Lost In Gray

The Woodland forest. 

Standing before a vast land dominated by Woodland creatures that lurk around, biting, kicking and sucking your very being until you are left with a void as enormous as the Woodland itself.

 The Match.

The war has truly begun. 

The songs sung by the warriors of everlasting has come upon us.

The mightiest tremble for it is time.

The Queen must make her move now. 

Confused, I lay down listening to the rapid beating of my heart...wait I do not have a heart, I am a Gray, The phatom of a lost souls coming together to make a life, as the Colours call it. Life. But I am...living or existing and I am not...dead like the Blacks and Whites. I am simply an inbetweener, simply existing as lost but existent.

Stepping into the Woodland.

The beauty of this creature cannot be fully described. The Woodland is not a place but a being. Trees whisper accurences of the future, mushrooms move and breathe, but truly, the greatest thing about here is the ancient warrior said to be called Wild, gaurdian of Woodland.

The King.

War drunk; tastes of fear and excitement.

The tunes of everlasting, ringing, beating along with thy heart.

"Thou shall flee and never return"

Gazing at the Queen, uncertain

But The King shall make his move soon.

The Blacks.

I whisper by like the mumurs of a forgotten promise, as soft as rose kisses, as gentle as sunrise. Bearly making any changes to life or time, but I do posses simple powers like hiccups, repetition of familiar events or the beautiful lights that fill the northern skies.

The Colours, they amaze me with their faces that change with feeling or time. The way they dress and talk are all so different yet similiar in thoughts and action. But the uncoloured, The Blacks, mystic and magical, they perform wonderous things never before seen in the coloured world but I have overheard that in strange cases, blacks are able to enter the Coloured realm and act as though they are coloured. But I know the truth which is very obvious but the coloured do not seem to notice it, infact they marvel at them and exchange their currencies to watch them perform strange acts. The Blacks, conquerous of realms.