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Upon a Secluded Room in a Forgotten Hour
By Valeria “Obsidian” Orrego

Tick-tock. A deeply resounding silence encompassed the secluded study so intensely that you could almost hear the ghostly ticking from the long-forgotten grandfatherly clock. It seemed to creak and crack his elderly sinews as he appeared to stretch his limbs slowly downward through the passage of the day. His rusty fingers framed his wrinkled-worn face marred by the tarnishing spots of old age that faded his features into shadows of their previous numerological grandeur. The lively sunlight of the moving day filtered through the moth-eaten drapes and clad the dull mahogany luster of his formal jacket draped heavily by a dark gray coat that gently settled through the passage of time.
The room around him appeared to stand in reverent stillness listening intently to the wisdom from its ancient elder. The aged bookcases stood scarce, looking down dejectedly upon the soiled papers that lined the floor and chairs like a discolored matted carpet of intellectual defecation. A pen’s crusty ink once poised for intellectual stimulation futilely laid dry upon the bare remains of a thought barely readable upon a lone piece of paper.
Nothing speaks; nothing breathes; nothing lives.
The hum of silence seemed to suddenly be broken by the hoarse groans from the elderly figure that even now lorded over all of what he supervised from his elevated position. Observing his kingdom with the wisdom of time upon his shoulders, he calls upon his citizens to come and hear his solemn words full of insight and honest perspective. It is in these councils that meaning can be found and examined into the overbearing hours of the night when the populace falls into the all-encompassing shadows.
A pair of old spectacles, broken beyond repair and thrown to a secluded corner of the room, looked up to the authoritative figure with sheer delight and amazement. Their dust encrusted lenses appeared to show incessant devotion to his every sound even after so many years of beholding him in the same manner. Many ascertained this to their youthful demeanor that failed to grasp the significance of his presence, having not long before beheld the sunlight filled summer’s day outside of these incarcerating walls prior to being sentenced to their decadent entrapment. They had not been the only ones; many of them had once beheld the marvels of the outside world only to be forsaken to the confinement of the shadow land, only he has never seen the glorious outside but has forever been within this prison of self-reflection.
His sour tone invoked all to hear his thoughts; the time had come once again to attend to his words. All ears are upon him with the lone exception of the lamp, with a slender frame and delectable appearance, which turns away her ears in an effort to tune out the light of his words, choosing instead to cynically berate within her mind what she did hear into a fallacious understanding that would better suit her needs. No one could bother with her, so they instead chose to ignore her completely. She was isolated; her thoughts alone could keep her company through the cold nights of eternity.