Tree of Grief

The taste of blood is pulchritudinous, thoroughly beautiful. The charisma of its color in itself being an addictive quality. The temptation to feast on blood, its warm, perpetual qualities enticing my nose. To hold the fate of another in the palm of my hands; to possess the potency to engender, to eradicate! To rule over some things' being - their life and their subsistence. To cripple their limbs and destroy their mind. To devour their soul and glom their essence, their accumulation of erudition, of power: to culminate and destroy their perception of time forever!

Just imagining that makes me drool. What a shame there is nothing left..

…

Standing tall was a tree. It was a normal tree. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Except, no trees circumvented it. And, on this tree, were inscribed a plethora of notes. Notes of a man lost to the wheel of time, a man now unstable in his emotions, one isolated from humanity. This person sat still in front of the tree, mutely contemplating something; ostensibly staring out into nowhere. He persistently gazed at the notes that had been inscribed for millennia', trickled with a multitude of parts now evanescent, washed away along with the tide of history, in which he could not even recall inscribing: mere traces of scribbles yet to expire. They read:

…

[...10 years.]

-HAHA Dammit...what's this bullshit place? Will I ever leave here? It's been 10 years already... these monsters will kill me before I'm even rescued.

[...50 years.]

-Save me... So..m...ne, save me...

.... mum..?...

[200 years.]

-how did my family look like again? this is too much... it's pointless. why am i here in the first place? was my previous life just an illusion?

[1000 years.]

NO! WHY! WHY ARE YOU NOT LETTING MY KILL MYSELF! WHY! WHY!

..

[....will.... .. .. ....]

[2000 years]

-i've stopped counting. For what reason did I care so much? Life is pointless, meaningless. Time too, it will keep on passing, it doesn't care for whether I exist or not... there's no point.... how long has it been now...? 500? no, maybe 600 years?..ha..

[? years]

-Yes....??.Ea...??.N..D?...???..??...?.???

[? years]

-Hm, they're all dead? Ah, how easy that was.

I smile as I lick the scintillating paint off my blade. The mystique of its grand taste riddles the preceptors in my tongue. Blood is an amazing thing. It is the essence of one's life and that which emerges when it is destroyed. A cycle of nature; with blood as the origin. I laugh maniacally, savoring the superb quality of this monsters' life force. My brain is high on its temptation, at a state beyond mere happiness. I'll have to remember this one: those triple-horned dragons are the real deal.

I randomly remember as to why, in the first place, I am here. The mere memory pisses me off. Aah, when can I leave...? Perhaps I will stay here forever. I contemplate upon my idiocy for not listening to ... -wait, who was it I didn't listen to again...?