The war of the immortals, short story.

I just finished this short story I was working on. The interesting thing is, the story changed completely. Originally it was about anti-depressants and psychology, not war. It's not dialogue heavy, it's told more like a mythos. I'd like to know what you think.

The war of the immortals

By Kadath Bird

Part 1: The sentient natures

"The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself." -Franklin D. Roosevelt

There are many forces in this world we don't understand; in fact,
we've barely scratched the surface of understanding anything. We
understand gravity, we understand [for the most part] physics; but
name a force of nature that is sentient that you can claim
understanding of? This is where religion comes into play. And I
won't stop you from believing in your religion, but I will say
outright that none of them have TIB. TIB is simply the most powerful
of our natures agents. War, greed, any of those are nothing more than
big pussies compared to TIB. War may bring forth genocide, greed may
stain the heart and make a man tyrannous [as well as supporting the
war effort] but TIB will create wars inside the head, TIB will
greedily snatch your soul and use it as toilet paper. Simply put, TIB
is insanity in it's purest form.

Insanity is not a state of mind, Insanity is a living, breathing thing.
Contrary to what many people think, insanity is not bleak.
Insanity is not grim or saddening. Insanity is bliss. As mentioned
before, we do not understand Insanity [or as he prefers to be called:
TIB] and therefore we are afraid of it. Echoes of our fear for
insanity are everywhere; the child disturbed by Alice in wonderland;
the common fear of marionettes and their disturbing caricature of
ourselves. The only form of insanity we don't fear is in our
children. We want our children to be happy. Insanity is with us when
we are born, it becomes our surrogate mother throughout childhood and
leaves us as soon as we understand the meaning of good and evil. When
you see a child running around, playing and laughing, it makes us
happy; and this is Insanity at work.

Of all our natures, the 3 most powerful are Insanity, Fear, and
Depression. These natures are neither good or evil, but this does not
mean they live in equilibrium. They are always at war. Fear keeps us
level-headed and away from danger; it also makes us stupid.
Depression hides us from our fears, and gives us fear of Insanity.
Insanity keeps us happy, but it clouds or vision, leading us into
trouble, and destroys our judgment, making us stupid and vulnerable.
They are all invisible to our eyes and our thoughts, but at the same
time clear and present. When they do their job from a distance, they
are invisible and only helping our lives. But once our soul is
stained, they come in for the kill and fight until one takes over the

Part 2: The man in the red suit

"The Patients on the drug have become,
'inappropriately happy"-Jean-Francois Buisson

The town of Farrio was not a good place to live in the 50's, nor
would it ever be. It needs no introduction, you may not have heard of
this town in particular, but it is the same as any heavily
industrialized zone. The people here have lost their souls to the 7
deadly sins, and even though their soul is still resting inside their
bodies, they are beyond redemption. The only thing awaiting their
souls was their eventual reaping. The town had died, and it was time
to leave. A tall man stepped towards the a bus station to get a
ticket out. He wore a blood-red suit with a blue and black striped
tie. His hair was messy and gnarled. His eyes were holes into
nothingness; they were pure white except for swirling black rings
orbiting them. He had a grin that would drive even the devil mad. He
had taken victory over this city, and it was time to move on.

Mother Nature has been fighting, and losing, against Depression for
hundreds of years. Mother Nature fought with Opium and St. John's
Wort, and lost. Depression had always found a way, and eventually
these 'Nerve Tonics' were banned in the United States [However, Nature
is still fighting with opium in many parts of Asia]. Depression was
winning in the land of the free. However, he is losing his grip on
the rest of the world. He was recently defeated in Paris by someone
named 'Jean-Francois Buisson' when his new cure for tuberculosis was
found to make patients 'inappropriately happy'. But he would not lose
the United States, if there was ever a place full of horse-shit
depression symptoms [as well as real ones] it was here.

The year was 1958, and a small French man sat in a laboratory,
sleeping. He was rudely awakened by the yelling of one of his other
colleagues, telling him there was someone on the phone calling to him
from the united states. He picked up the phone, but said nothing.
"Hello? I'll assume you are listening. This is Max Lurie, of the
Geigy pharmaceutical company. I'm interested in marketing Iproniazid
here in the United States. We developed our own depression drug back
in '55, but it didn't have much luck. Me and my colleague, Nathan
Kline have observed.. greater stimulating effects in the Iproniazid
drug than just battling depression, it appears to bring a great 'high'
which is the term we would use here for a feeling of extreme pleasure.
We'll ignore the detrimental effects to the liver. I've said enough,
I expect the instructions for synthesizing the drug in the mail soon.
That is all." There was a click and the line cut out. The small
French man stood there in utter confusion. He did not speak English,
and he knew that the man was speaking English, yet somehow he
perfectly understood what the man said. Later that night, as he
walked towards the post office, he felt a terrible chill go down his
spine. He startled and dropped the white envelope he was carrying as
a man set his hand on the French mans shoulder. He turned around,
ignoring the dropped notes, and saw a man in a red suit behind him.
The man in the red suit bent over and picked up the envelope, a wide,
inhuman grin came across his face. "Thank you Jean, I'll be heading
back now." The man in the red suit turned, but stopped very quickly.
"Oh, just one more thing". He turned back to Jean, and reached out
his arm, which seemed to go straight through the tip of his skull.
The arm pulled out, holding a small piece of pink brain. "I don't
think you'll be needing this anymore" as the man in the red suit
pocketed the slice of meat. A frightening grin spread across the
frenchman's face. He spent the rest of his life in the local
asylum for the mentally insane.

Part 3: All in a days work

"The ones who really love you, walk up and down, outside the wall." - Pink Floyd

Things we're going well. Soon enough, the man in the red suit would
be able to lose his moniker of 'Max Lurie' and go back to who he really was.
He returned to his temporary home on the mortal plane of existence, sat down
and rested for the night.

In case you haven't been following our little story, The man in the red Suit, is
in fact TIB, or Insanity by his original name. Over the years, Insanity has been
enjoying the many customs of our world and having a physical body. He's had to
change bodies occasionally, either his current one gets too old or it isn't suitable
for the eyes of other people. Some of Insanities hair-brained adventures have
created tales of zombies and ghosts. Only one example that has been lost in time
was when he came to earth in the guise of Julius Ceaser, less than a week after his
execution. That was a hard day for Insanity, having to take the mind of anyone who
saw him like that. From then on he was particularly fond of greek and roman emporers.
Nero and Caligula were pet creations of Insanity, and he is still proud of them to this
day. Ocasionally, Insanity will purposely copy the body of a deadman either to take
the mind of a particularly rough target, or, when he's feeling charitable, to actually
bring hope back to people. He's been contemplating for some time about taking the
form of Jesus Christ and staging the 2nd coming. He had other things to worry about
for now though.

Somewhere else in the US, a small man lay slumped into a recliner. The man had
not aged well, he was fat, balding, and he had rings around his eyes that showed
that he had lost sleep for many years, though, mania had failed to reach him. There was a small basset hound beside him, occasionally, the man would lamely outstretch
an arm to scratch the dog behind the ears. The dog was just as apathetic as the
man. His eyes moved slowly towards the phone, and after nearly 5 minutes of a
rather pathetic attempt at a staring contest with the phone [which had won by
a long shot] the phone rang. Rather than getting up, the man somehow managed
to pick the phone up with a long cane, and carried the sliding receiver to his head.
The man on the other end sounded angry, and inhuman. "Listen, you may have
most of this country by the throat, but not for long. There are new chemical comp-
ounds that will wipe you out here. I know that Fear is hiding himself, but once you
are gone I'll find him too. That's all, goodbye." The receiver clicked and the apathetic man, rather than putting the receiver back on the hook, let the cane and the phone
drop to the floor.

Insanity had a way with words. The second he hears your voice, he knows
every word you've ever spoken, he knows every secret you've kept, and he knows
your weakness. Even with his brothers, he never had a full conversation with them.
When he speaks, he is not to be interrupted, and when he is finished, he already
knows your response and what you would have said, and that's the end of it.
Insanity hated listening to long talks, but he loves to talk to his victims.
Ever hear the voice in the back of your head? That's not you.
That's Insanity, slowly picking the locks inside of your head.

Charles Jonstone had lived in the United States for nearly 10 years now. He had
moved from Great Britian, and has not had second thoughts about returning. He liked it here. The people were firm, serious, and anti-social. The less time spent with them
the better. His doctor told him this was not natural, that it was a form of some new
phony-disease called Depression. "Since when was depression a disease?!" Snapped
Charles to his doctor. The doctor stood there calmly, and responded with an
unnerving tone of voice. "It's always been a disease, Mr. Jonstone. Emotions..
Emotions can be diseases if you let them control you. I know you are skeptical
but I'm going to have you see a specialist on it. Max Lurie is his name, he has
a drug that can take care of your problem, I'd recommend it if you don't want to
end up wasting away in a chair the rest of your life". Charles didn't like the sound
of this Max Lurie, but he took the business card anyways. He would see Max
on Monday, purely for the sheer fun of debunking a quack in person. It would
be the most fun he'd had in years.

Insanity sat in a sanitary white office when he heard a knock at the door.
He knew who it was, and he walked over gracefully to open the door. When he did,
a short, but not exaclty little, man walked in who appeared no older than 40. He had
a vaudevillian mustache and a yellow suit. "You know, Yellow is the colour of insanity
That's why I've always liked that colour." Charles looked up at the tall man, and made a face. He already disliked the doctor even more than he had before
he met the man. Before Charles could say anything, his questions were ans-
wered. He didn't like the feeling, but shrugged it off. The doctor began to speak,
though it appeared to Charles that his mouth never moved. "I know what your pro-
blem is. I'll fix it, I simply need collateral. Do you have.. anything precious to you?"
Charles tried to say "What kind of Parlor trick are you pulling on me?" but instead
what came out of his mouth was the name of his daughter, the only human being
on the planet he had ever cared about. Insanity pulled out a small notebook and
started making a note. He turned around and pulled a small bottle of pills and handed
it to Charles. "It's a chemical compound that will make you happier than most.
I know you wont take it, so I'll give you your first sample." He pushed a pill into
Charles mouth. He wanted to fight, but for some reason, he was paralized.
He stared at Insanity for hours, Insanity had appeared to stare back at him,
but this was indeed only a doppleganger. The last thing Charles heard before
his heart gave out was his daughter crying on his deathbed.

Insanity, Depression, and Fear are not forgiving beings. For every gift they
bring to us, they take something away. And don't think of this as a simple exchange
either. They may nurture you into who you are, but they are greedy. And if they
plan to keep your soul alive and well, then they will do it. Rather than devouring
another soul instead, they will torture another soul. Charles' daughter was not
taken as collateral, his life was. In the end, Insanity managed to devour his soul
but in the process, torture another. By brining Charles daughter to the US, he
was able to stain her soul be forcing her [against her knowledge] to watch him
die. This makes the soul ripe, and while they will always keep their promise,
you must understand that the collateral they take is not what you give them.

Meanwhile, the old man and his dog sat. They sat, and sat, and sat.
They had spent many years sitting, and if anyone were to find them [Once, the old man had pondered why it should be so hard to find a man whose been sitting for over
a hundred years] they would have received a case full of world records for sitting.
But for the first time in many years, the old man was forced to stand up. His
weight tried to pull him down, but this was important. He felt weak, he had lost
another soul. He hadn't fed since the american revolution, he had simply been
biding his time and incubating the souls he wanted, but there was a threat now,
and it was time for the harvest.

Unlike depression and insanity, fear had chosen to stay out of the phyiscal
realm for awhile. He believed that staying ethereal had allowed him to be omnipresent
for the past hundred years. He had rather enjoyed the times, because with two
world wars gave him more than enough souls to take. It was even better during
the cold war. Insanity and Depression could feast on the people who lost their
minds and bodies fighting, but the cold war gave Fear the opportunity to feast upon souls that were fresh, and alive. If only he could rub it in the face of his brothers.
For the first time since the 1400's, Fear had entered the phyiscal realm.

Part 4: Convergance

Believe it or not, Death is the most level headed and intelligent of
the many sentient natures, though he hated them all with a passion. War
made his job hell, Death never liked waiting till the last minute to pick up
the bodies but War made it impossible to take them one by one. Greed
would buy his victims new chances at life, and death hated waiting extended
periods. Insanity, depression, and fear would all kill people too soon. Death
may hate waiting, but he despised having to do his job early. He wanted it all
done on time, one by one, in a neat fashion. But he didn't want to become the
thing he hates, so he stays patient, but he could feel a huge harvest coming
and he's ready to let loose.

Death had arrived sometime before Fear in the deserts of southern Utah.
Death rather liked deserts. From them you could see the skies without the interruption
of pollution, and there was no one for miles. The only human company he had were
bleacked bones, buried in the sand. He spent many nights here, completely undetected
for who he really was.

Depression could feel his loss. Insanities damn anti-depression pill was seriously
costing him his hard labored fruits. He found he would have to fight fire with fire.
He would fight with science. The problem with Insanity's new anti-depressant was
that it was Hepatoxic, causing damage to the liver. All he would have to do is break
this news to the people, and they would eventually stop using Insanities drug.

When fear had finally arrived here on Earth, he could already smell the work
of his brothers. War had caused fear. Greed brought forth insanity. And he himself,
had brought forth Depression. He also smelled death. It wasn't of any surprise though.
If they all had anything in common it was their knack to push people into
an early suicide. This place certainly wasn't holy ground, and at this fact
he actually smiled. He had a secret weapon, but he wasn't ready to use it
just yet..

Part 5: Echoes of the past, visions of the future.

I'm sure that you've all heard tales of Depression, fear and insanity. They would all have major places in the future of popular culture. Rock stars and actors would be the pets of both depression and insanity. Ocassionally, they
do work together. Depression and Insanity had decided to work together many years
later, in the mid 60's. Insanity would get Depression labeled as a mental illness, and this
compromise would give them a nice 50 divide on our souls. Unfortunately, the
annoyance of the anti-depressant still remained. Insanity had started a fire that he
couldn't control, and it would only spread.

Fear was out-numbered, his brothers had allied against him, and he knew
that he would never get death on his side. But that doesn't mean he couldn't use
death to his advantage. When he heard of his brothers alliance, he jumped the gun
with his secret weapon: War. He had a way of using his brothers, and he had grown
so fond of War and his work in the early 20th century. War was finally interesting to
him. Eventually, War was dead. War does not exist in modern times. You may call it
a war, but it's not. War used to be a fair game, a fair fight. This war was rigged. It
was one sided. It would only breed more fighting, and more fear. It would never
end. When Fear had taken control of War and his ways, Terrorism was born.

Fear was at first worried about using war as his secret weapon, afterall
dead souls were not good souls. But the great thing about modern warfare is that
those fighting and supporting it were more mindless than ever. He ate the soldiers
soul before he would send them off to war, and then he would let death do his job.
Fear had enjoyed his time in the early 21st century. He had an entire family of
bodies. He wasn't particularly happy with the way his current body had turned
out [it's brain was rather thick, so he only used it when he absolutely had to.] though.
In case you haven't caught on, Fear is currently the president of our country.
He's also the vice president, and the former president. And he would try his
hardest to be the next president. The only problem, is that the citizens
are as unhappy with his current body as he is.

Epilogue: The Apocalypse and the Rebirth

As Fear had intended it, the new war had never ended.
terrorism spread it's cold hands all through the world, and by the
end of the 21st century, he had devoured the soul of billions. The
earth was a wasteland, people were forced to live underground until
the radiation died down. Fear had won. It was over. Insanity and
Depression could have the table scraps.

Fear had completely forgotten about death. Death could
end anything, even an immortal being. And Death was completely
impatient. He spent an entire century harvesting bodies, no souls
were left to him. Fear had used Death for many years, and Death
would soon take his revenge.

The death of fear was not a quiet orderal. Death had wanted
it to be long and torturous death. The humans underground could
hear fears screaming for nearly 300 years. It haunted their souls,
but they found a new found ability to overcome the fear the screaming
brought them. What was once a young child terrifyed by the horrible
echoes in the desert above, is now a child simply listening, still chilled
to the bone, but not afraid. Once fear was dead, people emerged
and civilization slowly rebuilt itself.

Insanity and Depression, once again, went their seperate ways.
They left Earth, and simply did their jobs. They would not abuse their
powers again. Even they can learn from their mistakes. This message
spread to all the other sentient natures, and for the first time in history
mankind lived in relative peace. War and Fear were dead, and they were
the only parts of nature that needed to be expunged, and by the 25th
century, they were.
That's because it's a story... Don't want to insult you or anything, but if you haven't read a story longer than that then I doubt you're much of a fiction fan.
great job croutons. i like how u have a quote at the brgginning of each part. this seems really good. i would expand it and maybe get it published some day
It's nice to see someone writing like this who can actually form paragraphs...

I swear everyone who posts their work online shows it as one gigantic block of text (a lot of fun to read!). Great job on the story!