Undiscovered Life

The wind had sang praises to its once gleeful children. Everyone had decided, however, to turn old and dull. What was once the sound of laughter that rang throughout the village had turned into mournful cries and deafening howls. The skies had once been the brightest arrays of oranges and purples. The two moons were the purest of whites. Those skies had traded their youthful and extravagant colors for a much more classic and gothic look, with alternative tints of black and grey. Somehow, not to the bewilderment of the citizens of Mystic, the moons had become black as well. When the skies had transitioned through their alternative shades of black, the moons had always followed suit by becoming more black than its partner. The continuous new cycle of having no sunlight could have been the root cause of the citizens' dulled spirits. It appeared to be that a new catastrophe would occur each and every day. Once, the mayor of this land had been wiped from her sanity, despite having the gift of immortality. Her joyful ways of thinking had become so suddenly and completely wiped out of existence. She became more statue than creature. She could not speak to her subjects and she certainly could not lead Mystic prior to her lack of existence. Mayor Goodman had vanished into the dark of nothingness very mysteriously, in the same fashion as many other influential peoples. The village, which was much larger than a typical village, had grown more similar to an outright empire than an actual village. Tradition was a major factor in Mystic, however, and change for the sake of change was not appreciated, though that did not prevent dramatic changes from continuously occurring. Despite losing nearly all of its influential peoples, Mystic did not lose all of the originality that had separated it from many of the other empires. What stood proud in the center of the village was the mother tree. The mother tree was a sign of life's resilience and it stood proud and tall; it reached all the way to the skies, which had further reinstated this truth. The mother tree was the last living tree that stood in all of the empires. Each time the incredibly painful wind blew, a select few of the inhabitants of the tree fell. They fell from the tree's largest limb which was so large that it could support many, many inhabitants. The world in this time was a dark place. No other civilization had heard the screams of these individuals and no one would acknowledge them, anyways. These children would take their final gazes at the tower in which gleamed across the beautiful white hills. When they would finally meet the ground, they would vanish from the game of life. The beauty of that artfully colorful tower provided decent comfort to mother tree's children, suggesting a possibility of liveliness. They had appeared, like all of Mystic's residents, to have found hope in the tower of colors in an otherwise bleak and cold world. No one had blatantly asked for the children to commit suicide. They decided to take that approach as the darkness in Mystic grew. How they could do so was questionable. Agonizing screams could be heard from around the empire every second of every day. Unexplainable fear was the major component in which contaminated the hearts and minds of the village's citizens. Leaders had risen into power with the ambition of putting an end to the spread of the darkness. These ambitions proved too grand for centuries. Mystic was not a village susceptible to happiness. Mystic was altered from the guidance of the imagination of madmen. The pavements were purposefully and carefully crafted with bloodshed. The new trees were designed to be rotten and dead and the skies were altered to be forever black. The deaths of these children were a result of a lack of intelligence from the community as a whole. Who, however, could find fault in a simulation from lacking intellect?

Author's Note

This story is intentionally vague. The meanings are totally left to the reader.

Reviews

[Desirée Tolliver]

This is a very interesting story. The village Mystic sounds like a very peculiar place. With the village becoming darker as the citizens become duller sounds to me like how despair and hopelessness cover us like a shroud in difficult times and our reactions to those difficult times. The mother tree seemed to describe life within trying times, how we still live despite the circumstances, and the colorful tower seemed to describe hope in the midst of the darkness and despair. I would like to commend you on your creativity. Keep up the good work. I look forward to reading more works by you in the future.