Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow --
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand --
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep -- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
--------------------------
--------------------------
╔═════════════════════════════╗
_________De Havilland D.h.114 Heron
_______________Sky Gypsy
_______06:21hours, October 17th, 1952
╚═════════════════════════════╝
on a chilled, foggy morningxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The passenger plane, Sea Gypsy, rumbles through the sky with you and a dozen others await your destinations. You're not flying far, just to the mainland, but you cannot seem to quell the sense of unease in the pit of your stomach. It's odd because you've never felt a fear of flying before. Perhaps it's the weather conditions, though the cool, suave voice of the male pilot has assured all thirteen passengers that his instruments are in fine condition and there will be no problems from the fog.
Thirteen. You look over your shoulder at the fourteenth seat, empty with a sign that reads, "Reserved". You find it odd that they would have taken the trouble to reserve a seat for someone and then taken off without them present.
"Excuse me, would you care for a refreshment?"
A sweet, feminine voice reaches your ears and you turn to see the pretty stewardess smiling with that brilliant white smile that she welcomed you onto the plane with. Her strange, violet colored eyes flicker from you as you straighten to the reserved seat, and then back to you as they crinkle into a deeper smile-touched gaze. You can see that she's been doing her rounds and has supplied each of the other passengers with some sort of tonic - clearly you are not the only one with an unsettled stomach.
"Anyt'ing to cawlm your nerves? A brandy, or just'a water? A blanket to keep t'e chill out o' your bones?" Her voice is pleasantly colored with an Irish accent, not one that you hear often anymore these days since the war drove so many foreigners from London and the parts around.
You begin to shake your head but look again at the other passengers and their own drinks. Maybe one drink would be nice after all. As if reading your mind she smiles again and nods, resting a small, well-formed hand on your shoulder before heading off to get you a drink of your own. You have a feeling that she'll know exactly what to get you and, after a few moments, you aren't wrong as she returned with a tea flavored just right. You look up to thank her but she is already moving on to the next passenger, offering a drink and asking if there is anything she needs, and you turn back to your own.
____________
You awaken, stiff, on a soft yet firm surface. It strikes you as odd almost instantly, though there is a distinct pounding on the inside of your skull and a heaviness to your eyelids that paralyzes you for a moment more before you can begin to think. One thought that does come through is that you're shivering from the cold, and you think to yourself that you ought to have asked for a blanket after all. It's the stone falling before an avalanche as a sudden tug of fear yanks free the fall of more questions and your eyes fly open. Why are you laying down, where is the sound of the plane engines, and why is it so damned quiet?
Your eyes take in your surroundings in a fraction of a heartbeat -- padded walls, a faded white that speaks of too many years without a proper wash. There are suspiciously dark spots the shape of puddles that make you wonder how they could have gotten there in a room designed to restrict self-harm. There are no windows but there is a door, just the one, and it's ajar -- Where is this place and how did you get here? What's happening to you? You move to the door, stumbling because that weight that had taken your eyelids before now bears down on your knees, your shoulders, and even your temple. Lifting your head is a chore and moving forward is like walking through water with chains wrapped about every muscle. Before you can even get to the door you are greeted with a brilliant white smile and violet eyes that now appear nothing less than sinister.
"Oi de'r, cawlm yerself. Yew don' wan' t'e doctor t'e up yer dose on dem medications. Nao, yew've been up 'ere long enough, sleep'n off yer last episode, come on doawn to t'e livin' ah'rea an' let t'e others see ye. Yew know they worry like they're yer famileh."
Her visit is brief but her words stick with you, bringing no answers but somehow calling to another part of your mind. An episode, what episode, what does she mean? Others? Where are you?
With nothing else left to do you stumble forward again, catching glimpses out of the corner of your eyes of figures, tall and imposing, and think that they must be spirits or demons, but when they move into sight they help you to stand and you see that they are dressed in medical scrubs. The stewardess, too, had been dressed in them you realize as your mind begins to clear. The strong hands leave you without giving you a glimpse of their faces and you find yourself just outside of the room, alone, in a hallway that looks more like the well-kept manor than any hospital. The floors are a deep, rich mahogany and the walls are stone. There are no pictures on the walls, nor tapestries like you had almost expected in a picturesque place such as this, but there are windows...
You move to them, passing rooms on your way that are not unlike the one you were in with the doors ajar and the white, padded walls, and fall onto the sturdy, trimmed window sill. For a moment you worry that you will fall through it but you don't and when you look up you realize there was never any fear of that - there are bars on the windows, far to narrow for any man or child to pass through, secured on from the outside. They are meant to keep you in. You turn in a mixture of horror and growing fear and face a banister that over looks what must be the center of the building, wide and spacious, and by creeping nearer you hear the growing sounds of hushed voice and music playing from somewhere. When you finally draw near enough to rest a shaking hand on the banister you see them, the others, and they see you -- they are the passengers, all of them in patient gowns now, all of you trapped here... wherever here is.
--------------------------
--------------------------
The passenger plane, Sea Gypsy, rumbles through the sky with you and a dozen others await your destinations. You're not flying far, just to the mainland, but you cannot seem to quell the sense of unease in the pit of your stomach. It's odd because you've never felt a fear of flying before. Perhaps it's the weather conditions, though the cool, suave voice of the male pilot has assured all thirteen passengers that his instruments are in fine condition and there will be no problems from the fog.
Thirteen. You look over your shoulder at the fourteenth seat, empty with a sign that reads, "Reserved". You find it odd that they would have taken the trouble to reserve a seat for someone and then taken off without them present.
"Excuse me, would you care for a refreshment?"
A sweet, feminine voice reaches your ears and you turn to see the pretty stewardess smiling with that brilliant white smile that she welcomed you onto the plane with. Her strange, violet colored eyes flicker from you as you straighten to the reserved seat, and then back to you as they crinkle into a deeper smile-touched gaze. You can see that she's been doing her rounds and has supplied each of the other passengers with some sort of tonic - clearly you are not the only one with an unsettled stomach.
"Anyt'ing to cawlm your nerves? A brandy, or just'a water? A blanket to keep t'e chill out o' your bones?" Her voice is pleasantly colored with an Irish accent, not one that you hear often anymore these days since the war drove so many foreigners from London and the parts around.
You begin to shake your head but look again at the other passengers and their own drinks. Maybe one drink would be nice after all. As if reading your mind she smiles again and nods, resting a small, well-formed hand on your shoulder before heading off to get you a drink of your own. You have a feeling that she'll know exactly what to get you and, after a few moments, you aren't wrong as she returned with a tea flavored just right. You look up to thank her but she is already moving on to the next passenger, offering a drink and asking if there is anything she needs, and you turn back to your own.
____________
You awaken, stiff, on a soft yet firm surface. It strikes you as odd almost instantly, though there is a distinct pounding on the inside of your skull and a heaviness to your eyelids that paralyzes you for a moment more before you can begin to think. One thought that does come through is that you're shivering from the cold, and you think to yourself that you ought to have asked for a blanket after all. It's the stone falling before an avalanche as a sudden tug of fear yanks free the fall of more questions and your eyes fly open. Why are you laying down, where is the sound of the plane engines, and why is it so damned quiet?
Your eyes take in your surroundings in a fraction of a heartbeat -- padded walls, a faded white that speaks of too many years without a proper wash. There are suspiciously dark spots the shape of puddles that make you wonder how they could have gotten there in a room designed to restrict self-harm. There are no windows but there is a door, just the one, and it's ajar -- Where is this place and how did you get here? What's happening to you? You move to the door, stumbling because that weight that had taken your eyelids before now bears down on your knees, your shoulders, and even your temple. Lifting your head is a chore and moving forward is like walking through water with chains wrapped about every muscle. Before you can even get to the door you are greeted with a brilliant white smile and violet eyes that now appear nothing less than sinister.
"Oi de'r, cawlm yerself. Yew don' wan' t'e doctor t'e up yer dose on dem medications. Nao, yew've been up 'ere long enough, sleep'n off yer last episode, come on doawn to t'e livin' ah'rea an' let t'e others see ye. Yew know they worry like they're yer famileh."
Her visit is brief but her words stick with you, bringing no answers but somehow calling to another part of your mind. An episode, what episode, what does she mean? Others? Where are you?
With nothing else left to do you stumble forward again, catching glimpses out of the corner of your eyes of figures, tall and imposing, and think that they must be spirits or demons, but when they move into sight they help you to stand and you see that they are dressed in medical scrubs. The stewardess, too, had been dressed in them you realize as your mind begins to clear. The strong hands leave you without giving you a glimpse of their faces and you find yourself just outside of the room, alone, in a hallway that looks more like the well-kept manor than any hospital. The floors are a deep, rich mahogany and the walls are stone. There are no pictures on the walls, nor tapestries like you had almost expected in a picturesque place such as this, but there are windows...
You move to them, passing rooms on your way that are not unlike the one you were in with the doors ajar and the white, padded walls, and fall onto the sturdy, trimmed window sill. For a moment you worry that you will fall through it but you don't and when you look up you realize there was never any fear of that - there are bars on the windows, far to narrow for any man or child to pass through, secured on from the outside. They are meant to keep you in. You turn in a mixture of horror and growing fear and face a banister that over looks what must be the center of the building, wide and spacious, and by creeping nearer you hear the growing sounds of hushed voice and music playing from somewhere. When you finally draw near enough to rest a shaking hand on the banister you see them, the others, and they see you -- they are the passengers, all of them in patient gowns now, all of you trapped here... wherever here is.
--------------------------
--------------------------
o.The first act is all but done
With only you to be the one
Seeking answers to your plight
Trapped in a prison of bloodied white
Dream the reason or live the past
Burn the truth at long last
Violet is as violence does
The cost of freedom is your cause.
╔═════════════════════════════╗
This is the story of a flight of passengers,___
thirteen,______________________
disappeared into the October fog.______
Do they escape?________________
Do they discover their kidnapper's motives?__
Are they ever seen again?________
You decide.
╚═════════════════════════════╝
With only you to be the one
Seeking answers to your plight
Trapped in a prison of bloodied white
Dream the reason or live the past
Burn the truth at long last
Violet is as violence does
The cost of freedom is your cause.
╔═════════════════════════════╗
This is the story of a flight of passengers,___
thirteen,______________________
disappeared into the October fog.______
Do they escape?________________
Do they discover their kidnapper's motives?__
Are they ever seen again?________
You decide.
╚═════════════════════════════╝
