Author's Note: I couldn't think of a way to end this, which is why the ending is so sketchy. Sorry.
Everyone was there! A small group
had come from a different gathering,
looking more or less like everyone
else there, save one small boy, looking
at everything fearfully, and a winged
man named Elinar. There was a
massive flock of birds concentrated
entirely on one cage that held two
lovebirds, one large black one flew out
of the chaos, screaming "Nevermore!",
there were creatures of all shapes and
sizes,
Up at the front of the room were
several people set strangely apart
from everyone, at the top of the
staircase. On the third step from the
top hovered a translucent, humanoid
white mist, and next to it, a grotesque
and withered cadaver, with a mindless
quality in his glazed over eyes. On the
step above them sat four more figures.
First, a tall, pale man, who, when he
spoke, did so with a thick accent, he
was immaculately dressed in a tuxedo
and cape. Near him sat someone
completely covered in large black
scars, the most prominent one on his
forehead. He never said much more
than a grunt, and nervously eyed the
torches on the cave walls.
To his left, was a person that had no
identifiable gender, due to the
incredible amount of bandages that
surrounded it. Sadly, it was left out of
most of the conversation, as it spoke
only Egyptian. To the uttermost left of
this party sat a hairy man who might
have been ignored, were it not for his
nearly constant whining and howling,
still, despite all this he somehow
managed to maintain a dignified
appearance.
Finally, on the top stair sat one
solitary figure, older than any of
those in this room. It wore only a
long black coat, with a hood that
covered It’s face, in It’s hand it carried
a farming implement. Each one of
these people was replicated multiple
times within the rooms, each one
slightly different. It was only through
these counterparts that the
aforementioned septet spoke, as they
considered themselves somehow
higher than the others. The figure
seated at the uppermost step began to
speak, and It’s voice was more than
enough to stop all sound in the room.
"We are all wondering why we are
here, products of not only literature
and folklore, but of also the collective
daydreams of millions." It said,
nodding to a group of small children,
wielding axes and butcher knives and
advancing menacingly on a huddled
group of teachers.
"We are more real than any of the so
called ‘Normal’ women or men, and we
will always be so. The question is then
why were we all simultaneously torn
from our activities to be brought
here? I am, of course certain that you
are all anticipating a logical
explanation." This comment brought
forth a spontaneous roar of laughter
from the crowd. Deep within the folds
of it’s robe, the skeletal face grinned
wider still at It’s own joke.
When the laughter had died down, It
continued "But in all seriousness, I
must regretfully admit that I am just
as unaware of the purpose of this,
shall we say, event, as any of you are."
With this, the atmosphere of the
group grew very uneasy, a few tense
whispers darted back and forth
throughout the crowd.
"However," It exclaimed, causing the
crowd to fall silent once more, "I do
know this much, there is some
purpose to it. This is not one of the
occasional happenings wherein some
of us are transported here
accidentally, by some wrinkle in the
dimensional fabric. If you would take
a look around, you’ll find that every
member of the melancholy ever is
here."
It paused, allowing the gravity of this
to sink in. "Yes, I’m afraid we were
intentionally brought here, although
why that is, I cannot say." At this
point It sat down. For once the entire
grim ensemble was completely silent.
A few seconds passed. Then, as if on
cue, a crash was heard from an
opposing cave, one located directly
across from the aforementioned one,
from which their cave was just a
flicker of light. In it, was a
dramatically different party.
The Firemen were there, the golden
letters of 451 shining on their sleeves.
In the children’s area, Richard
Henshaw’s classmates were wondering
about this strange child who went
outside. Then there were a few
members of Jonas’s community,
although they were one by one
driven out, as the Memories returned
to them. The Bergerons were also
there, although they were unable to
stay on the same topic of conversation
for more than a few moments.
And of course in the center of it all,
The Director Of Moral Climates and
Handicapper General Diana Moon
Glampers were standing, chatting
about their jobs. The rest of the
assembly was nondescript in the most
literal sense of the word.
Since everyone was the same, there
were no leaders here, however, after a
few hours of monotone conversation,
The Citizens of Camazotz stood, and,
recited in unison, "Although We are
regretfully unaware why we are all
here, there is no reason to feel any
discomfort. We also recommend that
you ignore the light you see outside,
as We feel it may have some
connection to this." The speech ended
there, as Their speeches are rarely
colorful.
In between these two caves a sad,
solemn, and startlingly beautiful
figure walked back and forth. The left
side of it had long, silky, silver hair,
and pale skin, the color and
smoothness of fresh milk. It wore soft,
gray, robes that reached it’s feet, and
beneath that, sandals of the same
color. It’s left eye was deep silver, and
held a single tear.
The right side of it’s head was
overtaken by glittering, moving
shards of hair, black red, gold, and
deep, deep green, pouring out at every
angle. It’s right eye was glowing red,
with a yellow fire in the center. It
was bedecked in robes of crimson and
black, edged with gold. It’s skin had a
golden tinge.
It walked back and forth between the
caves singing a sad song, a song with
no words and no notes.
Well? What happens?
What do you mean "What happens?"
Come on, they said they were drawn
to each other, I mean, the just gotta
meet.
They don’t "gotta" do anything.
But- that makes no sense, that would
mean that they’re still there.
I wonder if I could find them...
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