Losing Sense of Veracity In A Lost World: A Short Story

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Losing Sense of Veracity In A Lost World: A Short Story

Within the hollow walls of the quarantined city of Veracity lies a choking fog of turmoil and beyond the twisted, dark hills, stands the man of forgotten entities. This is a man who lost his essence, lost what he was, and eventually his identity. Before this, the paths through the city were clear, the sun could shine bright and the truth could always be known. However, those days were the old days and they were the good days but now they are the forgotten days. All lost to the bitterness that has taken over the city and it’s leader.

He was a bright man, both passionate and dynamic. A bold man, whose eyes told a story and were the passage to his heart. His intensity had no words, his presence could be felt and his touch was an electric pulse – but those were the old days, the good days, the forgotten days. Now that man was certainly lost. His radiance was diffused, intensity dissolved, his eyes turned a lifeless shade of grey and his face was only capable of shedding light to his sadness. He was a changed man, miserable in his existence; he was gone, only blank stares remain.

How It Used To Be

Life used to be exciting, it used to have a purpose, there used to be a place full of vitality, Veracity used to be infectious. This place was home, it was enchanting, a blissful atmosphere existed; it was alive. Veracity was peaceful; it had no bounds, no war, no evil. It was not only a place, but a feeling and freedom was its nature. This man reigned here and he welcomed jubilance, his laughter was intoxicating. Those among him stood by loyally, they gave him life, they were his spirits; Veracity mirrored his charm.

As the season changed, happiness became an affliction and panic prevailed. Smoke became his scape goat and tranquility went ablaze, impurity took over. The clean air was tainted, spontaneity deteriorated and Veracity became dull. Nothing was exhilarating and enthusiasm died. He became isolated in this existence, in this new meaning of Veracity. He became tied to this place, tied to his pollution. This moment of revision changed him and struck the end; he fell and disappeared into the darkness. He blocked off all of his exits, cut off his support, he’s now stuck; glued to himself.

A Diamond That Always Sparkled

This man used to sparkle. He used to be a man who knew what he wanted, a man who took the first step; he was a man with meaning. A pleasant man, captivating in all his efforts, those intriguing eyes burned with affection and he stood out. He could distinguish what was good, he worked to keep it and he radiated. He deserved to smile. In the beginning, the sun could go down, but he would capture its beauty within his soul and he would embrace its warmth. Though, as the days passed and the moments of darkness got longer, he found it harder to hold on. He couldn’t see the truth anymore so he couldn’t entice the sun. He lost track of his priorities, lost track of love, he lost track of himself. 

There was a time that he protected happiness, protected love and sparked emotion. He was a man of poetic excellence, his words could flow like music, he was an honest man. But he faded, got lost within himself. He’s wasted now; he is full of darkness and the clouds rolled in to stay. His words diminished and his feelings became exhausted. There used to be chivalry; he used to rise above, he used to say no. But now he has succumbed to the demons and he sits shaded, mislead and alone. He fears reality so he slips away into a dream state where he spends most of his time. Every action made exudes uncertainty, inability; he can only light the flame.

Living Through A Broken Lens

A man who enjoys his suffering and the anguish he bestows on others. He became the carrier of treason, he’s torn Veracity apart. Murder now resides in the hollow walls; he killed off the innocence that remained. He destroyed the composure of love and now only tears are left to be treasured for their honesty. He had been a man that held high regard for inspiration, he had desire. He was empathetic and reliable, but now he is a man disconnected from emotion and a man who is broken. He is a man who feeds off of the satisfaction of causing pain, he derives himself upon confusion, he enjoys seeing others wonder and drive themselves mad as a result of his terror. This man is living in a world that is opposite to reality, the opposite of what is right. He was the essence of Veracity and now is the cause to its decay. 

What Has He Become?

He’s distant now, a grey cloud surrounds him. His eyes don’t speak volumes anymore, they only shift from side to side, he cannot focus and he cannot see what is real. His face is twisted like the hills in which he stands; dark and hollow, there is no light for him to follow. He’s been mastered by anger and paranoia, each word and motion lashes out against all that is good. His soul is frayed and growing dim, his heart is draining and his blood doesn’t pump the same. He’s got a chill; he’s become the cold draft outside. He turns everyone away. He’s removed affiliation and close ties; he can only exchange empty glares. He is nothing, he’s been left with nothing; a glass bottle filled with the ashes of his past is all that he cherishes now. 

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