Antithesis: Artist's Block (WIP)
Posted: September 11th, 2014, 9:08 amWhen hope is gone and love has died
There is only emptiness inside
And all the colours drain from sight
My world is left in black and white...
As the end of another semester in college loomed ever closer, they were busier than ever. Even so, Nina often allowed herself some moments of rest.
Apart from her and Leon, no-one among the other known students, even the hot-headed Tameka, were spared from the herculean task that was taking on final exams. Even so, as Leon was yet to achieve enough fluency on the local language, he was also taking extra classes somewhere in a neighbouring district, Ishizaki. As in for the other residents of their Hall, whenever they weren't struggling to be on par with their studies, they were either helping with the new year's festivals, being on their part-time jobs or being assigned obscure requests from Fishman, or the other Raven leaders.
In sum: nobody else was inside. Even so, the girl walked into her room, locking the door behind her, a tray with a hurried meal at her hands. She hadn't felt this alone since the Awakening. Actually... she didn't remember ever feeling alone since then.
After all this time, the imagery of her arrival in Kohara still remained fresh among her thoughts, untouched by age. While its titanic silhouette and tumultuous streets hinted that the most isolated and miserable segment of her life was alarmingly inbound, its inhabitants seemed to be more likely to be caring and warm-hearted than in any other city of olden times she had been, as though an unspoken truth hanged silent in the air, within everyone's thoughts, with the city's official purpose being little more than a game, despite its routine being merciless to those who didn't keep up.
Having a new purpose amongst studies, assignments and hobbies, a new family to cherish amongst undergraduates, and a nation to look after from within both the city and the Ravens, her feeling abandoned needn't be a reality anymore.
Yet, that swift change between worlds was intriguing. If she were to describe her home back in the great island in a single word, it would likely be "stillness". It was a place in which time had forgotten to float by. The townsfolk had taught her a very diverging meaning for loneliness: it meant detaching from the world's overwhelming stream of order within chaos in that unnatural web of eternal light laid out by civilization, in order to find happiness and grace at even the tiniest and natural aspects of life. Truth was, it was more often referred to as "letting go". It made overcoming jeopardy a much less demanding and frightening effort, and it was a long known habit of hers, so much that her behaviour often made her come across as an introvert on the beginning.
Their collective living at the Hall and the cheerful atmosphere raised by everyone of the crew made her be less troubled of her past self. She was rarely ever seen lingering on her thoughts, and it was often due to college's impending deadlines. Out of everyone, she had gone through the greatest change after moving into the Third Colony, but her peace of mind also made her the one who could better carry on with it.
However, her presence in the old world was still a vivid memory, and it was even more so on the last few months. She often recalled countless infancy days spent on a garden, not far away from home, where she joyfully played with other youngsters, or, with nothing but a borrowed pencil and and old clipboard at hand, wandered into the woods, not to be seen again until sunset.
There was a lot more to it. Her mother's remarkable dedication, as a parent, a friend, and an unmatched cook. Her father's hard work as an architect, and even his clumsy attempts at arts. Her uncle's shop, at the market street, where he also managed a strange currency which name she never knew. Grandpa's bakery at the train station. Even at the most troublesome times, when Dad had died by a terminal disease, and Mum had no choice but to move with her to London to spend countless nights at work, there was a silver lining: the certainty that she'd always return, and that Nina would never be on her own when she awoke. Never had she had to feel completely on her own.
That day, Nina thought, had finally arrived.
Despite not being an appreciator of virtual multiplayer games, the girl would recur to virtual reality whenever she faced a dead end in a train of thought, or was in doubt with her feelings, or simply needed some rest, being away from reality, but never merging both worlds together.
Yet none of those scenarios were as genuine as what she experienced now. Some might have called that artist's block. For her greatest masterpiece was her own life, and her legacy.
But she had made the Crossing. Nina's life was in fact two, and she was in doubt which path to follow.
Down she stared from the flat glass surface which also played the role of a mysteriously trusty wall, at the fifty glass floors below her feet, and at the other buildings, titanic spears of metal and acrylic, spread throughout the horizon. She wondered about all the others in the city, whether that iconic atmosphere that struck her on day one still existed.
Just above the hives of steel, ominous clouds shrouded the stars above. At a sorrowful and eternal whisper, Heaven began to shed acid tears.
The girl then gazed at the few portrait frames she kept in her room, most of the very few the Hall could afford, and also only as many as their just as scarce shelves could gather. Even though no blood bonds and no debts were held between these young people, they were more of a family than anything else she could ever expect to know on that place...
One final gaze outside, at the dark rain plummeting from above, one that she could never dare to touch. The new world hadn't spared her even that.
Nina leaned back, gracefully laying down on bed, her shoulder-length, smooth russet brown hair spreading out over a fluffy blanket. A well rehearsed act at the end of each day, yet always as clumsy as the previous time: it was all her worn out mind would allow. A flat screen, nearly indistinguishable from the ceiling, while covering most of it, emulated the stars which humans could once yearn to see, maybe even reach, even though that illusion had long ago been forgotten, dismissed beneath a layer after another of fog, rust, warfare and deceasing history.
"Link start."
There is only emptiness inside
And all the colours drain from sight
My world is left in black and white...
Apart from her and Leon, no-one among the other known students, even the hot-headed Tameka, were spared from the herculean task that was taking on final exams. Even so, as Leon was yet to achieve enough fluency on the local language, he was also taking extra classes somewhere in a neighbouring district, Ishizaki. As in for the other residents of their Hall, whenever they weren't struggling to be on par with their studies, they were either helping with the new year's festivals, being on their part-time jobs or being assigned obscure requests from Fishman, or the other Raven leaders.
In sum: nobody else was inside. Even so, the girl walked into her room, locking the door behind her, a tray with a hurried meal at her hands. She hadn't felt this alone since the Awakening. Actually... she didn't remember ever feeling alone since then.
After all this time, the imagery of her arrival in Kohara still remained fresh among her thoughts, untouched by age. While its titanic silhouette and tumultuous streets hinted that the most isolated and miserable segment of her life was alarmingly inbound, its inhabitants seemed to be more likely to be caring and warm-hearted than in any other city of olden times she had been, as though an unspoken truth hanged silent in the air, within everyone's thoughts, with the city's official purpose being little more than a game, despite its routine being merciless to those who didn't keep up.
Having a new purpose amongst studies, assignments and hobbies, a new family to cherish amongst undergraduates, and a nation to look after from within both the city and the Ravens, her feeling abandoned needn't be a reality anymore.
Yet, that swift change between worlds was intriguing. If she were to describe her home back in the great island in a single word, it would likely be "stillness". It was a place in which time had forgotten to float by. The townsfolk had taught her a very diverging meaning for loneliness: it meant detaching from the world's overwhelming stream of order within chaos in that unnatural web of eternal light laid out by civilization, in order to find happiness and grace at even the tiniest and natural aspects of life. Truth was, it was more often referred to as "letting go". It made overcoming jeopardy a much less demanding and frightening effort, and it was a long known habit of hers, so much that her behaviour often made her come across as an introvert on the beginning.
Their collective living at the Hall and the cheerful atmosphere raised by everyone of the crew made her be less troubled of her past self. She was rarely ever seen lingering on her thoughts, and it was often due to college's impending deadlines. Out of everyone, she had gone through the greatest change after moving into the Third Colony, but her peace of mind also made her the one who could better carry on with it.
However, her presence in the old world was still a vivid memory, and it was even more so on the last few months. She often recalled countless infancy days spent on a garden, not far away from home, where she joyfully played with other youngsters, or, with nothing but a borrowed pencil and and old clipboard at hand, wandered into the woods, not to be seen again until sunset.
There was a lot more to it. Her mother's remarkable dedication, as a parent, a friend, and an unmatched cook. Her father's hard work as an architect, and even his clumsy attempts at arts. Her uncle's shop, at the market street, where he also managed a strange currency which name she never knew. Grandpa's bakery at the train station. Even at the most troublesome times, when Dad had died by a terminal disease, and Mum had no choice but to move with her to London to spend countless nights at work, there was a silver lining: the certainty that she'd always return, and that Nina would never be on her own when she awoke. Never had she had to feel completely on her own.
That day, Nina thought, had finally arrived.
Despite not being an appreciator of virtual multiplayer games, the girl would recur to virtual reality whenever she faced a dead end in a train of thought, or was in doubt with her feelings, or simply needed some rest, being away from reality, but never merging both worlds together.
Yet none of those scenarios were as genuine as what she experienced now. Some might have called that artist's block. For her greatest masterpiece was her own life, and her legacy.
But she had made the Crossing. Nina's life was in fact two, and she was in doubt which path to follow.
Down she stared from the flat glass surface which also played the role of a mysteriously trusty wall, at the fifty glass floors below her feet, and at the other buildings, titanic spears of metal and acrylic, spread throughout the horizon. She wondered about all the others in the city, whether that iconic atmosphere that struck her on day one still existed.
Just above the hives of steel, ominous clouds shrouded the stars above. At a sorrowful and eternal whisper, Heaven began to shed acid tears.
The girl then gazed at the few portrait frames she kept in her room, most of the very few the Hall could afford, and also only as many as their just as scarce shelves could gather. Even though no blood bonds and no debts were held between these young people, they were more of a family than anything else she could ever expect to know on that place...
One final gaze outside, at the dark rain plummeting from above, one that she could never dare to touch. The new world hadn't spared her even that.
Nina leaned back, gracefully laying down on bed, her shoulder-length, smooth russet brown hair spreading out over a fluffy blanket. A well rehearsed act at the end of each day, yet always as clumsy as the previous time: it was all her worn out mind would allow. A flat screen, nearly indistinguishable from the ceiling, while covering most of it, emulated the stars which humans could once yearn to see, maybe even reach, even though that illusion had long ago been forgotten, dismissed beneath a layer after another of fog, rust, warfare and deceasing history.
"Link start."