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sebmojo
Oct 23, 2010


Legit Cyberpunk









quote:

It had been said, back before the world had gotten into the mess that it was, that the sixth building, the only one remaining in that area, was once a hospital, specializing in mentally ill patients, that was abandoned at the beginning of the world war. Other said it was simply another horrid building from the post-war era, a shanty box to put dissidents in. Either way, what was now a crumbling rundown structure, soon to join its five other friends, had beyond its years ordeals which hid from the foliage outside to the walls that were once painted teal, to the pained feeling these doors gave when opened.

There was but one ordeal that was dinstinct. The structure had been build on something seperate from it. You entered looking for it among the dusted glass and rusted remains of objects, the reflected moonlight showing the semblance of the miserable sight around you. It was november, and the cold was digging to your bones, the melancholy of the weather just part of the short days at the end of spring. The wind came at midnight, whistling a heavier weight on to you, one that you were prepared for, yet also on degree, wanting for.

The truth was that the building had no basement. You were justified in that belief as you descended the curled gazed space around you, more pearly now, signs of an older age. There wasn't even a scent to it, unlike the slayed floor above. You were surprised to find down there elevators, unlike any you had ever seen or even fit the place, but not reluctant to open one. But you didn' have to do such thing. A blade of light appeared, light bathing through as one of the elevator doors, spread wide, soaking the wall and floor in front of you with a wash of other-worldly shine.

The silence which had now laid full separated this space from the world above, and left your empty self to think. This was where the real ended and the dream begun, the pill between two worlds, the end of the river that all of your old friends so diligently daydreamed about. Those that searched the darkest places and never came back again. You grew up, and you wondered what golden line they had crossed that took them away from you. But that was all old tears, from which not even the marks remained.


Some said the sixth building, the only one remaining in that area, used to be an asylum and had been abandoned at the beginning of the world war. Other said it was another horrid building from after the war, a shanty box to put dissidents in. Either way, it was now a crumbling rundown structure, You entered looking for something among the dusted glass and rusted remains of objects, dim in the reflected moonlight. It was November, and the cold was digging into your bones, the melancholy of the weather just part of the short days at the end of spring. The whistling wind always came at midnight, whistling a heavier weight on to you, one that you were prepared for, yet also somehow wanting.

The building had no basement. There wasn't even a scent to it, unlike the ruined floor above. You were surprised to find elevators down there, unlike any you had ever seen. A blade of light appeared, light spilling from one of the elevators, spread wide, soaking the wall and floor in front of you with a wash of other-worldly shine.

This was where the real ended and the dream begun, the pill that bridged two worlds, the end of the river that your old friends daydreamed about. Those that searched the darkest places and never came back again. You had grown up, and wondered what golden line they had crossed that took them away from you. But that was all old tears, their tracks long ago dried.

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