p style="text-align: center;" /p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: center;"span style="font-size: 26.661px; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; color: #666666; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"Prelude #6/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"The pain, it's excruciating. I've never felt so broken, at least, I think I haven't. I can't remember anything before now. But, this pain isn't physical, it's mental. I feel a gaping hole in my memory, and my head, it hurts./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"Eventually, the pain ebbs, and I'm calm once again. I realize that I'm alone, but there are guns floating in front of me. I grab them and immediately know that they belong to me. After a quick inspection, I find that these guns are golden in color and resemble the look of M1911's, with adjusted grips and a seemingly empty clip./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;""Find yourself, in the memories of others..." After hearing the voice I pull the triggers on both multiple times, firing one after the other, in multiple directions, and finding that they shoot blue beams of energy, rather than bullets. Finally, silence follows, and I take the time to examine my surroundings./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"Beneath me is a broken and decrepit altar, pieces falling into the void around me. The mural is heartbreaking, the pictures are faded, the colors are bland and washing away, and the person in the mural, is laying there. Face down, and appeared lifeless. However, he was the only thing in the mural that was clear, that had color, that had even the smallest twinge of life left. He wore a dull red raincoat, with jagged blue lines running across it, black pants that seemed to fade into gray, and blue shoes that were worn and tattered at the base. His hair was matted down from what appeared to be water, and he had pale skin, as if he, like the rest of the mural, was close to death. /span/p
p style="text-align: center;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"After witnessing this, I tore my eyes away from the altar and dove off the edge. I couldn't stand it there anymore. I couldn't take the sorrow that the mural depicted. I had to leave, and I did. Falling into the void, like the edges of the altar, I began to fall asleep, and held myself as the pain began to overcome me once again. /span/p
p style="text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"_/span/p
p style="text-align: left;"span style="font-family: Arial;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px;"Afternote:/span/span/p
p style="text-align: left;"span style="font-family: Arial;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px;"Just to let you know, I'm doing these uploads on my phone and will go back and fix any weird formatting on the computer later. Also, this is the final prelude and actually depicts the first character we're starting out with on this story. /span/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: center;"span style="font-size: 26.661px; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; color: #666666; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"Prelude #6/span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"The pain, it's excruciating. I've never felt so broken, at least, I think I haven't. I can't remember anything before now. But, this pain isn't physical, it's mental. I feel a gaping hole in my memory, and my head, it hurts./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"Eventually, the pain ebbs, and I'm calm once again. I realize that I'm alone, but there are guns floating in front of me. I grab them and immediately know that they belong to me. After a quick inspection, I find that these guns are golden in color and resemble the look of M1911's, with adjusted grips and a seemingly empty clip./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;""Find yourself, in the memories of others..." After hearing the voice I pull the triggers on both multiple times, firing one after the other, in multiple directions, and finding that they shoot blue beams of energy, rather than bullets. Finally, silence follows, and I take the time to examine my surroundings./span/p
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"Beneath me is a broken and decrepit altar, pieces falling into the void around me. The mural is heartbreaking, the pictures are faded, the colors are bland and washing away, and the person in the mural, is laying there. Face down, and appeared lifeless. However, he was the only thing in the mural that was clear, that had color, that had even the smallest twinge of life left. He wore a dull red raincoat, with jagged blue lines running across it, black pants that seemed to fade into gray, and blue shoes that were worn and tattered at the base. His hair was matted down from what appeared to be water, and he had pale skin, as if he, like the rest of the mural, was close to death. /span/p
p style="text-align: center;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"After witnessing this, I tore my eyes away from the altar and dove off the edge. I couldn't stand it there anymore. I couldn't take the sorrow that the mural depicted. I had to leave, and I did. Falling into the void, like the edges of the altar, I began to fall asleep, and held myself as the pain began to overcome me once again. /span/p
p style="text-align: left;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px; font-family: Arial; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; background-color: transparent;"_/span/p
p style="text-align: left;"span style="font-family: Arial;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px;"Afternote:/span/span/p
p style="text-align: left;"span style="font-family: Arial;"span style="font-size: 22.5593px;"Just to let you know, I'm doing these uploads on my phone and will go back and fix any weird formatting on the computer later. Also, this is the final prelude and actually depicts the first character we're starting out with on this story. /span/span/p