Chapter Nineteen: The Bridge Was Lost Awake
Were Otacon to recall the moments that followed, he would remember them only as dreams…a confused jumble of thoughts and whimsical images. He couldn't put it down like a story on paper. It was so much more than that, but as he thought about it later, he saw it all in a haze…a mesh of colors and emotions. Everything was chaos. Everything was hectic…
'There was Silence.
There was Stillness.
There was Fright here and there.
There was Burning,
There was Yearning,
There was Courage in the air.
And in the Midst there came Something,
Without Worries or any One fear.
It stepped Out like a Brave, Bright ant,
Oblivious to the fate that Lay near.
And as a being called Forward,
It's voice dark, Scratchy, and Scared.
The Something did Not slow,
But continued – he'd been Dared.
But then there was a Hell-born cry,
And a Whip of wind-swept Air.
And when the Smoke was Swept aside,
The Something was left Bare.
There was no single mark or scathe,
Not a shuddering, quivering stance.
Only where the Something had Once stood,
Was a lifeless opponent's Glance.
And as the World watched – Surprised,
Two figures Walked away.
The Something and Another,
Were en route to Heaven's Day.
And in that Next one moment,
All the Crowd had Found its faith.
And with The sound of rebel-cries,
The Bridge was Lost awake.'
…but more than hectic…everything was beautiful. The fearless hearts that rose with the spark of his companion's courage. It would be a poetic masterpiece of the will of the people and their determination. They would not let Manhattan fall to intruders, and as they pulled forth their guns and their fists, they took what was left of the bridge. That bridge was lost awake…clear to the sight of all, and with it, the spark of retaliation spread like an infection almost.
And at the start of it all…at the start of the uprising that would captivate Manhattan and overturn the balance of FACtion's once sturdy threat…was the event no one would forget.
"Sir?" a voice called. The Customer sat at attention.
"Yes?" he asked, expecting some grand news, but there was none.
"Sir…erm…a bridge…it was lost…Awake."
Silence.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I felt this scene would be best portrayed as a poetic piece. Why? Well, Otacon's own memory of the moment can tell you that, and if I were to interpret it - line by line – what sense would that make? So, if you aren't sure about this poem, ask another reader. And please, I would very much enjoy a review of this addition. Thanks. Ciao!
Were Otacon to recall the moments that followed, he would remember them only as dreams…a confused jumble of thoughts and whimsical images. He couldn't put it down like a story on paper. It was so much more than that, but as he thought about it later, he saw it all in a haze…a mesh of colors and emotions. Everything was chaos. Everything was hectic…
'There was Silence.
There was Stillness.
There was Fright here and there.
There was Burning,
There was Yearning,
There was Courage in the air.
And in the Midst there came Something,
Without Worries or any One fear.
It stepped Out like a Brave, Bright ant,
Oblivious to the fate that Lay near.
And as a being called Forward,
It's voice dark, Scratchy, and Scared.
The Something did Not slow,
But continued – he'd been Dared.
But then there was a Hell-born cry,
And a Whip of wind-swept Air.
And when the Smoke was Swept aside,
The Something was left Bare.
There was no single mark or scathe,
Not a shuddering, quivering stance.
Only where the Something had Once stood,
Was a lifeless opponent's Glance.
And as the World watched – Surprised,
Two figures Walked away.
The Something and Another,
Were en route to Heaven's Day.
And in that Next one moment,
All the Crowd had Found its faith.
And with The sound of rebel-cries,
The Bridge was Lost awake.'
…but more than hectic…everything was beautiful. The fearless hearts that rose with the spark of his companion's courage. It would be a poetic masterpiece of the will of the people and their determination. They would not let Manhattan fall to intruders, and as they pulled forth their guns and their fists, they took what was left of the bridge. That bridge was lost awake…clear to the sight of all, and with it, the spark of retaliation spread like an infection almost.
And at the start of it all…at the start of the uprising that would captivate Manhattan and overturn the balance of FACtion's once sturdy threat…was the event no one would forget.
"Sir?" a voice called. The Customer sat at attention.
"Yes?" he asked, expecting some grand news, but there was none.
"Sir…erm…a bridge…it was lost…Awake."
Silence.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I felt this scene would be best portrayed as a poetic piece. Why? Well, Otacon's own memory of the moment can tell you that, and if I were to interpret it - line by line – what sense would that make? So, if you aren't sure about this poem, ask another reader. And please, I would very much enjoy a review of this addition. Thanks. Ciao!