The Home
Prelude: Very long ago, very long indeed.
The year was 15034 B.C. friction was built between social leaders in dispute over power. Rumors of a war broke the silence of the air. Society did nothing to stop the war, no protests, no letters, not even a poster. Had someone spoke out it could have changed the course of every-one's fate. Just one statement could have started the chain of protesters for peace. It was September 11th of that year when the war started.
A bomb had been sent across the Horagian border by the Gorlacks killing over 52,000 civilians. The Horagians were royally pissed, and they were prepared to massacre all of the enemy towns. The fight got worse and worse as the two societies launched more and more weapons at each other. Not only was the fight brutal, but it was for a useless reason, the anger of just two powerful leaders. These doltish leaders that caused the fate of their very own race to become so horrible.
There are no valuable enough excuses for such a foul and sickening action. That such a society, built upon thousands, millions, of years of innovation, was destroyed in such vain! Death to so many beings who were in complete innocence.
The war went on with battles everywhere, almost all civilians were drafted into the continental armies. The two forces would not stop until the apposing was destroyed. Allies were called, armies joined to fight their common enemies. By the sun-calender year of 15033, the war had consumed the small globe. The greatest cities of the planet were reduced to waste, bits of rubble.
By that October the battles had become out of control. Soldiers, by order, were murdering civilians, rejecting surrender, and destroying the towns with no motive. Each side just wished the other dead at any cost. Life in the world was Horrible.
On the night of the new year the war officially became a nuclear holocaust. The bright sky was not celebration that shameful year. The bright sky was a sign of darkness, the endless reign of nuclear power. Genocide is a euphemism for the decimation that occurred on that small world during that bright-lit, earth-shaking, nightfall. Almost all the matter on the planet was disintegrated to mere energy. All intelligence was treated as nothing, as though each soul and being was worth their weight in ashes.
The world's greatness was at it's rising peak just 3 years ago, the end was dishonorable. The last survivor was the very Gorlackian politician that sent the first missile. Helios Barecker the III...
It was not long after dawn, but for this new day seemed already far old for poor Helios. His stay was in a prison, a prison with no guards, no prisoners. A room without windows, a room without doors, a room without walls. This prison lies deep within each of every being's soul body and mind. Fear.
Fear of a lost future, rue of past wrongdoings that cannot be fixed, fear of being powerless in the course of the universe. For Helios was in fact the last of his race, the last of his being to survive in the wasted planet. He passed days watching the sky, in hope for something beautiful to come. It never did.
Helios understood. There was nothing left to do. Nothing that would mean anything. It made him wonder at why he, or any, had been placed into existence. Had they failed their mission? Was there something greater? Something beyond their reach? These mysteries fueled the relentless fear deep within.
Days, weeks, months passed. More and more thought locked him tighter into the prison of fear. What was the universe missing? What was it that his kind had failed to accomplish? These maladies pushed him slowly down the stairs of madness. Deterioration of the mind and the thoughts that would help the future world, our world, become what it needs to be...
The world:
A small drop of water in the endless sea
The purest form of beauty
Perfection if you will
Trees line the skyline as abstraction surrounds the roots below. The origins of such a place will always remain a mystery. Almost as if life itself were a mistake, this beautiful place was remade into boxes, boxes full of ants, boxes full of life:
Life that should coexist
Life that should resemble serenity of previous days
In our plagued planet, too many a war, too many a fight. I plead for the new society to work together in harmony with each other, and the nature around them.
They shall call this world home and treat it that way.
Signed the remainder of life on our planet.
Helios Barecker the III
Tonight’s rest will be long and peaceful. I wish to awaken in a better place far from here.
-December 21, 15032; Planet Oronta; third from the star. -
A bomb had been sent across the Horagian border by the Gorlacks killing over 52,000 civilians. The Horagians were royally pissed, and they were prepared to massacre all of the enemy towns. The fight got worse and worse as the two societies launched more and more weapons at each other. Not only was the fight brutal, but it was for a useless reason, the anger of just two powerful leaders. These doltish leaders that caused the fate of their very own race to become so horrible.
There are no valuable enough excuses for such a foul and sickening action. That such a society, built upon thousands, millions, of years of innovation, was destroyed in such vain! Death to so many beings who were in complete innocence.
The war went on with battles everywhere, almost all civilians were drafted into the continental armies. The two forces would not stop until the apposing was destroyed. Allies were called, armies joined to fight their common enemies. By the sun-calender year of 15033, the war had consumed the small globe. The greatest cities of the planet were reduced to waste, bits of rubble.
By that October the battles had become out of control. Soldiers, by order, were murdering civilians, rejecting surrender, and destroying the towns with no motive. Each side just wished the other dead at any cost. Life in the world was Horrible.
On the night of the new year the war officially became a nuclear holocaust. The bright sky was not celebration that shameful year. The bright sky was a sign of darkness, the endless reign of nuclear power. Genocide is a euphemism for the decimation that occurred on that small world during that bright-lit, earth-shaking, nightfall. Almost all the matter on the planet was disintegrated to mere energy. All intelligence was treated as nothing, as though each soul and being was worth their weight in ashes.
The world's greatness was at it's rising peak just 3 years ago, the end was dishonorable. The last survivor was the very Gorlackian politician that sent the first missile. Helios Barecker the III...
It was not long after dawn, but for this new day seemed already far old for poor Helios. His stay was in a prison, a prison with no guards, no prisoners. A room without windows, a room without doors, a room without walls. This prison lies deep within each of every being's soul body and mind. Fear.
Fear of a lost future, rue of past wrongdoings that cannot be fixed, fear of being powerless in the course of the universe. For Helios was in fact the last of his race, the last of his being to survive in the wasted planet. He passed days watching the sky, in hope for something beautiful to come. It never did.
Helios understood. There was nothing left to do. Nothing that would mean anything. It made him wonder at why he, or any, had been placed into existence. Had they failed their mission? Was there something greater? Something beyond their reach? These mysteries fueled the relentless fear deep within.
Days, weeks, months passed. More and more thought locked him tighter into the prison of fear. What was the universe missing? What was it that his kind had failed to accomplish? These maladies pushed him slowly down the stairs of madness. Deterioration of the mind and the thoughts that would help the future world, our world, become what it needs to be...
The world:
A small drop of water in the endless sea
The purest form of beauty
Perfection if you will
Trees line the skyline as abstraction surrounds the roots below. The origins of such a place will always remain a mystery. Almost as if life itself were a mistake, this beautiful place was remade into boxes, boxes full of ants, boxes full of life:
Life that should coexist
Life that should resemble serenity of previous days
In our plagued planet, too many a war, too many a fight. I plead for the new society to work together in harmony with each other, and the nature around them.
They shall call this world home and treat it that way.
Signed the remainder of life on our planet.
Helios Barecker the III
Tonight’s rest will be long and peaceful. I wish to awaken in a better place far from here.
-December 21, 15032; Planet Oronta; third from the star. -