Clocktower (A Stand Alone Short-Story)
Mar 15, 2013 17:54:06 GMT -5
Post by Verbal, Lord of The Dreadfort on Mar 15, 2013 17:54:06 GMT -5
Rodney Majora
The district had always been run down, but I found it very fun to play around in if you had enough imagination and, better yet, knew where to go.
The clock tower, that would always be mine.
It was my favorite haunt, and always will be. Most people were too afraid of it to even stop to check and see whether the door was really locked or not. The tower itself was overgrown with lush green vines which scaled the vast stairs and ledges, and bushes had begun to grow at the base level, through the wet, maggoty wood floor.
"Over the meadow and through the door, and up the stairs we went!" I sing vociferous and rhythmically as I ascend the tower stair case, spinning on supports and laughing about jokes that were told to me ages ago. Had anyone been around to see me, they might have found me strange or even insane, but the clock tower was the only other thing her, and it didn't judge. Not like people did, it didn't hurt or destroy like people did. It simply was.
At long last, I reached the tower's top, where the wood was sturdier and almost looked new in the brilliant luminosity of the midday sun. I watched in delight as the masses of District Eleven returned to their homes from a long, hard day's to be with the ones they loved. I smiled and laughed heartily, and began to sing happily and loudly, knowing no could hear me from this high up. I examined the tower's long since nonfunctional clockwork with fascination, knowing this was a relic of a time long since past. A rebellion long since quelled.
And as I stood from the top of my tower, sitting on a ledge with one leg dangling over the side and the other curled near my chest, bathing in the warm midday sun, looking down at the shuffling people of my district, completely alone in a isolated structure that everyone had long since simply stopped noticing, I laughed and ate my bright red apple.
Nothing could ruin this moment for me. Not even the games.
The district had always been run down, but I found it very fun to play around in if you had enough imagination and, better yet, knew where to go.
The clock tower, that would always be mine.
It was my favorite haunt, and always will be. Most people were too afraid of it to even stop to check and see whether the door was really locked or not. The tower itself was overgrown with lush green vines which scaled the vast stairs and ledges, and bushes had begun to grow at the base level, through the wet, maggoty wood floor.
"Over the meadow and through the door, and up the stairs we went!" I sing vociferous and rhythmically as I ascend the tower stair case, spinning on supports and laughing about jokes that were told to me ages ago. Had anyone been around to see me, they might have found me strange or even insane, but the clock tower was the only other thing her, and it didn't judge. Not like people did, it didn't hurt or destroy like people did. It simply was.
At long last, I reached the tower's top, where the wood was sturdier and almost looked new in the brilliant luminosity of the midday sun. I watched in delight as the masses of District Eleven returned to their homes from a long, hard day's to be with the ones they loved. I smiled and laughed heartily, and began to sing happily and loudly, knowing no could hear me from this high up. I examined the tower's long since nonfunctional clockwork with fascination, knowing this was a relic of a time long since past. A rebellion long since quelled.
And as I stood from the top of my tower, sitting on a ledge with one leg dangling over the side and the other curled near my chest, bathing in the warm midday sun, looking down at the shuffling people of my district, completely alone in a isolated structure that everyone had long since simply stopped noticing, I laughed and ate my bright red apple.
Nothing could ruin this moment for me. Not even the games.
