Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Tragic Tale of The Black Parade
Asleep or Dead?
4 reviewsChapter 11. In my opinion it's boring but important. Read it carefully, por favor.
0Unrated
"Something's different about you," the patient said warily. The leader nodded.
"You could say that." His voice was different. Much younger, but also slightly raspy, as if worn out. He seemed breathless. "You could even say I'm a completely different person. And you wouldn't be entirely wrong." He began to walk in aimless circles and hummed absentmindedly to himself. The patient wasn't sure what to make of his behavior.
"What if I were to say you're a completely different person?" He stopped walking.
"You'd be wrong." The patient watched him in confusion. "I'm still the same person."
"That's not possible." The man suddenly broke into laughter.
"Fine. Maybe this'll explain it better," he said with a smile, snapping his fingers. The patient watched as a cloud of black smoke surrounded him, vanishing after only a few seconds. When it cleared he was shocked at what he saw.
"I thought you were-"
"Dead?" the man asked, still trying not to laugh. He shook his head, and his black hair flew in front of his face. "In that world, maybe. But not for good. When I died I ended up in the House of Wolves, and it wasn't long before I became one of them. But I was never exactly like them. I'm not a wolf...on the outside, anyway," he added with a smirk, showing gleaming white teeth that made the patient flinch slightly. "The person who's been giving you the grand tour is a different me. My alter ego, if you will. I live inside his mind most of the time, except for now. And that time he sang my favorite song. I could take over all the time if I wanted to."
"Then why don't you?" The man smiled knowingly at the patient.
"It wouldn't be as meaningful if I were in control all the time. Besides, it wouldn't be fair." He resumed his slow steps. "Do you have a clue why I'm here?" The patient shook his head.
"I already know what I'm going to do. I want to live again." The man nodded sarcastically.
"Of course you do. Looks like he was right after all. You haven't learned a thing."
"Like I said before, that's not true," the patient said hurriedly. The man's face darkened considerably, accentuated by the black bar over his eyes.
"Really. Look, I know I can't make you stay here. But where does your heart lie?" The patient shook his head.
"I don't know what you're talking about. But you're not changing my mind, if that's what you're after."
"Obviously nothing I say is going to convince you. Let me try this a different way." The band appeared behind him. He acknowledged their presence and began to sing.
The patient listened to the words. At first the man pretty much repeated their conversation, but then everything suddenly intensified. He was nearly screaming the words. Flames lit up the world around them and danced across his face.
"So many bright lights they cast a shadow, but can I speak? Is it hard understanding I'm incomplete? A life that's so demanding," he sang, glaring directly into the patient's eyes. "I get so weak. A love that's so demanding, I can't speak."
The patient had had enough. He was done letting these people make decisions for him. He glared back, feeling a strange sensation overtake him. And he suddenly had the urge to sing.
"I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone." He didn't even know where the words were coming from. But at this point, he really didn't care. The man was shocked at his actions, but never let the song miss a beat. He began to improvise.
"If you stay, I'll be forgiven."
"Nothing you can say can stop me going home." The band slammed the next few chords as hard as possible in frustration. None of them liked where this was going. The lead singer decided to try and regain control of the situation.
"Can you see? My eyes are shining bright?" he sang, motioning to the firelight in his eyes. " 'Cause I'm out here on the other side of a jet black hotel mirror, and I'm so weak. Is it hard understanding I'm incomplete?" he looked at the patient almost accusingly. Surely it had to be obvious to him by now. "A love that's so demanding, I get weak."
They went at it again, trading words and angry glares throughout what should have been the chorus. This happened twice before the band took over. This was getting out of hand. Someone had to take control before they lost it entirely. The leader sang on the very edge of his voice, trying desperately to hold on to the melody while still making a point.
"Awake and unafraid, asleep, or dead?" the man sang, almost musing to himself. The patient was getting angrier with each line of words. He had suffered through one of the worst diseases. He had died because of it. And they were mocking him. They played the same lines again and again, each time increasing in volume. The heat from the flames was almost unbearable. It was driving them all insane.
When they finally got to the chorus, the leader did something to surprise the patient: He sang every word. At first the younger man wasn't sure what to do, but his uncertainty quickly turned to rage, and their trivial competition turned into an all-out war for control. Whoever won would have the final say in the patient's future, fair or otherwise. They both knew it and silently agreed to it.
"I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone," they nearly shouted at each other. All three of the guitarists stopped playing, allowing their previous few notes to hang in the air. The drummer stopped as well.
"Nothing you can say can stop me going home!"
The world was completely silent. The band members vanished, all but the lead singer, who glared at the patient in silent anger.
The patient had never felt that powerful before. For the first time since his life had taken a turn for the worst, he had felt like he was in control of something. He had been in charge of the outcome. And he would do anything to keep from losing that power.
"I hope you're happy," the man said through gritted teeth. "He's sacrificed everything for you, including his own sanity!" He suddenly held a hand to his forehead, feeling dizzy. He fell to his knees, and then to the floor. The patient watched as the smoke overtook him once again. When it cleared, the platinum-haired man was lying on the floor in his place, unmoving, eyes closed. It looked like he wasn't breathing.
"You could say that." His voice was different. Much younger, but also slightly raspy, as if worn out. He seemed breathless. "You could even say I'm a completely different person. And you wouldn't be entirely wrong." He began to walk in aimless circles and hummed absentmindedly to himself. The patient wasn't sure what to make of his behavior.
"What if I were to say you're a completely different person?" He stopped walking.
"You'd be wrong." The patient watched him in confusion. "I'm still the same person."
"That's not possible." The man suddenly broke into laughter.
"Fine. Maybe this'll explain it better," he said with a smile, snapping his fingers. The patient watched as a cloud of black smoke surrounded him, vanishing after only a few seconds. When it cleared he was shocked at what he saw.
"I thought you were-"
"Dead?" the man asked, still trying not to laugh. He shook his head, and his black hair flew in front of his face. "In that world, maybe. But not for good. When I died I ended up in the House of Wolves, and it wasn't long before I became one of them. But I was never exactly like them. I'm not a wolf...on the outside, anyway," he added with a smirk, showing gleaming white teeth that made the patient flinch slightly. "The person who's been giving you the grand tour is a different me. My alter ego, if you will. I live inside his mind most of the time, except for now. And that time he sang my favorite song. I could take over all the time if I wanted to."
"Then why don't you?" The man smiled knowingly at the patient.
"It wouldn't be as meaningful if I were in control all the time. Besides, it wouldn't be fair." He resumed his slow steps. "Do you have a clue why I'm here?" The patient shook his head.
"I already know what I'm going to do. I want to live again." The man nodded sarcastically.
"Of course you do. Looks like he was right after all. You haven't learned a thing."
"Like I said before, that's not true," the patient said hurriedly. The man's face darkened considerably, accentuated by the black bar over his eyes.
"Really. Look, I know I can't make you stay here. But where does your heart lie?" The patient shook his head.
"I don't know what you're talking about. But you're not changing my mind, if that's what you're after."
"Obviously nothing I say is going to convince you. Let me try this a different way." The band appeared behind him. He acknowledged their presence and began to sing.
The patient listened to the words. At first the man pretty much repeated their conversation, but then everything suddenly intensified. He was nearly screaming the words. Flames lit up the world around them and danced across his face.
"So many bright lights they cast a shadow, but can I speak? Is it hard understanding I'm incomplete? A life that's so demanding," he sang, glaring directly into the patient's eyes. "I get so weak. A love that's so demanding, I can't speak."
The patient had had enough. He was done letting these people make decisions for him. He glared back, feeling a strange sensation overtake him. And he suddenly had the urge to sing.
"I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone." He didn't even know where the words were coming from. But at this point, he really didn't care. The man was shocked at his actions, but never let the song miss a beat. He began to improvise.
"If you stay, I'll be forgiven."
"Nothing you can say can stop me going home." The band slammed the next few chords as hard as possible in frustration. None of them liked where this was going. The lead singer decided to try and regain control of the situation.
"Can you see? My eyes are shining bright?" he sang, motioning to the firelight in his eyes. " 'Cause I'm out here on the other side of a jet black hotel mirror, and I'm so weak. Is it hard understanding I'm incomplete?" he looked at the patient almost accusingly. Surely it had to be obvious to him by now. "A love that's so demanding, I get weak."
They went at it again, trading words and angry glares throughout what should have been the chorus. This happened twice before the band took over. This was getting out of hand. Someone had to take control before they lost it entirely. The leader sang on the very edge of his voice, trying desperately to hold on to the melody while still making a point.
"Awake and unafraid, asleep, or dead?" the man sang, almost musing to himself. The patient was getting angrier with each line of words. He had suffered through one of the worst diseases. He had died because of it. And they were mocking him. They played the same lines again and again, each time increasing in volume. The heat from the flames was almost unbearable. It was driving them all insane.
When they finally got to the chorus, the leader did something to surprise the patient: He sang every word. At first the younger man wasn't sure what to do, but his uncertainty quickly turned to rage, and their trivial competition turned into an all-out war for control. Whoever won would have the final say in the patient's future, fair or otherwise. They both knew it and silently agreed to it.
"I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone," they nearly shouted at each other. All three of the guitarists stopped playing, allowing their previous few notes to hang in the air. The drummer stopped as well.
"Nothing you can say can stop me going home!"
The world was completely silent. The band members vanished, all but the lead singer, who glared at the patient in silent anger.
The patient had never felt that powerful before. For the first time since his life had taken a turn for the worst, he had felt like he was in control of something. He had been in charge of the outcome. And he would do anything to keep from losing that power.
"I hope you're happy," the man said through gritted teeth. "He's sacrificed everything for you, including his own sanity!" He suddenly held a hand to his forehead, feeling dizzy. He fell to his knees, and then to the floor. The patient watched as the smoke overtook him once again. When it cleared, the platinum-haired man was lying on the floor in his place, unmoving, eyes closed. It looked like he wasn't breathing.
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