The Decision

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The Decision

Post by Masquerade on Tue Sep 07, 2010 8:58 am

[NOTE: This is just something I had to do in English 101. I took the intro to ToA: The Summoning and altered it to form a very short story. I chose to use it because we had to deal with sensory details, and the intro was so full of them; it was a perfect example. Then I had to incorporate a door handle into the story. =_= And this is what I got. Really I'm just posting this here because the printer isn't working and I'm on a library computer which means saving my work means like nothing so I'm posting it here to keep it safe.]

The Decision

The golden midday sun battered the city of Altinor mercilessly with its blazing heat. A glowing orb of the warmest bliss amongst the expansive and everlasting sea of the azure sky, it frightened off the fluffy comfort of the countless cumulus that normally inhabit the atmosphere and filtered through even the dustiest and dirtiest of windows today. Many people strolled the streets under the oppressive sun, whether they be extravagantly dressed nobles or grimy vagabonds, they went about their daily business with a peculiar happiness. Along the myriad, almost labyrinthine roads of Altinor, innumerable flowers of just as innumerable species reached longingly into the sky for the sun's tender caress. Their different shades and hues--purples, golds, reds, blues, violets, yellows, and any other color one can think of--brightened the mood of the city, and with their elegant dancing in the summer's breeze, their mixture of pungent and sweetest fragrances wafting throughout the city, and pleasantly startling appeal to the eye, they manage to delicately brush the weathered hearts of passersby granting them a wonderful day, regardless of the burdens that may be plaguing their mortal souls.

The stone constructs of the market district basked in the waves of heat that surged through the air. Different stores were bustling with business, a few of their workers out on the streets calling out the good sales to potential customers. The harried lives of the citizens were laid bare upon the cobblestone this day, for many discounts were being provided, and not a single individual could not be humbled by the magnificent and almost unbelievable deals in the establishments today. With their gold in hand, entire families scurried out of their homes to get some shopping completed. The cause for all this overwhelming excitement was the fact that today was Queen's Day--the anniversary of the crowning of the first queen of the Floran Dynasty.

It was for this explicit reason that Captain Rayne Saffir had even deigned to visit the smooth, tranquil halls of the Knight Apprentices' Academy. The meritorious, yet subtle empyrean of the city, finely constructed of the most exorbitant white marble, elicited a sensation of grandeur as one scrutinized its architecture. Yet, Saffir had come and gone, and come again, so the feelings of inspiration that had infused her so many years ago had faded into oblivion the same way her past self did. And now, here she stood before the door that would lead her to either making the biggest mistake of her life, or to a marvelous success beyond imagination. The decision was unbearable, and her prominent figure remained stationary, her snow white armored bustier rather listless in the dim hall and her matching white overcoat, complete with blue-gray lining, was draped lifelessly in the stagnant air, longing for action, only to be disappointed by the solemnity of the occasion and the ominous burden that had befallen its wearer. Her luscious, fluidic hair, an embodiment of the sea itself being a dark, abysmal blue, only served to amplify the aura of depression that clung to this powerful and authoritative woman. With her stern, predatory gaze trained on the L-shaped, metal handle of the door in front of her, she tossed her thoughts of failure away. Her hand seized the handle forcefully, but did not turn it.

The message she was supposed to deliver was a rather significant one. A renegade by the name of Chance Crawford, who also went by the alias White Phoenix, had been spotted earlier in the town square. Now, it was her job to rally the knight apprentices and lead them in an attempt to capture the miscreant. It was supposed to be a message of encouragement, and of inner strength and courage. All that stood in her way was a rather plain door made of the same white marble as the rest of the magnificent building, and a single metal handle. It was as though all her feelings of trepidation were manifested in this single door’s metallic appendage. Why could she not turn it? Was the decision too much? There was nothing to decide. She had been ordered to do this, and do this she must.

Overcoming her sense of nervousness, her true light shone through as she turned that door handle fiercely and stepped out into the courtyard only to be greeted by the cheers of the gathering of knight apprentices. Her face assumed its normal countenance, one of valor and ferocity unbeknownst to many. Standing behind an oak podium that had been set up for her, she delivered her message with passion, stressing how important it was to capture this renegade knight. The knight apprentices embraced her fully and gave her their undivided attention, eager to follow her orders.

None of it would have been possible though if her fears had not been quelled. Inside all of us lies a mass of unease that feeds upon our fears and makes simple situations out to be critical and complicated circumstances. There is a door at the end of the hallway of our souls. It is a plain door with a simple handle. What we fail to realize is that the handle will not shock us or burn us upon touching it, and what comes from turning it is not opening a door to a place out of which our worst nightmares emerge, but is it allowing a myriad of possibilities to overwhelm us in the most delightful of ways. It is for this explicit fact that we should all grasp the handle of that door and turn it. Conquering this handle means that we can conquer anything that comes out from behind that door.

The mission resulted in failure, and the White Phoenix escaped the city of Altinor with several other traitors to the queen. In the end, it was Rayne who fought against Chance, not any of the knight apprentices. She was disheartened by his escape, but that only served to motivate her further. She would not relent, and focused on pursuing this criminal. That was the path she had decided on, but only because she placed her hand upon the cold metal of the handle and turned it. And now her life will continue as it always has.

Have no fear, wretched souls. For the wretched is only what one's fears project. Your souls are souls of light, and do not, for a single moment, allow the darkness that is the unknown convince you otherwise.



*Thanks to Mayari for the wonderful avatar/signature combo

WhippedCreame wrote:oh god yes eat my spaghetti confetti

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