Mada’s Cursed 2:

As I Lay Dying

By:  Stacy L.



CATEGORY:  Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Vingette


WARNINGS:  Dark, Disturbing Imagery, Violence

COMPLETED:  June 28, 2006


AUTHOR’S NOTES:  This story contains references to the Hindu god Mada.  Mada was the demonic monster god of drunkenness/intoxication, liquor and hunting.  He was believed to be a monster powerful enough to swallow the universe and the heavens.


This story serves as a response to a table fic prompt from the stargatefic100 LiveJournal challenge community.  This is the second installment of the “Mada’s Cursed” series.


* * * *

Daniel’s POV


As I lay dying an angel came to me, to pass judgment upon me, to determine whether I am worthy enough to return to the light...

Darkness fills me. It fills my soul. It binds me and traps me here in this lonely cell providing me with no hope, no mercy, no forgiveness... I want to go. I yearn to go, to be with the angel, to return once more to the light, but the darkness holds tightly not wanting to release me, afraid to yield one of its disciples.

Light flashes before me, beckoning me, calling out to me... I try to open my eyes but they fill with tears, tears of pain and tears of anguish, for my eyes have seen little light for far too long. I want to hide, try to hide, try to bury my face in my hands prepared to surrender to my fate, but the angel refuses to release his hold. He pulls me to him, wraps me in arms so strong, holds me, soothes me and presses kisses to my brow while whispering urges for me to come back to him.

I reach for him, determined to grasp his hand tightly in my own, but the darkness grabs at me, yanks and pulls at me and I find my hands will not lift from the floor. I release a soft groan of frustration attempting to yank against the coldness that binds me, wanting desperately to be free. The angel hushes me, whispering words of tenderness and love in my ear, urging me to relax and to hold still as he frees me from the shadows.

The angel of mercy is afraid. He fears I am lost, but I still remain. I'm still here deep inside, unsure of how to help those who come with me, trapped by bitterness and despair. I thrash about feeling hands, his hands stroke my back, stroke my face... I feel soft lips press tenderly to my cheek. I shudder, for I am filthy, unkempt and unclean. I am no angel, I am a demon for who would dare to rescue one of the cursed, one of the damned, one who has been forgotten and left to suffer, left to die?

I hear a name, a name not spoken in far too long, a name I have almost forgotten, a name that I know: Daniel...

Daniel, my name is Daniel Jackson this I know but have long since forgotten for in the dungeons of Mada we are all but faceless, nameless creatures. We are all his pets, his servants, his property... We belong to him and there is no escape, for Mada will never willingly yield one of his captive beasts. He is a spiteful god who shows no mercy, a blood thirsty tyrant who draws much pleasure in debauchery and malice. He is a creator of nightmares, a producer of fear and of terror. He is a designer of madness drawing sadistic pleasure in driving his cursed into the deepest, darkest depths of insanity. He pushes us closer and closer, driving us to the very edge of lunacy, and drawing great delight from those of us who fall...

I hear laughter, his evil laughter as it splits the air, and I visibly shudder. I begin to struggle yanking uselessly against the chains that bind me, unable to break free, unable to escape. As my breath begins to come in short painful little gasps I begin to form harsh words unknowingly repeating the same ones over and over again, "He's here. He's here. He's here."

The angel hushes me, comforts me, holds me, tells me I'm all right, that I'm fine, that we are alone and yet I hear his diabolic laughter, feel the coldness of fingers as they glide across my naked flesh. I sense his presence and know that he is so very near.

I swallow hard, drawing in a deep breath, clenching my eyes so tightly shut before managing to release a warning, "He's coming. He's coming. He visits often...not just me, others...the others around me... Guards, his guards are on their way...patrols...many, many patrols..."

I hear the angel gasp in surprise, hear anxious voices above me, around me, hear the sudden increase in the number of bone chilling screams now piercing the air. I sense the angel's concern and worry. The angel doesn't understand what's happening. I release another warning, this one harsher, laced with more urgency, "He has returned. Mada is here. He is choosing."

I fall silent, listening, trying to hear through the cacophony of additional sounds. Mada is here and he is making his selection. Those who are chosen will die this night. They will journey towards eternal rest only to be cut abruptly off, and trapped with the thousands of others who had gone before. I can hear the screams and cries of those who are now suffering and my heart breaks for them. As a tender hand touches me and a gentle voice calls my name I turn to my angel of mercy shaking my head in commiseration as I quietly inform, "Mada's back and he's stealing their souls..."

As I lay dying an angel came to me, to pass judgment upon me, to determine whether or not I am worthy enough to return to the light...

But darkness fills me. It fills my soul. It binds me and traps me here in this lonely cell...







Feedback to:    




General Fiction Index





All Rights Reserved.