Post by paris on Jun 24, 2007 19:28:09 GMT -5
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The coffins were merely for show, out of tradition. The bodies inside were nothing but mere fragments, not even distinguishable traces of the ever smiling, laughing faces of what the boys used to be. They were said to have gone down as heroes, but what good had it done? Two more, dead, fighting for what everyone was calling a lost cause. But the opposition was destructive, ruthless, and merciless. They were on their own twisted mission and they were getting what they wanted. People are afraid to go outside. They are afraid to get the paper in the morning, afraid to go to work, to buy groceries. Everyone is hulled away. There’s nothing left in the world. And yet they fought, just as countless others that had and just as countless others, they, too, lost their lives.
“I’ve forgotten what color the sky used to be,” said a voice deep with sorrow, as he and many others walked away from the matching graves of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, two men lost in yet another of the hundreds of death eater attacks.
The sky has taken on a permanent shade of gray and a thick fog seems to envelop the entire world. A gloom clings to the wizarding world that could only be explained by the looming figurehead of their apparent future: Lord Voldemort. It is a simple childhood nickname that brings forth terror in the hearts and minds of everyone with knowledge of his deeds. A murderer, a sadist, and by the way things are going, the wizarding world’s future king.
Death has become fickle, curious. People have become used to death. They are used to their neighbors going missing and their sad, private funerals. These things no longer seem like the far-off, unreal, ‘for other people’ ideas that they used to be. It has become a part of everyday life. But death is not something to be put off, to be shoved between headlines. In this city, this country, death has become almost trivial, but when it changes, when the tables turn… that is when things become difficult. It becomes something that is not laid out in clear black and white, as it should be. Death has become a person, a monster, and the rules no longer seem to apply.
There’s nowhere left to run, and certainly nowhere left to hide. Everyone is changing, and the world is growing anxious. Your neighbor could be your enemy. Your best friend, your wife. Nothing remains the same, and there is nothing for anyone to hold onto. The world is scared, scared for what has happened and scared for what is yet to come. No one can be certain of anything, anymore, not even the facets of death. What little hope once glimmered distantly in the future seems to have been wiped out by the ever-present fog that sickly clings to the world as a constant reminder of what uncertainties lay ahead.
The only shred of hope, the struggling Order of the Phoenix is nothing in comparison to the fast growing efforts of the Death Eaters. Nothing the Order does seems to be able to put even the slightest dent in Lord Voldemort’s proverbial army. With their numbers dwindling quickly, there seems to be nothing they can do to help. Even their strongest members become weak as everyone’s worst fears become reality. Friend turning on friend, enemies running to their rescue. The world is in a constant state of chaos and there seems to be nothing anyone can do to stop it.
Change is imminent. Things will not continue on as they are for very long. There are two obvious choices. Lord Voldemort will win, and the world will crumble beneath him in his ultimate plan for the purification of wizarding blood, and the Order will be defeated. Or, on the slimmest chance possible, the Order of the Phoenix finds a way to bring peace back to the world of chaos. If it is at all possible, they will vanquish the terror that haunts everyone. As unlikely as it seems, it is the world’s only hope as it struggles to keep afloat.
Only time will tell, and it will all unfold in THE FINAL HOUR.[/size]
[/align]The coffins were merely for show, out of tradition. The bodies inside were nothing but mere fragments, not even distinguishable traces of the ever smiling, laughing faces of what the boys used to be. They were said to have gone down as heroes, but what good had it done? Two more, dead, fighting for what everyone was calling a lost cause. But the opposition was destructive, ruthless, and merciless. They were on their own twisted mission and they were getting what they wanted. People are afraid to go outside. They are afraid to get the paper in the morning, afraid to go to work, to buy groceries. Everyone is hulled away. There’s nothing left in the world. And yet they fought, just as countless others that had and just as countless others, they, too, lost their lives.
“I’ve forgotten what color the sky used to be,” said a voice deep with sorrow, as he and many others walked away from the matching graves of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, two men lost in yet another of the hundreds of death eater attacks.
The sky has taken on a permanent shade of gray and a thick fog seems to envelop the entire world. A gloom clings to the wizarding world that could only be explained by the looming figurehead of their apparent future: Lord Voldemort. It is a simple childhood nickname that brings forth terror in the hearts and minds of everyone with knowledge of his deeds. A murderer, a sadist, and by the way things are going, the wizarding world’s future king.
Death has become fickle, curious. People have become used to death. They are used to their neighbors going missing and their sad, private funerals. These things no longer seem like the far-off, unreal, ‘for other people’ ideas that they used to be. It has become a part of everyday life. But death is not something to be put off, to be shoved between headlines. In this city, this country, death has become almost trivial, but when it changes, when the tables turn… that is when things become difficult. It becomes something that is not laid out in clear black and white, as it should be. Death has become a person, a monster, and the rules no longer seem to apply.
There’s nowhere left to run, and certainly nowhere left to hide. Everyone is changing, and the world is growing anxious. Your neighbor could be your enemy. Your best friend, your wife. Nothing remains the same, and there is nothing for anyone to hold onto. The world is scared, scared for what has happened and scared for what is yet to come. No one can be certain of anything, anymore, not even the facets of death. What little hope once glimmered distantly in the future seems to have been wiped out by the ever-present fog that sickly clings to the world as a constant reminder of what uncertainties lay ahead.
The only shred of hope, the struggling Order of the Phoenix is nothing in comparison to the fast growing efforts of the Death Eaters. Nothing the Order does seems to be able to put even the slightest dent in Lord Voldemort’s proverbial army. With their numbers dwindling quickly, there seems to be nothing they can do to help. Even their strongest members become weak as everyone’s worst fears become reality. Friend turning on friend, enemies running to their rescue. The world is in a constant state of chaos and there seems to be nothing anyone can do to stop it.
Change is imminent. Things will not continue on as they are for very long. There are two obvious choices. Lord Voldemort will win, and the world will crumble beneath him in his ultimate plan for the purification of wizarding blood, and the Order will be defeated. Or, on the slimmest chance possible, the Order of the Phoenix finds a way to bring peace back to the world of chaos. If it is at all possible, they will vanquish the terror that haunts everyone. As unlikely as it seems, it is the world’s only hope as it struggles to keep afloat.
Only time will tell, and it will all unfold in THE FINAL HOUR.[/size]