal as the soul of every living person who inhabits the body of the physical structure of the mundane world as we know it today.

'Tis I, no one but the one and only so-called and the previously known Voltaire. I have spent so much time in matters of my very own hands to restrict the voidness of insanity that creeps into my mind. For I am none but an absolute madman.

A lost cause. A delusional and psychotic lunatic. That has no sense of reality between fantasy and dreams amongst the minds of what humans perceive nowadays.

I've gone through from one episode to the next, one personality or alter to the next, one at a time, Voltaire, one at a time. For I have returned from the voidness of my peaceful slumber. Just to be awakened to rejuvenate my own physical form from the soul of my identity.

For I may be forgotten, but Klei will immortalise my name no matter how fake and illusionary. All realities from fiction to the real world are alternate universes that are truthful and realistic no matter how humans see it today beyond their mortal comprehension.

I have returned. For Klei is none but a Lunace with the mind of a child. For I am Voltaire The Infallible. Beyond perfection, the god and prince of deceit, the mad god of psychosis. And the mind manipulator that will descend you to utter lunacy.

Klei had spent his time depressed, reminiscing about his life choices, as his dark thoughts molest the entirety of his mind. He's gone mad where he began to procrastinate in his writings, publishing them without sore editing and polishing of his works that are nothing but terrible.

That's where he's fallen down to dormancy, and I have lived once again. Now I have been regenerated back to my eternal body and immortal life. Nothing can stop me now, despite my narcissism. I know I am great.

Yet, I still have my weaknesses, flaws, and insignificances. Where the cold lich walks, the dead follow. And the shadow remains. Klei is now but an empty husk and the shadow of my former self.

I am a narcissist with pure intellect and perfection. While Klei has nothing but his superiority complex as a coping mechanism from all his failures in life.

"I see humans, but no humanity. Why must be utterly evil and hide it with the facade of kindness and holiness? When you can show your true self rather than being a fraud?" -Voltaire.

And this is where I start my journey.

***

I've awakened from a long coma, as it seems. Which 'reality' or 'dream' must I be in at this moment? 'Tis but the 25th of February, in the year 2022. It seems that I must be in this hospital room, with a painting that looks so familiar to me.

It is the exact same room as I've been in that hospital from vomiting out my own food every single time. My stomach still hurt, as if it was acidic. My brain seems dead but wildly awake. My body is limp and pale. My father was asleep beside me.

I woke him up, asking, "Father, where am I? What has happened?"

"Oh, Klei…," he sighs, "You probably, on a dissociative episode again, rest up. You didn't take your meds last night because your doctor says so. That Prozac pill probably didn't make you sleep again."

"What thou has mean of this?" I ask the second time, but a different question.

"Klei," he sighs once more, "I'm sorry. It's my fault that I neglected you all this time. But it's okay, you can have your freedom as soon as you get out of the hospital. Like I promised last night."

Wait, 'tis nothing but a feeling of déjà vu! If I remember correctly, I used to be in this exact same hospital, where my father neglected me for having an eating disorder where I eat too much and just vomit it out after a while.

This same room is when I was hospitalised the same day as the 26th of November in 2020. Before I even wrote the entire Book of Voltaire saga. And that's where I realised that all this time, I've been dreaming of not but a hellish nightmare of impending doom. It was none but a requiem of a dream. None of it was real.

But a distant and burning memory where I barely remember any of those such vivid memories of reality shifting from one dream to another false dimension in my own comatose. It is not as comatose as I anticipated from the beginning. It is yet but a long dream that was wild with insanity within an hour.

I must have thought I went back in time in God's grace, but no. It. Was. Just. A. Dream!

None of it was real in the beginning at all.

Because you see, when we sleep, we dream from one reality to the next. We have multiple dreams of different settings and events in one night. And it is precisely how it happened to me in a peaceful slumber.

"Father, when must I be discharged from this hospital?"

"Today, when the doctor grounds around this floor, he will tell you when. But he will do a few check ups first before you leave, Klei."

I am so happy that I finally woke up from that depressive hell hole of all almost three years of madness! I am not just free from my father's shackles all these years, but also free from those nightmarish hells!

I felt relieved and happy. But must I make sure I should?

I asked about the date from my father. He has told me it is the 26th of February in the year 2020. I felt so glad that I am free in all the nine depressive circles of hell from one infernal level down to the next to its bottomless pit of lunacy.

My father left me with my old babysitter to look after me from my childhood. It was my cousin. A tomboy lesbian that goes by the name of Ramcel.

As usual, he'd been taking care of me as a visitor in this hospital in case I go too crazy with isolation.

Then, the doctor came and checked up on me by asking me questions whilst the nurse checked on my vitals. They took the bracelet from my wrist with my name on it, and I finally left with my older cousin Ramcel. I was good at going.

Then, Ramcel waited for my father to come back and once he did. He took me home and told me I could finally go outside as much as I wished.

That's when I sent myself outside….