Post by Amara on Apr 22, 2016 13:58:04 GMT -5
WORDS: #790 | TAGS: Open |
"I don’t sleep. My mind has the scary capability of being dark and demented." The young voice slipped through the crack of the darkness that consumed the library. Nobody was around, yet Amara could hear a response when she spoke. “You are afraid of your dreams?” Not bothering to look in the direction of where the voice had come from, Amara closed her eyes for several seconds as she tried to hide from the response that was trembling at her lips. As she tilted her head down, her long slightly curled brown hair draped over her shoulders and covered her small, carefully framed face. There was a sense of harmony found in this child's ongoing battle deep inside the confines of her mind. It had been a while since Amara had human contact, possibly months now since she had disregarded her previous guardian. This wasn’t because she feared those of equal life as her, but was more so because she was waiting for the right person. The right energy. Slowly opened her eyes, Amara peered into the darkness, her voice stronger than before. "Yes. I am afraid of what hides deep within."
Lifting her head, Amara rose to her feet and as her body became fully extended in an upright standing position, all the candles of the room lit up. The once dark room now poured with glorious light. Just as Amara had expected, the voices were coming from inside her mind for there was no one around. Spinning on her toes, she directed her body to one of the large book shelves. The selection of books was truly endless here, and despite the fact that Amara was still alone, she felt comfort in in the company of the great adventures each story held.The words on each page of the books lit up with glorious light as the adventures of the books spiraled the world around her. Amara could find herself spending hours reading, consumed by the events unfolding with each carefully thought out plot. Even when she forced herself to put the book aside, she craved to know more, craved to understand the characters internal conflict with each flip of the delicate page. To understand the meaning behind their actions, and to understand how their decisions made others fall apart or be constructed. But it wasn’t always the protagonist that caught Amara’s attention. More times than not, it was the antagonist that caught Amara’s attention the most. The individual who actively would struggle for their own definition of what is meant to be right in this world. The one that everyone only sees for what they have become, but not for what they once were. One day Amara would have a story of her own, a story of what this world truly is and how it had transformed her. And in this story, Amara knew she herself would be the antagonist.
After carefully pulling on the spine of one of the books neatly placed on the shelf, Amara tucked it in her arm. There was a surreal sensation of excitement that coursed through the young girl as she spun her body around and darted towards the nearest table in sight. Dropping the book down, Amara let out a cough as some dust flew from off the elderly table. First, she waved her hand in the air to disperse the linger dust, then she directed her attention back towards the room before her. Brushing her fingertips over the cover of the obviously neglected book, Amara read the title softly out loud. "Macbeth." Looking up from the book, Amara sensed the presence of another approaching, and this time is wasn’t just the presence of those who lingered in her mind. Those who lingered in her mind came and left as they pleased, leaving no evidence of their true existence. While the presence of the living, those who walked the Earth in a similar manner as Amara left a different imprint in the air. Those of the living came and left as they pleased, but the sensations of ambition and life were different than those that only Amara could here. The foot steps echoed from the entrance first, slowly lingering closer to whereabouts of Amara. In most occasions, Amara would seek a hiding spot and watch the story from afar, but this time Amara decided this was her opportunity to play part in the story unraveling on this Island. It was Amara’s turn to be heard and known. A small smile lingered upon her lips as she spoke this time, quoting the book she had drawn, and looking out into the empty air. "By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes."
Lifting her head, Amara rose to her feet and as her body became fully extended in an upright standing position, all the candles of the room lit up. The once dark room now poured with glorious light. Just as Amara had expected, the voices were coming from inside her mind for there was no one around. Spinning on her toes, she directed her body to one of the large book shelves. The selection of books was truly endless here, and despite the fact that Amara was still alone, she felt comfort in in the company of the great adventures each story held.The words on each page of the books lit up with glorious light as the adventures of the books spiraled the world around her. Amara could find herself spending hours reading, consumed by the events unfolding with each carefully thought out plot. Even when she forced herself to put the book aside, she craved to know more, craved to understand the characters internal conflict with each flip of the delicate page. To understand the meaning behind their actions, and to understand how their decisions made others fall apart or be constructed. But it wasn’t always the protagonist that caught Amara’s attention. More times than not, it was the antagonist that caught Amara’s attention the most. The individual who actively would struggle for their own definition of what is meant to be right in this world. The one that everyone only sees for what they have become, but not for what they once were. One day Amara would have a story of her own, a story of what this world truly is and how it had transformed her. And in this story, Amara knew she herself would be the antagonist.
After carefully pulling on the spine of one of the books neatly placed on the shelf, Amara tucked it in her arm. There was a surreal sensation of excitement that coursed through the young girl as she spun her body around and darted towards the nearest table in sight. Dropping the book down, Amara let out a cough as some dust flew from off the elderly table. First, she waved her hand in the air to disperse the linger dust, then she directed her attention back towards the room before her. Brushing her fingertips over the cover of the obviously neglected book, Amara read the title softly out loud. "Macbeth." Looking up from the book, Amara sensed the presence of another approaching, and this time is wasn’t just the presence of those who lingered in her mind. Those who lingered in her mind came and left as they pleased, leaving no evidence of their true existence. While the presence of the living, those who walked the Earth in a similar manner as Amara left a different imprint in the air. Those of the living came and left as they pleased, but the sensations of ambition and life were different than those that only Amara could here. The foot steps echoed from the entrance first, slowly lingering closer to whereabouts of Amara. In most occasions, Amara would seek a hiding spot and watch the story from afar, but this time Amara decided this was her opportunity to play part in the story unraveling on this Island. It was Amara’s turn to be heard and known. A small smile lingered upon her lips as she spoke this time, quoting the book she had drawn, and looking out into the empty air. "By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes."
NOTES ;
Location: Ghost Library, Promise Island
Location: Ghost Library, Promise Island
#ENY ADOXOGRAPHY
credit to nat of adoxography.