The impassioned sun sank into the mountains afar, and the weeping moon shone in its place. The air was filled with an atmospheric cold as the blackened clouds slowly embraced the ball of white that hung lifelessly in the sky. A familiar place to some, yet unknown to others. The light whistling of the wind through the field joined with what was left of the wildlife in accordance with one another, and harmonised almost perfectly. One cannot but wonder how something so beautiful could turn into such a forlorn, hopeless scene?
A trail of thoughts emerged from my mind, but nothing quite as simplistic as the tall wooden axis that stood before me. Naked branches spread dejectedly across the half-heartedly painted canvas of dark skies. Mist weaved gracefully in and out of the arms of this fascinating piece of nature. Never before had something that was taken so strongly for granted in daily life seemed so elegantly superior to other specimens of wilderness.
Soon, an impenetrable darkness began to take over. My breath was slowly being taken away, as I felt the wrath of another presence blooming. My heart was fast. My breath was slow. Footsteps and shadows scattered behind me, but as I turned, there was nothing in sight. Fearlessly, my voice arose.
"Hello?" No reply.
I knew, surely I was being idiotic. I knew full well that no one visits this place any more. And I knew even more that no one can get in here anymore, the gates are locked. No, no one could be here. I continued along my path of audacity until something became apparent. The darkness, the cold, the eerie sense of loneliness, the locked gates. It all linked together.
Caught up in the ravel of idiocy my mind was casting, I hadn't the time to appreciate the vast nocturnal landscape that was surrounding me. Snow atop the mountains was transpiring down into the fields below, almost as if it was in a hurry to reach lower ground. I looked again, at the tired moon sitting upon the clouds in the sky, and breathed deeply. I felt some sort of strange, surreal connection with this spherical luminosity, like a childs first emotional glance up at its mother after birth. This was my home. Being brought up in a place like the one I was myself, is quite the advantagous lifestyle.
Though it wasn't all what it was made out to be years ago. Times had changed, and so had the place I once called my home. Blazing fires and terrifying screams flled the air with a horrifically petrifying feel, and changed the look of what I once called home, forever. The flames licked the sides of buildings and took them down ferociously, leaving nothing but ashes and burnt memories behind. Those that survived were stuck in hospitals, thriving off of the nebulized air that was being fed into their lungs. This incinerated town was filled with hopelessness.
Whispers in the wind echoed through the leaves, almost as if a message was being transferred from somewhere else to me. Was it you? Could it have been? Surely not. While I pondered whether or not to call again, something strck me. In the distance, my bleary eyes could only just make out the shapes of what I saw. Headstones. Bleak, rusted headstones. Weeping flowers, naked branches. I should not have doubted my thoughts. The darkness, the cold, the eerie sense of loneliness, the locked gates. It all linked together. This was not the once favourable place I called home.
It was a graveyard.
