Nostalgia: September 22, 2007

From Chocolate Reign. A pretty early entry.

The Final Cut

The threshold stood in front of him, ajar with a glittering promise. It was hope; hope from which it was found and hope by which the future would be shaped. His proxy delivered messages of neither intent or expression, though implicit thought would have deemed such to be true. It was quite the novel situation: in through the out door.

Ironic, however, that this door would shut. And with it the hope diminished. He trembled, quivering with silent words. Nothing could be thought, no coherent speech could be uttered. Ever slightly he moved about the shut door. It was not locked; it left only a bleeding of light to deliver an infintessimal glimpse. It was not much. It was not enough.

Options debated within his mind. A few options sought to disturb the door, but none would avail. They never could. A distant beat echoed beyond the portal. It was foreign, now, and could not be retrieved. A trail of consciousness was strewn upon the ground and disappeared once it reached him.

And so he abandoned it.