The Eternal Doom

CHAPTER 24FALLEN NIGHTANGLE OF FEARS Stephen

Death sleeps in the blooming roses of God, where the lives lay entwined on the thorn of devil crown, the who man plays with the soul of God and concludes his fate without the Lord, oh mortal you play then I play, we both God and man, master and his selfish clays, but the one who play fake with my soul than I the master of all will be the one to astray you from my way.

The immortal world was now finding the other world through the web of immortal dreams, the world where the dream of imagination ends and reality awakes; the world where God sits on His Divine throne, holding the threads of the dreams with his single hiss. every night Stephen stood on the balcony by his window, with his eyes searching again for the mysteriously amazing world around the strange huge tree, as it stood in the silence of the mystic midnight, with the sky shedding its dull haziness around it. The hazy orange glow of the streetlamps was flaring over the chandeliers of the pale leaves. 

Stephen drifted his glance to one of the great chandeliers, overloaded with the curling leaves dangling right over the middle of the deserted street, held by the vines entwined in each other more like thin dark ropes. Oh, how the hazy dull shadows were flaring over the edges of the chandeliers, as if something were burying them with the wizardry of the night glow, where some of the chandeliers were still in the darkness of the deserted mansion. What is making the charm cease in the sky, and making a rusty haziness fall inside? The atmosphere was dropping in some mystery, in profound silence, whispering something to the knifing wind, which was the only thing to be running over in the immortal world, which suddenly made Stephen transfixed at the wavy bundle of leaves, dangling down over the street from that tree, when a gust of silent wind appeared, making them wiggle slightly and slowly, as if the dull glowing hair of night were appearing in an imaginary world, wiggling over the dark threat dream. 

He stood there dully dumbfounded, as the overloaded bunch of leaves wiggled across the distant light, glowing behind it somewhere, in the dark corner of the street, appearing more like a faded void of fog. Stephen stood hypnotized, as his listless eyes were confounded, stuck over there. Oh, how the chandelier of thick curved leaves was waving across over that dull light, at the far side of the street! As if the thick curtain of nets were wiggling from side to side as the moon appeared and disappeared behind it, as it moved from side to side. Ah, what a world it seemed, some strange sign in the silent atmosphere of darkness! How the night was playing in the deep silence of the immortals! Stephen stood, consuming some depth inside. Oh, what a world it seemed in the night, where the huge curtain of overloaded leaves as still swinging in the dense horizon of night, crossing over the light behind it in the far distance world! It seemed as if the mystery of night appearing out from that blurred light. 

Or as if it were the only thing revealed. What such a world making out of the wizard of night? All the silence seemed to be consumed in light, as if God were providing a mysterious reflection of the moon, which seemed to contain the dreams of night. Is this the void from which all the dreams appear for the immortal souls? "God, are you there?" Stephen whispered, in unconscious decorum. No one could ever feel depth around it, which was making the night so alive. The wind was silently playing around, where the curtain of leaves was still crossing over that light. Oh, it seemed as if some dark angel were standing over the street, holding the moon in his hand. It seemed as if the immortal world had finally died beside the existence of the other world. 

He paused in a mesmerized silence, with a plain smile appearing on his face; his disdainful vision was still fixed on those wiggling curtains of leaves, created by God only. and the night held by the angels was making the immortal world disappear once again from his vision. no one could ever know what started to breathe in the dream of this world. the dark angel must be wondering over the haunted world. the chandelier of leaves was wiggling, crossing over that light like a pendulum crossing over and over, silently hooked by the chain. oh, how the night is whispering something to the wind and making a curtain of leaves to wiggle slowly in the hush and shush of the wind!