Post by heathertd on Aug 2, 2013 22:11:22 GMT -5
I was asked to post this here, so...enjoy!
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There is a school named Beta School Of Magic. Home to about eighty-two students; split into four parts. The fairies, the witches, the wizards and the sorcerers. They were all different, as some like Hugh Dax enjoyed the glory of winning, and some like Cheryl Lee preferred kindness in it's purist form. But they all agreed to not destroy each other out of school yard feuds.
It's funny that Dax and Lee were mentioned, as they shared a story at this school, a big one – it seemed. Let's begin.
Life is all about perspective, it seemed. Sorrow whispering in the cool breeze to the sad ones, and the Great Hornbill flapping its wings to the other ones. This is the reason to stay alive, to conquer the barriers of fear and retribution.
The young man had read that in his one single visit to the schools library. Now – stuck here alone, it came back. Not in a mocking way, it just was. Like all of the events that led up to the marble floor he was now laying unconscious on. They just were. Not to be changed, only remembered differently. Which was like changing the past, really. Time moved onwards, as the young man had an expanding mind.
But did time exist? This was the question posed by the very same one whome had led him here in the first place. Time was an invention. A cold, heartless invention. It could even be called a weapon in some cases. Like right now. But the fight blazed on and so would he. If not for himself, but the others. The many, many, aging time-obeying others. Words were finally affecting him.
“Words are deeds. The words we hear
May revolutionize or rear
A mighty state. The words we read
May be a spiritual deed
Excelling any fleshly one,
As much as the celestial sun
Transcends a bonfire, made to throw
A light upon some raree-show.
A simple proverb tagged with rhyme
May colour half the course of time;
The pregnant saying of a sage
May influence every coming age;
A song in its effects may be
More glorious than Thermopylae,
And many a lay that schoolboys scan
A nobler feat than Inkerman.”
The poem, of course, was from Earth. Written and credited in the same book and the only one he read. I think that he now knew, what it meant. Of all his thought on the subject, it finally paid off. He finally knew what was coming. But the man wasn't prepared, he never would be.
This is because, it was already far too late.
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That makes no sense, I know. It's not supposed to. Feedback?
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Prologue - “Revolution”
There is a school named Beta School Of Magic. Home to about eighty-two students; split into four parts. The fairies, the witches, the wizards and the sorcerers. They were all different, as some like Hugh Dax enjoyed the glory of winning, and some like Cheryl Lee preferred kindness in it's purist form. But they all agreed to not destroy each other out of school yard feuds.
It's funny that Dax and Lee were mentioned, as they shared a story at this school, a big one – it seemed. Let's begin.
Life is all about perspective, it seemed. Sorrow whispering in the cool breeze to the sad ones, and the Great Hornbill flapping its wings to the other ones. This is the reason to stay alive, to conquer the barriers of fear and retribution.
The young man had read that in his one single visit to the schools library. Now – stuck here alone, it came back. Not in a mocking way, it just was. Like all of the events that led up to the marble floor he was now laying unconscious on. They just were. Not to be changed, only remembered differently. Which was like changing the past, really. Time moved onwards, as the young man had an expanding mind.
But did time exist? This was the question posed by the very same one whome had led him here in the first place. Time was an invention. A cold, heartless invention. It could even be called a weapon in some cases. Like right now. But the fight blazed on and so would he. If not for himself, but the others. The many, many, aging time-obeying others. Words were finally affecting him.
“Words are deeds. The words we hear
May revolutionize or rear
A mighty state. The words we read
May be a spiritual deed
Excelling any fleshly one,
As much as the celestial sun
Transcends a bonfire, made to throw
A light upon some raree-show.
A simple proverb tagged with rhyme
May colour half the course of time;
The pregnant saying of a sage
May influence every coming age;
A song in its effects may be
More glorious than Thermopylae,
And many a lay that schoolboys scan
A nobler feat than Inkerman.”
The poem, of course, was from Earth. Written and credited in the same book and the only one he read. I think that he now knew, what it meant. Of all his thought on the subject, it finally paid off. He finally knew what was coming. But the man wasn't prepared, he never would be.
This is because, it was already far too late.
---
That makes no sense, I know. It's not supposed to. Feedback?
