This Old World

A/N: Extended metaphor for the win. Came up with this at the tail end of Spanish class and just HAD to write it.

It needs big time improvement. I'd like to hang onto it for the next Journal, but I don't think it's living up to its full potential at the moment. Tear to shreds as you please.

To clarify: The "he" in this story is not God. I may be an atheist but I'm not a rude atheist.

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This Old World

He was dying, suffocating in the poisonous black cloud emanating from within him. He would cough and shudder, his insides raging, destroying him from the inside.
Still, the pain did not stop.
His body was covered in billions of parasites, billions propagating their own survival as they destroyed him. He was collateral damage to them. His body did everything it could to rid itself of the parasites. Disease, disaster, destruction. Nothing worked. There were always enough survivors to bring their numbers back even stronger than before.
As time marched on and he aged like all things do, his fight weakened. The parasites went on damaging him, tearing him to pieces. They could renew their numbers, renew their fighting spirit. He was not so fortunate. His strength was not boundless.
The parasites were a foolish sort, believing that they had been put in him for a reason, that he was their right. They lived in denial, professing their love for him and saying they respected their host. In truth, they only kept him alive to suit their own needs. The minute they evolved, the minute they no longer needed him, they would abandon him and everything that they had built.
They would abandon him for the other side, a place they so foolishly believed was real. An other side where nothing bad happened and only the good would go. A place where they would meet a Lord who had put them where they were for some higher purpose.
Fools.
He knew they were all damned little things. There was no hope for any of them. Whatever they believed would happen to the wicked, it would happen to every last one of the cursed demons.
He knew he would not last very long. They would get to see their mythical other side soon. Every day the parasites furthered his destruction by leaps and bounds. The will to live was leaving him. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. There were too many.
There were too many.
He felt heavy with them, heavy with their combined weight and their structures and their very way of life. More than anything, he felt heavy with their self-important ways. It was all for them. Everything his weakening body was theirs for the taking. Their higher power, their blessed Lord, gave them permission to carry out their evils.
Soon enough, he began to believe the whole lie himself.
There were too many.
How was he ever supposed to resist?
Some part of him knew that he never had a choice in the matter.
Soon enough, as the weight of the parasites became too much to bear, he collapsed. His body went into one last desperate effort to rid him of the parasites. Floods, hurricanes, earthquakes of futile attempts to kill every last one and set him on the road to recovery. It seemed only a blink ago that he had been happy and free of these horrid plagues overwhelming his system.
But nothing his destroyed form threw at the parasites hampered them in the slightest. They rebuilt at the speed of light, the casualties buried and forgotten. They were efficient at their job, if nothing else.
Eventually, he lost all sense of time and all sense of sanity. He closed his eyes and drew one last breath, one last breath that had been tainted by the poison clouds. The parasites began to scream.
There was nothing on the other side.

Hey!
Here's my crit key:
Red = comments
Bold = words I've inserted
Blue = If I don't feel like using red

Saint Razorblade wrote:A/N: Extended metaphor for the win. Came up with this at the tail end of Spanish class and just HAD to write it.

It needs big time improvement. I'd like to hang onto it for the next Journal, but I don't think it's living up to its full potential at the moment. Tear to shreds as you please.

To clarify: The "he" in this story is not God. I may be an atheist but I'm not a rude atheist.

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This Old World

He was dying, suffocating in the poisonous black cloud emanating from within him. He would cough and shudder, his insides raging, destroying him from the inside. This second sentence felt a bit incomplete. Maybe something like He would cough and shudder, his insides raging, but the fog only tightened its hold or something like that. Just a suggestions
Still, the pain did not stop.
His body was covered in billions of parasites, [s]billions[/s] propagating their own survival as they destroyed him. He was collateral damage to them. His body did everything it could to rid itself of the [s]parasites[/s] infestation Try not to repeat words too often . Disease, disaster, destruction. Nothing worked to get rid of them This sentence felt incomplete again. I don't mind fragments, but it just felt a bit abrupt. . There were always enough survivors to bring their numbers back even stronger than before.
As time marched on and he aged [s]like all things do[/s], his will to fight weakened. The parasites went on damaging him, tearing him to pieces. They could renew their numbers, renew Again, find another word their destructive [s]fighting[/s] spirit. He was not so fortunate. His strength was not boundless.
The parasites were a foolish sort, believing that they had been put in him for a reason, that he was their right. They lived in denial, professing their love for him and saying they respected their host. In truth, they only kept him alive to suit their own needs. The minute they evolved, the minute they no longer needed him, they would abandon him and everything that they had built.
They would abandon him for the other side, a place they so foolishly believed was real. An other side where nothing bad happened and only the good would go This sentence felt awkward. Please reword . A place where they would meet a Lord who had put them where they were for some higher purpose.
Fools.
He I know you said the he isn't God, is it the person who is being destroyed? The he just felt out of place. knew they were all damned little things. There was no hope for any of them. Whatever they believed would happen to the wicked, [s]it[/s] Parallelism please would happen to every last one of the cursed demons.
He knew he would not last very long. They would get to see the [s]their[/s] "mythical" other side soon. Every day the parasites furthered his destruction by leaps and bounds. The will to live was leaving him. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. There were too many. I would expand a bit more on his pain here. We know he's being destroyed. Just show us a little bit more of his struggle
There were too many.
He felt heavy with them, heavy with their combined weight and their structures and their [s]very[/s] way of life. More than anything, he felt heavy with their self-important ways. It was all for them. Everything his weakening body was theirs for the taking Awkward sentence. Try to reword because I had trouble understanding it . Their higher power, their blessed Lord, gave them permission to carry out their evils.
Soon enough, he began to believe the whole lie himself.
There were too many.
How was he ever supposed to resist?
Some part of him knew that he never had a choice in the matter.
Soon enough, as the weight of the parasites became too much to bear, he collapsed. His body went into one last desperate effort to rid him of the parasites. Floods, hurricanes, earthquakes of futile attempts to kill every last one and set him on the road to recovery. It seemed only a moment [s]blink[/s] ago that he had been happy and free from this horrid plague. [s]of these horrid plagues overwhelming his system [/s].
But nothing his destroyed form threw at the parasites hampered them [s]in the slightest[/s]. They rebuilt at the speed of light, the casualties buried and forgotten. They were efficient at their job, if nothing else.
Eventually, he lost all sense of time and all sense of sanity. He closed his eyes and drew one last breath, one last breath that had been tainted by the poison clouds. The parasites began to scream.
There was nothing on the other side.

Wow! Intense! I loved the ending line. It seriously is going to stick with me for the rest of the night. Great idea! I've never been good with writing metaphors, but still, this is definitley pretty good.
Onto the overall

The Good:

I loved your vocab! It fit right in with the story.

Your tone was intensely morbid, which also fit perfectly!

The idea itself was very interesting, especially the parasites!

Stuff that could use a little improvement:

All Knowing: I want to know more about the MC. We don't see his own beliefs enough throughout the story. Show his own internal struggle as he begins to realize that there is nothing on the other side. Does he panic? etc. I want to see a bit more emotion from him. Show us why he wants to fight. What does he fight for in the beginning, does he have a family or a loved one? or is he all alone and merely wants to live? Or is he extremely accpeting of his fate? I also pointed out the part where I think you could elaborate more about his pain. I want to feel what it feels like, show us the excruciating torture!!!!

The Repeat Button: Watch out for repeating words. You had quite a few that I tried to point out. That might have been your point, the repetition, but I didn't think it worked in some instances.

That was...Awkward: I know this is a metaphorical piece, but sometimes your wording is a bit too confusing, or complicated. I pointed out the awkward places that I had trouble diserning what was happening in the sentence.

Other than that, good job! I really loved it! If you have any questions, PM me!

Wow, awesome amazing metaphor here! I have to give you mad props for it.

I agree with the above review on expressing the thoughts and fears of the main character a little more. As it is now I'm not all that connected to him as a character. This could be so much better if that connection could be strengthened.

They would get to see their mythical other side soon.

I have no clue what this sentence is supposed to mean, even when it's put into context. You might consider elaborating, or people might start scratching their heads at it.

There's not a lot else I can see in this that screams at me. Very good Saint! This piece was excellent, it just needs a little bit more work to make it better.