 |
| |
|
|
ShadowedFigure
|
|
Late one night, nothing stirred in the old town of Capitol. The citizens snored, and the merchants were still hours away from opening their shops.
But, in the darkness, one man was awake. One man crept down the streets of the city, a blazing torch in one hand, and something mysterious in the other... He crept down Atawa Avenue, then tiptoed on to Cavebear Corner. Finally, he reached his destination: Main Street.
The shady figure looked around the end of the street he was at, nervously. He put his torch on the ground and stood on it until it smothered out, and was just a smoking stick. It hurt his bare feet, and he was afraid his long robes may catch fire, but luckily this did not happen.
The figure began to walk down Main Street cautiously. He kept his back against the wall, pressing against the doors of the merchants shops and the closed shutters. He crept past the blacksmith, and almost tripped on a loose cobble. He crept past the green grocers, and stood on a tomato with a squelch. He crept past the fishmongers, and slipped on the wet cobbles outside.
Luckily, he did not fall. After re-gaining his balance, the figure moved into the centre of the street. Suddenly, he stopped dead.
There was something up ahead.
The figure sniffed and bent down. He looked over to the movement, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, noticed it was the town crier, smoking a pipe. He was standing right on the platform in the centre of Capitol Square, in front of the Capitol Hall.
The figure moved forwards slightly. He felt uneasy as the street ended and he entered Capitaol Square, with Capitol Hall, the Presidential Palace and the Apolytonia Church surrounding him. The town crier was still there - sitting.
The figure brought out a small knife with his spare hand, and clenched it tightly. He crept forward.. forward.. forward.
The crier stood up, just as the figure was twenty feet away. The figure stopped; the town crier walked forwards, not noticing the knife-wielding man behind him.
After a few minutes, there was a muffled bang as the town crier closed a side door to Capitol Hall. The figure was still rooted to the spot; but now he crept forwards again, putting his knife back in his pocket.
As he neared the platform, he put the object he was carrying in his pocket as well. He reached the steps and started to climb.. the first.. the second.. the third.. the fourth. He looked across.
The Capitol Guillotine was there; still blood stained from its last victims, that same day. Seventeen Communists had been executed - the cabinet had claimed they were thieves and rogues, but there were women among them. There were many baskets as well; the tax-collectors baskets, empty, but soon would be full.
There was a small dog gnawing on a bone. It was a stray; thin and straggly, but still formidable. It jumped up and growled at the figure - it was silenced with a smack of his palm.
The figure bent down, and pulled out the object he had in his pocket - a piece of chalk. He spat on it, cleaning the dirt off the end, and rubbed it on his robes. He knelt down..
The next morning, the town guards held the crowd back from the Capitol Square platform. There was to be a new execution - a murderer, who had killed several people, including a cabinet aide.
A guard, a burly bearded man, dragged the victim up the steps. He resisted briefly, but was soon overcome by the strength of the guard. He reluctantly went up to the guillotine. He filled his trousers.
"Down." The guard grunted, as the Executioner took his place next to the guillotine. He un-wrapped the rope and held it in his hand, as the victim put his head on the wooden block. The guard stepped back.
A woman screamed.
The heads turned, even the victims. He jumped up, coming an inch from the blade. They all looked at the woman - the victims' young wife. She was white; and pointing at the floor.
There was a dead dog.
That did not interest everyone; the High Priest wobbled up the steps and looked at what was written next to the canine; the woman and guards were illiterate, but the Priest recognised the language: Ancient Apolytonian.
"Citizens," he cried, "This is a message from God!"
The citizens gasped. A few fell to their knee's.
"It says.. it says.. Be Blessed All Ye Who Enter Ye Kingdom Of Hig'nar!"
Someone asked what that Kingdom was; the High Priest thought for a second, and replied.
"Hig'nar.. it is ancient Apolytonian.. for.. One World, One Peace."
The citizens gasped.
Who had written this message? Why had they written it? What did it mean?
Did it mean that Apolytonia would rule the world? Or did it mean that they would learn to love and live in peace with other cultures?
And just who is this shadowed figure?
Only time will tell..
|
|
| |
|
|
|
123john321
|
|
Barvoo Bravoo, are you joining?
|
|
| |
|
|
|
ShadowedFigure
|
|
The ShadowedFigure is by day a respected citizen - he does not play a huge part in the politics of Apolytonia, but he is around.
But by night, that citizen becomes someone totally differant.
Believe in me, my friends. Believe in Apolytonia.
|
|
| |
|
|
|
ShadowedFigure
|
|
The Shadowed Figure, accidently clicked "New Thread" instead of "Post Reply" - but did not notice. However, he did rememeber that he did it, but nothing can be done to change the hands of the clock of time..
You have all guessed well, my friends, well done. But not close enough - the Shadowed Figure is everywhere, but nowhere. He can not reveal his identity, for fear of what may happen to him.
His talents; although he does not consider them talents; would be in high demand from the government, and he may be accused of spying.
I bring an important message - but that message will not become clear for some time.
P.S. What is "DL"?
|
|
| |
|
|
|
ShadowedFigure
|
|
I doubt you have any idea who I am.
But please, humor me..
|
|
| |
All times are GMT. The time now is 05:22.
Apolyton Time is 00:22. |
top of page
|
|
|
Forum Rules:
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts
|
HTML code is ON
vB code is ON
Smilies are ON
[IMG] code is ON
|
|
|
|
|
|
02-10-2002 00:05
Or.... a visionary? A time traveller?
too dramitic, it was cheesy 
maybe he should be interrogated by our Secret service
[whisper] at work [/whisper].
Maybe once winter starts...
|