[Greetings - White book - Read ???]
–Welcome to the library. It’s a lonely place…
[Sometimes - Gray book - Read 1-2]
Sometimes, the petals fall. Sometimes, the rivers dry. Sometimes, it gets hard to carry on
–But some times, We must.
[Sometimes - Gray book - Read 2-2]
–Because sometimes we must, There are times we should
And thenforth is sometimes
Sometime in august.
[A Thought On Tragedy - Green book - Read ???]
–Our interactions with tragedy are truly an interesting subject. It’s interesting how humans are the only ones who will willingly subject themselves to this torture. Just for what? What do we consume all this tragedy for? Why do we prefer this over the happily ever after of fantasies? It’ simple reallym we just need confirmation. We just need to reafirm ourselves that we are “better” than the characters in that story.
[Read one - Red book - Prison]
–My story begins on a new year. I remember the sound of fireworks in the sky, exploding across it. Each seemed to be closer than the last, streaking across the sky with a sharp BANG
It all seemed to go silent for a second, then out of nowhere. The walls were broken. I was free. Rubble had fallen all ar ound me, littering the ground and the skies. Alarms began to ring, as I admired the outside. A beautiful full moon, beaming down.
[Read two - Orange book - A trail of fireflies]
–Before long, clouds had started to fall. Sound started to return, colors brightened and it all set in. I was ready to run. Towards the forest that faced my view, freshly illuminated by the moon. Cuts appeared on my arms as i hurried past the branches of the thick overgrowth leaving behind the concrete walls that had been my life. I did not look back, I was sure that the spot lights would be looking for me if i hesitated. Away I ran, trees blended into one, grass to ground, and sky to blue, Until i could no more, collapsed against a tree. Gasp Wheeze, I felt alive, finally away from the prison i’ve lived in. The moon still shining ever so brightly as i finally rose underneth the tree’s shadow. We had landed on a hill, long outstretched road i nthe distance to a stadium. The skies seemed clear.
[Read three - Yellow book - The Outside]
–I walked down the road for what seemed like hours, everything was quite new to me. The stars shined much brighter than all the pictures, and the gress felt much different than described. It was soft and spikey at the same time… But it went for hours, the road continued on, and on, and on. The stadium that i had once saw from the hill looked no closer than before. The sun was ready to spill over the hills by the time i got over there. It seemed busy from the distance, yet it looked like no one was there. The door had a glowing rectangle over it with some words, i couldn’t read so i didn’t know what it meant. After a bit of contemplatiing, I walked in. A maze of doors assembled before me, all opened. I coudn’t tell where to go after I entered. Signs hanged on each one, (Paintball), (Gym), not that i knew much about either of them. I decided to enter the first, a narrow door way leading into what seemed like pitch darkness. Slow steps echoed as i shuffled through the doorway only to feel a sudden shove from the dark room!
[The odyssey - White book - Read ???]
–On closer inspection of the book, most of the pages are blank. The only writhing on the book is on the last page, reading out: It’s truly been… An Arcane Odyssey.
[The last book - Black book - Read ???]
–My story ends on a simple note. After that journey, life finally catches up. I suppose. It gets harder and harder until one day. I’m right back where i’ve started, a concrete prison. Perharps old age will take me, or maybe all the enemys I’ve made along the way. But at least, it was my story. The end is only the beginning, and if you want a story, You’ve got to write it yourself.
[A Book On Death - Pink book - Read ???]
When do we truly die? Some say there is a medical death when our hearts stop beating. Or perhaps it is when the brain stops thinking?
Well personally i don’t think you die until your story is gone. As long as you had an effect on someone’s life, you can say you have lived. For if nothing exists of you, do you truly exist? Do we know of the first humans to die? Probably not, we dont know their stories. But yet we can assume they exist. They exist as a fragment of themselves. Names forgotten, faces lost, words gone.
I dont want to be like that… Just another nameless existence. “No, something truely extraordinary, that is what i want to see” – Extraordnary until proven other wise, Lemmino
