[TRAINING] Splinter of the Mind’s Eye - Part I
May 14, 2021 18:55:40 GMT -7
Post by Queen of Kamyuja on May 14, 2021 18:55:40 GMT -7
Splinter of the Mind's Eye
I've been to hell and back and now it's just a part of me
Without the darkness, there'd be no light in me...
Without the darkness, there'd be no light in me...
The stone walls stood as they had for more than two centuries, simple, sturdy, and strong. Mined from the hills and the valleys, they rose in testament to man's inherent desire to leave his mark, to build and create. Over those two centuries, man married the stone with brick, with wood and glass, enlarging, transforming, enhancing to suit the needs, the times, the whims. Throughout, the building on the crossroads watched as the settlement became a village, as more buildings sprung up. The dirt road became asphalt; horse and carriage gave way to simply more horses or people. Fashions flickered by in the blink of an eye. Still, it stood, rising on its corner of the square, an enduring landmark in the cycle of change. It knew war, heard the echo of cries from the wounded, the prayers of the fearful. It knew blood and tears, joy, and fury: birth and death. It thrived in good times, endured the hard times. It changed hands and purpose, yet the stone walls stood. In time, it fell into disrepair and now stood differently as to how it had when it was first constructed. On one end, it had a three-story octagonal turret; on the other, a four-story circular turret and spires rose from the towers. Clusters of Corinthian columns aided a colossal portico. Large stained-glass windows enclosed the front doors. The building was a little rundown, but it was still beautiful. Ivy crawled unabated up the massive Corinthian columns to the portico edge, where its leafy tendrils exploded over the stanchions and railings. Old paint flaked from window casings and curled away from the eaves. The widow's walk's wrought-iron fencing was rusted. A few of the tin roof tiles also seems to be dented. Weeds had taken over the flower beds near the porch. Old rose bushes grew out of control. And under her weight, the wooden stairs screeched. She took a tentative step onto the wooden patio, expecting to slip through. She thought to herself, ‘Jeez, this place would make an amazing haunted house. I wouldn't have been surprised if I came across a coffin.’ Massive and tangled, but still graceful. It was a beautiful ruin, full of personality but in dire need of restoration. "Yes, indeed. There ought to be a coffin on the front porch." She was relieved to find that the interior of the building was much more appealing than the outside. Chandeliers glistened gently above, the rooms were lined with expensive antiques, and the walls were draped with flit-framed prints and portraits. As she progressed through the first-floor rooms, she discovered that the foundation was rock solid, and it was the most stunning home she has ever seen. And it was hers.