rw archetype

Archetypes | THE WRITER 

Words pour from the darkest reaches of their mind. The life force of every poetic sentence strung together stems from their very soul. Every punctuation, or lack thereof, leaks another piece of their being. From another world, from another dimension entirely, comes the fractured bits they need; ripping themselves apart in search of the perfect phrasing. Small miracles are made on napkins worldwide. It begins with a doodle of words held together by the hopes of something magnificent. Something that will change the lives of millions. It begins with a doodle, and ends in the adventurer we so emphatically followed reaching their goal after all the painful monoliths in their way. We are writers, and we are the saviors of the every hero inside of us. 

Archetypes | THE STARS

We look to the twinkling lights that hang in the darkness, drawing us out of ourselves and up into a higher place with their peculiar glow. We turn our eyes heavenward, no longer feeling the distress of earth. A weight instantly lifted by their calming presence. All the harshness and density of this life is refined away, leaving only the purest essence in its wake. And, in this moment, we learn we are not the sum of earthly bounds. We find a humbled sense of who we are, what we are, in contrast to the world outside our delicate atmosphere – beyond the thin gas separating us. We were born of those lights. Their essence is ours. And for a few moments, as our gaze falls on theirs, we are blessed.

Archetypes | PYROMANIA

It’s the smell that gets to me the most, you know? It smells like Hell. Like you just stepped off a one-way train taking you to a meet and greet with Hades. It’s not until long after the fanatical satisfaction wears away that you feel something of responsibility. The walls close in on you; they shame you for your inability to, yet again, control yourself. It’s not until the aftermath do you think about the consequences, or even care about them, if at all. The emotional buildup is all that you think about. It has a way of squandering the willpower others have – a reminder you are different – and all you see is red. Red flames. Red fire. Red. Everywhere. I can’t explain the gratification from seeing it burn, from having started it myself. I made a continuum of chaos happen. Do you know what that feels like? In an instant you may have incinerated something, but at least you are the master of your own universe. Yeah. That’s what it’s like. Master of your universe.

Archetypes | WILLING HERO

She was crafted knowing her role in this world. She was born, created, to show the might of her unparalleled heroism. Bold, energetic, adventurous – but also, kind. The type of kindness only mirrored in a child. Kindness that is only read about in legends. She is the apex amongst men. Without a flinch, she walks tall through the wreckage below her feet. With the heart of a lion, and a mind filled with unwavering knowledge. Tip-toeing through mountains of dragons, running brazenly through valleys of ghouls – she is the hero of this story. And do not soon forget it.

Archetypes | VAMPIRE

Your energy is theirs. Your life force sustains the Gods; the predators of the living. Dapper and alluring, killing in such gentlemanly ways. They do not hack into the bodies, or rip apart the tender flesh. They do not bludgeon or harass. Stalkers of the night. Children of the darkness. Polite. Deferential. And their victims – passive, at best. They leave their prey swooning, and return to them night after night, while the victim visibly grows weaker. Dying a little more each time. The restless soul of the Damned. They will find you, and they will feed. 

Archetypes | THE GHOSTS

They live inside this house of bones; built on centuries of terrifying happenings. Imprisoned in the imprinted lives that once were, doomed to replay the horrifying events over and over. Seen, but rarely heard. Their voices lie muffled over reality, lost on the deafened ears of the living. Sending chills throughout the spine, raising the hairs along these mortals’ skin – they creep through walls and doors, and hover without their legs. They make pleas to the living, longing for their wailing screams to one day come through the murky depths of the dimensions between them. But, when those voices finally tear through, when the monoliths between us and them crumble under their agony – what will become of the privileged living then?

Archetypes | THE MAGICIAN

He is master of his own world. He has taken the plunge into the unknown, over the edge, to find the control he so desperately needs. Leaping from dimension to dimension – he has broken passed the fourth wall to become an expert in the Four Elements. Dazzling, though a Fool, he hides behind his performances to make up for all that he lacks. Pulling rabbits from his hat, he looks up at his audience. Without words, without a noise, the ever allusive Magician vanishes behind a puff of smoke. Never to be seen again, jumping between dimensions.

Archetypes | THE ARTIST

His fingers strain but maintain their poise; positioned with the utmost caution as his wrist directs his hand along the bare canvas. The fine hairs at the end of the brush glide with ease, as if running over ice. And yet his chest begins to tighten. One wrong move and it is all over. One slip of the hand, a slight of breath, and his masterpiece will become a devastating defeat. An echo of the unwavering turmoil he has gone through. His entire being rests on the compulsive gamble of right or wrong, black or white – there is no grey area, no room for mistake. Neither on this canvas, nor off of it. The smallest fracture made to his passion, and the demons known as Insecurity and Pessimism emerge from their tombs. Greeting him like old friends do. Manifesting the extraordinary is what fuels him, but it may also be what ends him.