- EDF Instructor
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Paris, Berlin, and Moscow
All under my sway
Its all a gone, I don't know how
Her hair was dyed a platinum blonde, a reflection of the color it was back in her youth. She held a half burnt cigarette , it's smoke leisurely wafting towards the ceiling. The fan rotated everso so lightly. She motioned the man before towards a leather seat, opposite of the one in which she sat.
The day came when we were found out.
All the dreams that were had died
It wasn't even a shout.
That night, the group had cried.
The man remained standing. He kept his gaze focused intent on the old woman. She welcomed the sight of the him. The gaunt cheeks, his hair as yellow as the wheat on a warm sunrise. His eyes the color of metal, the gaze of a soldier. A shame he wasn't a gentleman caller. She let out a sigh.
We were the rulers of nations
The champions of countries
Crushed under revelations
Had to do away with all pleasantries
She looked at his suit. Her face reflected the same question she was about to ask. How did he find out? Before she could voice this, the man produced a brown folder from under his suit. He tossed it to her. She caught it with amazing speed for a woman of her years. There was no use hiding the truth now.
I can't believe in the end
What caused all this strife.
I guess it was the start of a trend
The events of that day I remembered clearly for the rest of my life.
The files within the folder told everything that they could. There wasn't the romanticism she viewed the world with back then. They didn't speak of the loves gone by, of the great speeches made in private, of the sheer idealism her group had held. It was wonderful to remember all that. But a moment later, she was back in the room, with the man still standing. She turned her eyes to him.
As I looked for guidance from those who came before
They shunned our failure to stay on top
To us, the dream was no more
And it was too late for this, to stop
The old one began to speak.
"It's all there, minus the heart. The file is pretty thorough."
"It's what brought me to Lisbon."
"I suppose so. Just one question."
She handed back the file, her arm outstretched. There was no point in getting up now. The man retrieved it, and put the file back under his suit. He pulled out another item, one that caught her gaze immediately.
"How did you find it and who are you?"
"Mark Danvers, Tagert Industry. Don't bother asking why I'm so free with this information."
"You already disabled all the bugs?"
"Every receiver and transmitter. Using your tech, ironically."
"Why are you so rude to me?"
"Ms. Horwitz, the records in that file give me no reason to be kind to you in any manner."
"You judge me off a collection of papers?"
"I judge you off the actions recorded on the collection of papers"
Ms. Horwitz looked down at the floor. She reached to put a hand on her face, scratched it a bit, and set it back down. She didn't want this to happen, she tried to lose herself in the music. But her efforts to stay in the fantsy were in vain. An attempt was made to change the subject.
"This is my favorite song. I guess you figured that pretty easy. They made it back in 1957."
Danvers stayed silent. She didn't care at this point. Her grip loosened, she let what she was holding slip onto the floor. Ms. Horwitz let out a sigh. She looked up to Mark.
"I'm no doll."
The truth was suprisingly painless to admit. But it was coming to the revelation that hurt. Danver's eyes focused onto her right. The eye was a light blue, that of the oceans of which dreams set sail. His gaze shifted left, observing the now reptilian side of her face.
"I'm a monster."
Danvers raised his pistol, aiming at the ruined visage.
The song reached a crescendo.
He opened fire.
Gawdziller wrote:I fully endorse this comment.
Chris55 wrote:Anyone else hear Groundskeeper Willie when they read that?
My One Shot, "That Which was Before":
GODZILLA LIKE YOU'VE NEVER SEEN HIM BEFORE!
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