Theme Song #29

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Celest, Sep 13, 2012.

  1. Music touches people in different ways. Many people enjoy listening to music for inspiration, and others simply listen to it to relax. Some songs tell stories while others allow you to make your own story.

    Your challenge:

    Listen to the song above then take a minute or two to think about it.

    Write out a scene to this song; make this song your scenes theme song.

    Let me know what you see when you listen to this music.

  2. The end is inevitable. Everybody knows that one day, the universe will melt into a pool of chaos and disarray because of the forces of entropy. Every sapient species knows that eventually, they have to fall, they have to resign their posts as supreme rulers of the universe. Every creature knows that immortality does not exist, for the stars are cruel. So then why does everybody keep existing? Is there purpose in a life that is destinied to end? What a silly question. Of course there is, for even a mayfly makes a difference. Every movement every species furthers entropy, but it also fills the void that has been there before. Every movement of every species creates a memory that will be forever remembered by the universe, even as atoms disintegrate into energy.

    The beautiful sunsets of the Earth may fade into nothingness when the Sun consumes its last hydrogen atoms, but the species that have looked fondly upon them will remember these sunsets. The species that once inhabited the world that was consumed by its own star will be, in turn, remembered by the charred remains of the planet. The charred remains of the planet will be picked up by the nearest colony, and upon seeing them, people will weep. Oh how fragile beauty is, they will say. Oh how transient and eternal were the sunsets of the Earth, but still, it faded away. Oh how meaningless our lives are, but we must carry on, for the universe will remember us. The universe will know that we existed, it will know that we have fought against it, and ultimately perished.

    The beautiful gardens of New Atlantis, filled with Japanese Sakura that were barely saved from extinction, may be purged by an orbital bombardment, but the people of the planet will still remember them. They will remember those beautiful, pink petals that slowly fell to the ground. They will remember those beautiful, small buds that blossomed into short-lives flowers, yet they shined with such radiance that they can not forget them. They will remember that in the centre of the gardens, stood a magnificent fountain that sprayed water as high as the sky. And even if another species comes, and rips those who remember, then the ashes of the fallen will be picked up by the solar winds to the next planet. There, they will descend into the hands of the still living, who will weep at their lack of power. They will weep at their inability to act. They will weep because they can not do anything but weep. However, they will still remember the gardens of New Atlantis.

    The magnificent and ridiculously tall skyscrapers of Arien may fall victim to decay, but the species that abandoned them still remembers them. They still remember the sight of metal structures that reach the sky, the mirror-like surfaces that reflected light, almost blinding them. Rust may corrode the foundations of these buildings, but they will live on forever in the minds of those who constructed them, those who maintained them, and those who admired them. Even if infighting destroys all those who remember the skyscrapers of Arien, the debris left from the battle will drift across the stars and they will be discovered by scavengers. Upon discovering the debris, the scavengers will be reminded of their mortality. They will be reminded of their harsh lives that forced them to salvage other ships. And most importantly, amongst the debris, they will see the long-gone skyscrapers, forever passing the memory on.

    The expansive plains of the harshly-named L-1127 may be consumed by ever-expanding cities, and cold, lifeless machinery, but the species that built these cities will never forget the sight of the open sky. Lighting may pollute the atmosphere, it may make the stars fade into the cacophony of photons, but it can never wash the memories away. The slow, gradual extinction of the builders will leave the cities empty, yet the metal that they built will remember the plains forever. And when explorers land on the long-forgotten planet which was abandoned by all, they will see the blue skies covered by millions of ruins that lead them to the one spot that remained free of cities. There, they will take the memory of the open sky into their hearts, then pass it along to their younglings, never letting the universe forget those plains.

    And even if the fires of hatred and intrigue burn the sacred scrolls on Kasiils, there will always be one elder who has memorised them, and will pass them on. The elder will teach the knowledge of the sacred scrolls to the young who are willing to listen, to the young who are willing to create their own sacred scrolls. But even if the elder and the young ones fade away, and the scrolls are burned once more, the teachings will always remain. They will live on in the very species that created them, they will live on in subtle gestures and traditions, the origins of which nobody knows. Yet as the species tries to figure out its own origins, it can not help but remember the sacred scrolls that taught them how to command themselves. The species can not help but remember the elder that started spreading the teachings. The species can not help but remember the students.

    Eventually, all memories will fade into mere energy, but even then, they will not be gone. They will still live on in the past of the universe, in the ever-present energy created by entropy. And just as these memories live on, so will the species that created them. Their vast starships will forever drift across the stars, waiting for the signal to awaken their memories, lurking within the depths of the universe so that they may create new memories.
  3. Light fluttering wings of small birds fly off all at once to the bright blue sky they hadn’t seen in quite a while. A woman in black stares after them a smile on her face attempting to hide her trembling lip. Her eyes are clear as silver pools and slowly she turns away from the gold, and intricately carved cage. Her footsteps disturb the loose grey gravel as she walks down the path in the forest to the small cottage at the top of the hill. Green light touches her face from sun lit leaves while shadows mask the rest.</SPAN></SPAN>

    Her husband had been gone for three days, she had been told he would not come home again. Three years he’d been called to battle and had come home, three years she had waved goodbye to him as he joined his men. She did not want to say goodbye to him this last time. A part of her knew he would not return, not because of the sense of dread in her stomach but his words as they parted. He himself had not thought of returning home, how could she think any different? </SPAN></SPAN>

    Standing frozen on the front step she gazed out to the path behind her and up to the fading shadows of the tiny birds she sent to guide her husband to the peace he needed. It was her last sign of love, the last thing she could do for him. A withered hand touched her shoulder and she smiled at the old woman at her side. She would get through this, her family and friends would help her through this. Many of them had lost someone close to them, in the massacre that was her husband’s final stand.</SPAN></SPAN>
  4. Luanna and Tuaga. Two men, two tribes, one forbidden love. Forbidden not only for their sex, but also for their tribes. The tribes are in forever conflict, and they know of them. It's strange how two hated enemies will come together to be the end of something between them that is all but that same hate. As the two of them meet in the forest, their sacred place, they know that their tribes are hunting for them. That when they are found, they will be killed. Mercilessly cut down before their own families for a hate that they do not share.

    Chests pound, lips press, words speak. And blades clash. Refusing to be separated by their tribes, they put their love and their loss into their own hands. Denying their tribes one final time. Luanna was always the stronger of the two, but it is he who falls prey to Tuaga's blade. Tuaga mourns. Their arrangement, that the winner be responsible for both their deaths. The stronger would prevail, the heart would not be as weary. But they were both weak in their sense of each other.

    Tuaga rests, his back pressed against a rock he'd laid against several times during their love. Luanna rests in his lap, pressed tightly against his chest, taking refuge in his final moments with his forbidden lover.

    And then the canvas of their love begins to run red with blood. The blade slices through Luanna's neck. Blood mingles with tears upon his chest, a mixture of copper and salt. Tuaga looks up as her father pushes through the trees into their sacred place. His expression holds anger, confusion and twisted hatred, even for one he loves so much as well. Tuaga stares into her eyes and smiles.

    "My Father, for I love him so, I will not let you take what belongs to him. My life is forfeit." came cry-choked final words. The blade runs clean across his neck, barely completing its stroke before its wielder goes limp, arm wrapped tightly around his lifeless lover.
  5. "Our world is dying......Our oceans shrink in size and depth each cycle, our skies becoming more and more toxic with each passing day. Our earth, once fruitful darkly colored and lush, is now becoming a harsh red desert. Every Cycle, we see the pristine tranquility of our neighboring blue world, and we ask ourselves why they thrive while we perish. Our leaders have grown jealous of this Blue world, now more so in our final cycles, they've sent a group to this world, and we have yet to hear any reports from them, that was over one hundred cycles ago, and yet no one has attempted to find a cure for what is poisoning our world into the crimson desert it is becoming.

    We have eliminated our use of fossil fuels, we've eliminated our pollution and yet still this world suffers, we have come to the conclusion that our only hope is to leave our home, in the hopes that we may settle a new world and this time, preserve it for future generations of our people. The Fourth World is doomed, This message is being recorded with the sentiment that whoever finds it, no matter what species, temperament or home planet, will use it as a method for teaching. Not about the culture of our species, but for the purpose of teaching yourselves about the consequences of abusing the resources your world bestows you.

    In all likelihood, our Species will never meet the discoverers of this record as our kind will likely have gone extinct before this is discovered. We inhabited the fourth planet orbiting a large yellow sun, neighboring us is a blue world very much in contrast to the red world our mistakes have caused our home to become. As a collective our species shares only one regret, that we were never truly able to meet other species, that we became the cause of our own demise, that we didn't recognize our errors in judgment sooner. If You are reading this Message, we ask that you honor it, to keep our memory alive, in the scenario that we do not find a new world to call home.

    Respect your planet, and make sure your species doesn't make the same mistake we have."

    "Is that what that says?" Called a voice digitally distorted by the receiver inside the helmet of a man, a human man.

    "Yeah, sorry it took so long to translate, Martian is pretty difficult language to put into words we can comprehend, but I think that's pretty much the gist of what the glyphiforms translate to at least roughly." The man said into his helmet set microphone.

    "Well let's get some more photos of these ruins and the glyphiforms and get back to the base, we're starting the dig into the metal construct tomorrow morning early."

    "Got it Boss."
  6. An old man descended the steps from his home in the woods. He walked down to the small brook that was nearby. It is almost my time. And I haven't even passed on my art yet. The man's dark eyes flickered with grief. Haven't passed it on. With a sudden movement, he leaped over the river. His face was slightly pained, yet calm. He walked further downstream where the brook widened. It stopped at a tranquil pool. He bent over and took off his sandals. Then he walked onto the water, closing his eyes. He sprang up on one foot, only the tip of his right toe touched the water. He was bent forwards with his left foot out straight behind him. He swung his left foot forward and then back with enough force to throw him off balance. But this is what he planned, for at the same moment, he crossed his arms over his chest and ducked into a mid-air roll. He landed on his toes once more. Master, I am coming. I'll be with you soon. His expression turned completely calm and relaxed. He executed a number of other moves. Although must often on his toe tips, he occasionally used his finger tips as well. He finished by resting on three fingers and falling back til he was standing upright, flat footed, in the middle of the pool. He shifted back to his toe tip as he raised a leg.
    He clapped, and dropped into the water. When he fell in, there were no bubbles, and very little sound. It had been the same way with his Master many years before. He never did reach the bottom. His essence had dispersed before then. It was given to the dragons, to make more water-walkers, and so they did. He had not completely disrupted the cycle. For on that day, another Walker, a very gifted one at that, was born.