Kian
Humanity's Stargazer
An Introduction into The World of The Word.
From within the chamber, he could see everything, yet was nothing. The cold gray steel panes encapsulated him in the vast room, inspiring a claustrophobic feel no matter the size of the room. Screens whirring with life coated the surface of the walls and ceilings, covering his view with fantasy, reality, drama, culture. But he was trapped, confined to this room to behold in it the vast universe of the imagination, left to wander, endlessly. His bright eyes wandered across the room, basking in the sheer volume of the stories left undocumented, unknown to the rest of the universes. The onyx pupils darted frantically from screen to screen, absorbing the lost tales as quickly as they were created, yet they could only view each for its fragment before another replaced it.
His pale fingers brushed against the sights before they left the scene and continued to the next, each one with its own excitement within, a simple story to be told and understood, yet left unheeded and unheard. If only there was escape from his eternal, timeless prison, but hope faded as quickly as it had arrived as reality had left him. There would be no escape. Despite his loneliness, he was not alone, for he was surrounded by those like him, unheard, unseen, unnoticed, yet existent to each other. He was only an observer to the art, a telescope into the stars, a peeper through the keyhole into the world of the word.
From within the chamber, he could see everything, yet was nothing. The cold gray steel panes encapsulated him in the vast room, inspiring a claustrophobic feel no matter the size of the room. Screens whirring with life coated the surface of the walls and ceilings, covering his view with fantasy, reality, drama, culture. But he was trapped, confined to this room to behold in it the vast universe of the imagination, left to wander, endlessly. His bright eyes wandered across the room, basking in the sheer volume of the stories left undocumented, unknown to the rest of the universes. The onyx pupils darted frantically from screen to screen, absorbing the lost tales as quickly as they were created, yet they could only view each for its fragment before another replaced it.
His pale fingers brushed against the sights before they left the scene and continued to the next, each one with its own excitement within, a simple story to be told and understood, yet left unheeded and unheard. If only there was escape from his eternal, timeless prison, but hope faded as quickly as it had arrived as reality had left him. There would be no escape. Despite his loneliness, he was not alone, for he was surrounded by those like him, unheard, unseen, unnoticed, yet existent to each other. He was only an observer to the art, a telescope into the stars, a peeper through the keyhole into the world of the word.