The silent, sacred moon floated above the earth, serene in its beauty as its brothers, the stars, twinkled down upon the earth, treating the watchful passer-by to a most wonderful show. Not a breeze was felt outside; no troublesome mutts ran the streets, barking and causing general discontent; the wise old owl sat perched in his tree, monitoring his dominion, taking note of the changes that had occurred whilst he slept. Silence and peace was omnipotent in this land, so very far away.
Two gentlemen enjoyed this peace in a grand mansion set upon a cliff overlooking the sea. They lounged in the drawing room, content with their lives and accomplishments. This room, although not the largest room in the house, was still a very comfortable size, allowing the men to relax in genteel abundance. The floor was of the most wonderful walnut; in the center of the room, a single diamond was made within the wood, and, radiating out from it, a whole series of these diamonds covered the entire floor. The walls, being of the same dark wood, stretched up to that of the height of almost three men. Along the doorways and about the room ornate carvings decorated the wood, depicting hunting scenes, autumn evenings, wonderful castles from Europe, rushing waterfalls from the jungles of Asia. Old maps of lands that only the master of the house knew of were framed upon the walls, showing the passing guest fantastic places, thousands of miles away. The ceiling had been painted to look like a midsummer's day sky, with fluffy clouds scattered across the blue. A fireplace sat in the corner, happily burning several logs within its womb. The flames had died low, as of late, though the den was still quite warm—not too hot, but not cold enough to require feeding the hungry fire any more wood. Upon the mantle above the fireplace hung a great rack of antlers, doubtless one of the biggest a man would ever see. An ivory horn hung below this, along with an old, antiqued shotgun. A bearskin rug lay before the fire, accompanied by three plush and cushioned chairs. The great hunter who had harvested those amazing antlers had also captured the bear from which this wonderful rug was made. A small bar, a hemisphere of mahogany, jutted out from the near-by wall, housing all of the most delicate liquors—such things as vintage bourbon from England; rugged scotch from the Scottish highlands; Cognac from the rolling plains of France.
Across the room, away from the warming fire, book shelves lined the walls. Hundreds upon hundreds of old volumes were kept here—books on philosophy, on science, on mathematics, on religion—on everything a body would care to read about, if one had the time. An old, dusty couch sat lonely in the dark, not having been sat on in quite a few years. Two chairs, neither cushioned nor by any means comfortable, were situated about a chess table, where a game had been underway before the sun had set. Now, with not enough light, the players had had to leave the game as it was—the next morning, they were sure to finish, playing just as slowly and carefully as they had earlier that day.
One of the men stood over the board, hands clasped behind his back. The other was fixing himself a drink across the room. That man called: "Care for a drink? There's some fantastic brandy here that I'm sure you'd like."
"I think not," this man called back. "Drinking leads to nothing but embarrassing mistakes and a sore head in the morning."
"Ah, well your loss, friend!" The gentleman sipped at his drink for a moment, then went to rest in one of the chairs about the fire. Over there, the room was bathed in an orange light that promised solace and warmth. On the other side of the room, the light failed, and the blue tinge of darkness enveloped the place. The orange man spoke: "I do so love this chair. So comfortable, it is! Verily, I could lay back and sleep the day away in pleasure, in this chair."
The blue man spoke gruffly. "Time is not to be wasted. Lazing about all day will get you nowhere in life."
An airy laugh escaped the orange man's throat. The spirits burned, but slid all the way down to his core to warm him. "Come now, join me in this drink! You have not the slightest idea as to how wonderful it feels when it drips down into your soul!" He tinkled the glass, inviting the other man to come over.
"I told you once—drinking is wrong. There's nothing to gain from it," came the reply. The blue man was getting annoyed at this point. "Why don't you join me over here? There's a wonderful game of chess to be played, or you could even take one of these dusty old tomes off the wall, and begin reading! Come, are you not interested in the least about Aristotle and Plato, or Pythagoras, or Descartes?"
"Bah! I've no time for such ponderings. Besides, I know not of any of those men you listed, and, frankly, don't give a damn." The firelight played in Orange's eyes. "But would you look at that! Fire never ceases to amaze a man, does it? Always changing, always morphing into such beautiful shapes…" He was lost in the playful flames, a faint grin upon his face.
Taking a seat at one of the chess chairs, Blue sighed, looking across the room. "You know you shouldn't daydream like that. A mind goes to waste when it ponders upon such things. Besides, fire is dangerous and unruly—it can't be controlled forever. Best stay away from it, I say."
The warning slid off of the other man's interest. He stood of a sudden, tossing the half-emptied glass over his shoulder. It crashed against the floor, sending glass and brandy spraying across the floor. A wild look of joy glinted in Orange's wide eyes. "Ah! but look at this rug!" He quickly took his slippers off, tossing them away, one landing in the fire. Wiggling his toes into the silky bear fur, he giggled in delight. "This feels so good! Ah, just think what it would feel like to lay upon this rug naked!" He shivered at the thought. "Oh! And to make love on it would be absolute ecstasy!"
The shadowed man leapt out of his chair. "What in the blazes are you doing? Your slipper is on fire, you know!" He took a step forward. "And that glass! There're shards of it everywhere now! What if someone steps on a piece? Their feet will be lacerated!" At the fire, the other man was now lying down on the rug, rolling around in its softness. "Now stop that! You're behaving like a child, don't you know!"
Like a wild beast from a mysterious land depicted in the framed maps, the orange man stood. His hackles were raised, his arms tense, his figure hunched. He let loose a scream that chilled the other man's blood, and ran across the room. He grabbed the chess table, flinging the pieces everywhere as he picked it up. His eyes were glowing with a red tinge, violence emanating outward from his entire being. He raised the table above his head, and brought it down upon one of the chairs. Wood splintered everywhere, showering both men. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!" he bellowed, out of control in his rage. He threw the table across the room, knocking over the cushioned chairs in one toss. He rushed to the nearest book shelf and ripped the books out, tearing the pages asunder when he paused enough to do so.
Standing there, frightened, the other man could do nothing but watch the violence.
This side of the room was littered with destroyed books and the fragments of what used to be the old couch and the chess table by the time the raging man quit his rampage. "Ah, well I do admit that was a spot of fun!" he said as he crossed back to the fire.
"What in the bloody hell are you thinking?! The books…! The chess table…! The chairs…!" Not able to express his outrage, Blue spread his arms. "This is unacceptable! You can't do things like this—it's just plain wrong!" The man at the fire laughed gaily, not hearing what the other had said, not caring that he missed it either.
So another night passed by in the mansion, much like all the other nights it experienced. In the morning, after the two gentlemen had slept and servants had cleaned the den, everything resumed to normality like it always had. Come night, though, the same arguments ensued, the same events unfolded as they had for all time. The two gentlemen in the drawing room did their duty—not knowing it to be part of a greater scheme, but only feeling it to be natural. They lived in ignorance, forever contending with each other.
A/N: Mmmm, sweet, sweet symbolism. If you didn't catch quite all that, let me know (either in a review or a PM), and I can explain some of the things in this chapter.