• [OMEET]

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    • I found it. "A Farewell Long Gone". Should I write a sequel?

      Slowly, it dawned upon him. This frightening realisation, the terrifying sensation of both déjà vu and precognition at the same time, it all collaborated and made him numb with feelings he could no longer recognise. All this time, the last many years, had all been a way to trick him into this false sensation of safety, brought to him by doctors in nice, comfortable coats and yellow pencils. Yet this wasn’t really the realisation that made him sweat cold, since he had known of the lures of safety and the effects of what they had done to him for a long, long time. What really scared him was the slow, succumbing to the knowledge, the fact, that it was all a scam. An elaborate scam, surely, but a tree cannot help to shed its’ leaves, and the same had been true here: He was so obsessed with his own imagination, his own self-assurances that this was going well and good, that he had tricked himself into believing the evidence presented before him. Now, he thought as he rose to his feet, it had all been for naught. Clearly the trickery had not been properly done; it was not everlasting and as such should not be thought of as proper craftsmanship.

      The dust, fallen leaves and old memories all whirled around him. His walk through this park, this particular part of the park, towards that very defining place, the bench with the litterbin, near-hidden behind a hedge, was a return in triumph. He had redefined what he was, what he could do, his courage and his self-control once again tools in his own hands. As he smelled the decomposing leaves, the slight disgusting scent from the litterbin, he took out a single, red flower, made in everlasting plastic and sprayed over with perfume to make it seem to the senses like the true flower. He knew now what it meant to him. He was fully aware of the symbolic depth of his action. Even though his heart throbbed from anxiety his mind was calm. A saying goes that delaying the inevitable makes the pain worse, and though he would normally not trust a saying without an author, he knew what he had to do, for his convictions’ sake. His gloved hand reached out towards the litterbin, slowly opening it, carefully examining the first layer of random trash. With a tiny, sad but determined, smile, he dropped the fake flower into the bin. It did not take him long to get back to civilisation.

      His boots made a crunching sound against the gravel. The strong smell of spruce permeated the entire forest. He knew he wasn’t welcome here, but business called him back to this place. The small track through the wood had been hard to follow, but now he was here his way ahead was easy. The small patch of gravel in the middle of the forest belonged to the old church, with the accompanying cemetery and graveyard. Since the storm back then, the church had fallen into spiritual disrepair. The air was heavy and silent, while the man was clearly bothered with his memories and thoughts. Fitting in sense and mood, but at the same time a distasteful combination that put even more pressure on the speed with which he had to act. He passed the church without having any desire to look at it. He was perfectly aware of the year the church had opened, he knew what times there would be service and he could no longer find care in his heart for the priest attending. His goal was the graveyard, where his visit was short and solemn. He took the road back to town, passed in opposite direction by a single car, sold in a neighbouring town.

      Even though a bass drummed heavily somewhere a block or two away, he was silent, unmoving. His gloved hand rested on the naked skin of his smooth shaven chin. He wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes were closed, and the heavy, irregular breathing was fading. He knew what made the world turn around, and that was enough for him. He had spent his time studying matters of varying importance, and now the time had come to salvage what he had left.

      When the paramedics arrived at the scene, a single, handwritten note, with hearts to dot the i’s, said: “I am finally sane and free at the same time!”
      Destiny will Prevail.
      aka Chu, Chuwie, Chuthlhu, Legend Reborn, LR. Mod, GMod, NoAlly Alumni, Doctor of Evil, Ph.D., Baron of Roleplay, Viscount of Discussion, OBE.
      Nostalgia - it's not what it used to be.
    • Fiery Angel wrote:

      Largenton wrote:

      Fiery Angel wrote:

      I could finally make that happen :P
      Are you coming over?And York is better
      It's a lot easier for me to make London happen now that it was when I still lived in Mauritius
      You know if you turn up I have to jump huggle you? And take you to York to meet the four?

      I also agree with NA

      NoMoreAngel wrote:

      Nobody of the still active, not newly registered people, except maybe Cass and bibob will miss you
      And the COMA's opinion on the matter....