Underground - Writersdream (top books of all time .TXT) 📗

There is a story; however, it is not the kind to find on an abandoned shelf, nor to find tucked into a hidden box in the attic, or to suddenly come across. It is not known to have a beginning or an end. It is not a story of our world, but a story of between worlds, a tale that is passed down from a legend, to a myth, or a shadow of a memory. It is a story that is not known to our world, not even the greatest of minds could have heard of it. It is only meant for the ones it chooses, for between the slips of the cover, magic flows from the pages that bind the book. The ink black words flow in wonder, revealing the world they create.
Most of the world likes to believe magic is real, perhaps it is, but not the kind where it blows on a whim. It chooses whom to bless and whom to curse. It can not tamed, it can never be commanded, it is as wild as the wind, and harsh as a burning flame. Some might say it is fate that directs our destiny, while others consider it a coincidence, but those who look under the surface a more powerful force lies underneath. The Book is all this and more, a boundless, tameless, never ending story, filled to the brim with the supernatural. Its small, red cover and gold lettered title is its mask, for it looks just the ordinary; small, old, battered, and its yellow pages torn in places; but then nothing is as it seems.
Most people look at the surface and take for granted for what it seems. The Book was meant for one to look underneath its cover and discover a world that was never known. It's a story of a world somewhere between imaginary and reality, a place that could never be taken for granted, for something always lies underneath its surface, always waiting for the moment to spring.
The world, known as the Underground, has Magic flowing from the ground and thriving in the air. Nothing in this enchanted place can be taken for what it seems, for the most enchanting, most beatifically facility is the most dehumanizing fable. It is a place full of wishes and dreams, yet, full of nightmares and horror; the loveliest flower, a deadly poison, a breath taking jewel, a dagger in ones heart.
The story begins with the land known as the Labyrinth. It is known as the nightmare itself; for every turn, every twist may lead into a fetal solitude. It leads on into eternity and beyond, the walls forever changing. The center of this maze was the final trap, for once, by a chance of luck, could one make their way into the center, one could never escape. But this Labyrinth was more than stone walls, a crumbling, deceiving rectory to destroy ones path, it is more than a Labyrinth; more than a wonderland; it is more. It is power, a living element, a mix between wonder and horror. The story says it is the symbol of a man's heart. But all stories, even the greatest, all start with one simple sentence, it all starts with, Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time, there in the Labyrinth, lay the Castle beyond the Goblin Kingdom. Where little monsters walk the desert land of the Underground. Their hideous little faces always laughing and sneering. Though not the brightest of creatures, and on occasion stumble across their own feet, they are fierce in their ways. Their slimy green and brown skin is like the armor they wear, hard as rock but disgusting to touch. Their eyes are a dark, insidious, gaze that leaves one fumbling over his feet. Yet, their small minds can hardly comprehend the word 'horror.' You see, all is a joke to them, nothing but a laugh. Though, frightening at times, their silly ways and strange talk were their best demeanor.
However, there was only one who could make the goblins shake with fear. For high above the walls of this Labyrinth lies the castle that looms over the kingdom in a dreary shadow; its towers and archways full of mirth and fear. It stands on a incrusted mountain, where ominous grey clouds sway above the highest tower. The shadow of the castle brings one onto shaking knees, frightened of the appalling sight. But it is the man inside these abandoned halls that makes one tremble with fear.
His unearthly face is as cold as stone, the sound of his foot falls brings ice to a burning fire. He is a man not known to our world, for he is always hiding in the darkest of shadows, watching and waiting. A cruel man that mocks at one's agony, laughs at one's tears, and threatens at one's plea; he is a darkness in the light. He rules over the land with a harsh hand, spoiled and arrogant as he is, he refuses a single kindness. He is the king over goblins, over magic, over the land of the Underground.
As the story goes, the King had let a young girl travel through his Labyrinth, for she had made a wish, a terrible wish that the King had granted, for somehow, despite the coldness of his heart, he had fallen in love with the girl. But if the girl could travel and solve the Labyrinth within the thirteenth hour, she would be set free. The King scoffed when she declared she could solve the dangers, and concur the hardships unnumbered.
He laughed when she cried for help, scoffed when she failed to take the right turn, jeered at her cries of triumph. He frowned as she solved the riddles, and glowered when she made her way to the gates of the City, he growled with anger when she escaped his army of goblins. Wrath, trembled in his fingers as she made her way to his castle. Fear crossed his face as she confronted him. He begged her to not say the words that would be his fetal ending. But she was strong, proud, and brave. With The Words, she conquered the King, brought him to his knees at her feet. And with a cry of agony, he disappeared. No one knows where he went, or that if he is alive, but he no longer hides in the shadows, nor threatens the night with nightmares. But, perhaps he is still there, waiting for a revenge to renew his little game. But he will never win, no, never again will triumph be his.

Publication Date: 04-08-2012

All Rights Reserved