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The grey world

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Old 06-27-2013, 12:35 PM
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Wind (Offline)
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Default The grey world

A silent rain fell lightly upon the streets. It made no sound, no splash. There were no sounds in this world, no sounds and no smells, no tastes either. The rain fell dully, like it fell every day. When the rain fell they could not remember the day when it did not fall. When the sun shined, oh so dully, without any real glow or warmth, they could not remember a day when it did not shine.

Tick tock, tick tock.

Hour after hour, day after day.

Tick tock, tick tock.

Week after week, month after month.

Tick tock, tick tock.

Year after year.

Tick tock.
It was all just a big clock.

They did not live, not really. They did not experience the world, for there was no world to experience. They were trapped, but they did not know it. A blind man does not know that he is blind until someone tells him so. Nobody ever told them that the world they lived in was not real. And even if someone did, what good would that do? A blind man can’t imagine how the world really looks, he can only assume. If somebody did tell them that they were only trapped in a grey replica of the world, how would they imagine the real world? Them who knew none about colors, none about music, none about art.

They were missing out so much. They never once got to enjoy the sight of millions of colorful flowers on the fresh green meadow; they never got a chance to listen to the sounds of music, so thrilling and entrancing, so comforting, so familiar. They never had an opportunity to express themselves. Not in any way. They were locked in a grey mental box that had no space for them to stretch their wings.

They had no feelings, for their was no room for feelings in the grey colored world. They did no think, not really, they only acted on command. A command that came from somewhere deep inside their subconscious. They acted like puppets on strings, never taking one step out of the circle that was drawn around them. They had no real will power, no way to do anything on their own.

They were trapped in the grey world.

World with no dreams or hopes. World so dull that it wasn’t even black and white. It was grey. That one shade of gray, stretching as far as the eye could reach. Grey shade that drowned all imagination or creativity. There was no place for that in the grey world.

And they did not mind.

They did not mind because they did not know. Nobody told them. Nobody told them that outside of the grey box was a color filled world.

World so beautiful and yet so deadly.
A world so bright and yet so dark.
Maybe it was the best for them not to know.
For what would a blind man do if he suddenly saw the world in all its beauty and horror?
Would the blind man be happy? Or would he be scared?
Scared of the unknown horror that invaded his new found eyes.

World was a beautiful place. World held colors, writing, music, art, nature…
World was a horrifying place. World held raping, murdering, wars, lies, loneliness…

That horrifying and beautiful world was the truth.
The grey world was a lie.

And sooner or latter

Every lie meets its end.

Be kind to people on your way up, you may need them on your way down
Better to light a candle then to curse the darkness

Last edited by Wind; 06-27-2013 at 10:26 PM..
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Old 06-27-2013, 06:59 PM
masontrc (Offline)
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The way you write is very poetic. You can see this in your repetition of sentences that start with they. There is almost a lyrical quality to it that I like. I also enjoyed the organization of some of your paragraphs into stanzas. You use a lot of telling, but you get away with it because your piece is one flowing bit of narration.

If you were intentionally going for a lyrical quality and I'm not completely off base, try adding more alliteration to your piece. I think you'll it read more aesthetically pleasing.
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