Post by poet on Dec 24, 2006 20:29:51 GMT
They’ve forgotten
The hall was massive, a room fit to host a wedding or perhaps a prom night. The festive colors that decorated the wall were tarnished now. What was once a bright red paint was peeling and stained with brown marks that were or unidentifiable origin. The ruined red paint ran along the walls down perhaps 300 feet of walls, stained throughout and peeling where the stains had failed to reach the wall’s face. At the end of the hall, its head vanished behind a massive golden curtain, torn in places but only enough to reveal darkness behind the curtain. A gentle breeze blew the golden curtain forward in such a slow manner that it appeared to be alive, sliding forward with such caution that one could not be sure of its approach. A slow and calm motion forward or it was possible that the camera was simply slipping toward the melodic dance of the golden curtain instead. All of this occurred in the darkness of a room without windows or light, but colors bright enough to stand out regardless of the lighting. The floor was a decorum of white marble tiles with small black diamond shapes embedded in the center of each tile. As with the rest of the room’s once elegant decorations, the marble was damaged now. Cracked in many places, the marble sprayed a powder about the general areas of each crack. The cracks spiraled like small streams toward the massive and ever-present curtain, as it gently shuffled forward. Aside from the curtain, the room was without life, not even tables or chairs lay in what was once a place of celebration.
They’ve forgotten who I am
The curtain reached out as if it could span the entire hallway if the wind breathed hard enough upon it. The curtain’s outstretched arm slid back, as it inched ever forward to an unseen destination. Alive with the air that blew from behind it, or perhaps with the life or memories left behind of the happy people that once celebrated within the hall. Families smiled and laughed, dancing around in gentle circles as soothing music played. They laughed with the comfort of each others’ gazes, and smiles never failed. Love was in essence the strongest emotion left behind, happiness a strong second. Yet none of these wondrous and beautiful emotions could save the hall from time’s destruction. The once brilliantly red walls were now bleeding with grotesque stains, the smooth marble floor was little more the gravel, and the golden and regal curtain was no more then a ghost born of the memories of better times. Time had destroyed this hall, turning it into nothing more then a memento of the joy that once existed.
They’ll know soon enough
In an instant, it all came to a halt. The creeping curtain was no longer moving, and the walls seemed to darken even further. The curtain, still and lifeless now, ceased all motion and slid backward clinging to the wall behind it. The memories are gone, no longer of any value. Such is the way that time allows us to forget. Legends are but a memory, and even they will someday cease to exist. Decrepit and destroyed, the hall is a testament to everything that has ever claimed value. He’s coming…long forgotten. A legend forgotten and unknown to 4CW…breathing life into the dead and resurrecting what was forgotten so long ago.
They’ve forgotten fear
The hall was massive, a room fit to host a wedding or perhaps a prom night. The festive colors that decorated the wall were tarnished now. What was once a bright red paint was peeling and stained with brown marks that were or unidentifiable origin. The ruined red paint ran along the walls down perhaps 300 feet of walls, stained throughout and peeling where the stains had failed to reach the wall’s face. At the end of the hall, its head vanished behind a massive golden curtain, torn in places but only enough to reveal darkness behind the curtain. A gentle breeze blew the golden curtain forward in such a slow manner that it appeared to be alive, sliding forward with such caution that one could not be sure of its approach. A slow and calm motion forward or it was possible that the camera was simply slipping toward the melodic dance of the golden curtain instead. All of this occurred in the darkness of a room without windows or light, but colors bright enough to stand out regardless of the lighting. The floor was a decorum of white marble tiles with small black diamond shapes embedded in the center of each tile. As with the rest of the room’s once elegant decorations, the marble was damaged now. Cracked in many places, the marble sprayed a powder about the general areas of each crack. The cracks spiraled like small streams toward the massive and ever-present curtain, as it gently shuffled forward. Aside from the curtain, the room was without life, not even tables or chairs lay in what was once a place of celebration.
They’ve forgotten who I am
The curtain reached out as if it could span the entire hallway if the wind breathed hard enough upon it. The curtain’s outstretched arm slid back, as it inched ever forward to an unseen destination. Alive with the air that blew from behind it, or perhaps with the life or memories left behind of the happy people that once celebrated within the hall. Families smiled and laughed, dancing around in gentle circles as soothing music played. They laughed with the comfort of each others’ gazes, and smiles never failed. Love was in essence the strongest emotion left behind, happiness a strong second. Yet none of these wondrous and beautiful emotions could save the hall from time’s destruction. The once brilliantly red walls were now bleeding with grotesque stains, the smooth marble floor was little more the gravel, and the golden and regal curtain was no more then a ghost born of the memories of better times. Time had destroyed this hall, turning it into nothing more then a memento of the joy that once existed.
They’ll know soon enough
In an instant, it all came to a halt. The creeping curtain was no longer moving, and the walls seemed to darken even further. The curtain, still and lifeless now, ceased all motion and slid backward clinging to the wall behind it. The memories are gone, no longer of any value. Such is the way that time allows us to forget. Legends are but a memory, and even they will someday cease to exist. Decrepit and destroyed, the hall is a testament to everything that has ever claimed value. He’s coming…long forgotten. A legend forgotten and unknown to 4CW…breathing life into the dead and resurrecting what was forgotten so long ago.
They’ve forgotten fear