[RipVanWinkle]

Hi all.
My name is Jeff. I post alot in the guitar and recording forum. I stumbled across a story I was...umm..retelling you could say. I only had a vague recollection of what I had wrote. When I started to read it, my brain started going, and I thought I would share it with you guys. This is also my first post here in this forum, so please dont kill me


So here it is:

The city was simply massive, plain and simple. As I walked through those magnificent gates, I could feel the presence of the dark hanging heavy on my shoulders. The gate read, "Asheron". The people, they cried out in vain, searching for and glorifying the utmost low things of the city. This is what these people did, they were accustomed to it. In my gut, I knew that this is where my search had landed me.
I reached the "pinnacle of light", the most pure spot in the city. As I arrived I quickly realized that the light was tainted and was slowly fading. I met with many of the locals. They claimed to be of the light, but most were lost in the darkness' shrowd of trickery and deceit. What they thought was the light was nothing more than the best deception that the dark could offer, for I knew the light. I was sent to spread the light. It longed for the city and the city longed for it, it just could not see it. I could feel the light in the inner fabrics of my being, building up.
I noticed an odd bunch of men, very vocal indeed. They were wrapped up in a swirrel of discussion of everything from city affairs to what the "light" could offer. I approached the men. My appearence seemed to puzzle one of the men, but none other took notice. I began to speak, and it was as if the men became mute. In dissaray they started to speak, "What is this babbler trying to say?". They did not understand my words or my mannerisms. I tried to tell them about the light, but to no avail. Others began to shout, "He must be advocating odd things, things unknown to us". The men then quickly took me to what seemed to be some sort of a meeting place. There many of the wisest and most magnificent men sat to listen to my story. Columns stood as far as my eyes could see, and swollen up in them were images of the dark. Light had not been seen in this place for many years. The men then were quiet.
I stood there, and they hastened to my every word. "Men of Asheron" I began to say, "I see that in every way you follow something....


-Jeff