It wasn’t long before our spirits started to fall. I could hear whispers late into the night of suggestions we turn back. This seemed like much more than a suggestion at sometimes, it almost sounded like a plea. Before long the village was becoming a blur and each of us got the feeling we likely wouldn’t see it again. I reassured everyone, but deep down I had the same apprehensions. Continue reading “The Mountain (Pt. 2)”
I have seen many strange things in my life time, though recent events make me wonder. I wonder a great many things, whether my life and the lives of those around me were really so tragic before hand. I wonder whether humanity really is the most wretched life form on planet Earth. But above all I wonder very much about the definition of the word “Strange”. For what I have bared witness to over these last few days is something which bears repeating. Continue reading “The Mountain (Pt. 1)”
Troy wandered aimlessly as he stared at the sights around him. To the left of him, men were building while the younger ones watched. The weaker ones helped where they could, passing supplies and feeding thoughts of encouragement to the leaders of their populous. The ground on which he walked looked like the base of any other road, yet it held more significance than any dared to admit. To the right Troy saw scenes of the same persuasion, the healthy busy at work, though less numerous on this side the people seemed more at home. Among everything wrong with this path Troy saw the one thing he felt was right, strands of life thriving on the path of a now flourishing community. On this side there was more joy, more hope, but even less progress. As he walked he observed, particularly the free people and their various daily routines. They seemed so simple minded, so happy with so little, Troy couldn’t help but envy them as he noticed. Nothing they did mattered, yet for them it was enough. He hated but had to admit that it wasn’t the same for him, it never could be. The people ignored him as he passed, as did the workers, and he was glad for the ignorance. Right now he wanted nothing more than to see the end of this crazily long stretch of road, or as some might call it the stretch of life. This vestige, despite its shortcomings was the most beautiful thing Troy had ever seen. He knew better than most the significance of life and the rarity of its abundance in this day and age. He held back his teeming emotions of joy as he hobbled forward, soaking in the richness of his new-found locality as he rejected fleeting memories of days long passed. Though his journey was nearing its climax, he planned on appreciating its wonders as best as he could before finding the end. Continue reading “Built to Last”
The length of time I have been here is lost to me. Time itself, like so many other luxuries is now a mystery. Nothing has been the same since I set foot in this desolate place. On a mere whim I found myself here, wanting to see if the rumours were true. All around me growing up I would hear whispers and rumours of a mythical castle far beyond the horizon of my home village on the outskirts of Ayr. The name is one that has always stayed with me, and now it will never leave me, not even for a second as I wade through its ageing depths. They call it Lannish castle. Built long before the time of my great, great grandfathers, this abode is said to have been abandoned for most of its existence.
From the moment he entered he knew something was amiss. Real estate was a tricky business to wade through. Lance knew this going in, but everything taking place now was unprecedented. He wasn’t your typical agent, far from it, the job Lance had taken on was one far darker and much more mysterious; he was a real estate investigator. That meant, put simply, he investigated houses of the recently deceased in the hope of finding the persons next of kin. It wasn’t a job he’d taken much pleasure in but just like any job; someone had to do it. There could be worse jobs, as things stood he was relatively clean. Though the way Lance saw it, there was nothing clean about what he did, sifting through others peoples mess, examining titbits of peoples lives, frozen in time in wait for their owner who’d never return. This kind of job bred depression, but Lance always found a way of dealing with it, one way or another. Some nights it was the drink, on other nights he’d turn to the more illicit. Not that any of that mattered now, what he found himself staring at, the house he found himself within was a far bigger mystery than anything he’d uncovered before.
The Mason pushed forward through the lifeless depths surrounding. Lancelot glared in awe at the sights enveloping him. His insides churned as he waded his mind through the weightlessness of his being. In all the time he’d spent moving forward, he now finally found a moment of tranquility, though very brief, he allowed himself to forget. Forgetting the past he’d left behind, the family he’d likely never see again and the crew that floated behind him, more lifeless than ever. His teeth were gritted with determination as he held on to the thrusters. The Mason swam seamlessly through the dark star-ridden ocean as Lancelot lost himself in the sight ahead. He’d heard the legends, had seen diagrams and theoretical manifestations before but this was the first time he’d seen one in person. Despite its alluring and deadly nature, Lancelot was captivated by the sight of the Quasar, in all its blinding luminous beauty. Continue reading “The Main Matter”
When wandering past the first sign of the second street in the third estate of Lowry, one will find themselves facing Ambleside manor. Home to many a life form over the preceding decades, one would be forgiven for thinking such a place was uninhabited. It was in fact, far more alive than any household on the street of Nuborn, as well any abode in the town of Lowry. From the very first glance it appears to be a place of questionable status. The paintwork on the wooden house began to peel, the garden was beyond overgrown and the door looked as if it had been crafted in a whole other millennium. Yet somehow, despite all of its setbacks this house remained, Ambleside, the symbol of a community long perished remained as the only living relic among a jungle of fresh meat. The street of Nuborn had seen many a new family take interest in Ambleside, but none ever dared to venture in. Before the time was right, before a single person could ever make the leap from civilised society to past exploration, something would distract them, or something would change their minds. They would often reassure themselves, guaranteeing a visit next time, but few ever returned, few besides one. Continue reading “The Second Step”