It was 5000 B.C and I was walking down a corridor awaiting a surprise around every corner. I was in the middle of a war zone, between the Greeks and the Persians. It was musky with a certain smell of despair. The rain drowned out all surrounding sound like wind that blew over a campfire. The only thing left to hear was the popping of embers which in this case was the each individual drop hitting the ground in which this war took place. Then a new sound, which I replied by turning around, Then suddenly with a flash my eyes took shelter in my skull. Then I awoke in my bed, rubbing my head, and pondering as to what I saw. My head was spinning as I went to the palace, bringing my confused brain far too unbalanced.
I walked to the table which …show more content…
“Now you can't be so so sure,” Said the person at the door “for the newest pottery is at the palace gate right now being handled by the crown and painted by no other than the same artist from before.”
I imagined my brain fighting his in which I was wounded without complexion lying on the floor. I was bleeding while he seemed to soar upon the highest floor. He obtained a weapon in hand and I was left with nothing but a piece of pottery that didn't help at all. He left the room almost empty except for me and the poet’s lore. I lost complexion outside of my imagination. I suddenly gained awareness that I was falling to the floor. I sprung my arms out to protect my unbalanced brain, but nothing more. Suddenly creating a silent clatter, I cratered to the floor.
With one open eye facing the open door, I saw the new pottery which was in the hands of the crown. The artist was walking with him. They looked directly at me and didn't seem to comprehend my stature. Then they walked over to the table the artist took his forgotten lore and placed it on the ground beside
I walked to the table which …show more content…
“Now you can't be so so sure,” Said the person at the door “for the newest pottery is at the palace gate right now being handled by the crown and painted by no other than the same artist from before.”
I imagined my brain fighting his in which I was wounded without complexion lying on the floor. I was bleeding while he seemed to soar upon the highest floor. He obtained a weapon in hand and I was left with nothing but a piece of pottery that didn't help at all. He left the room almost empty except for me and the poet’s lore. I lost complexion outside of my imagination. I suddenly gained awareness that I was falling to the floor. I sprung my arms out to protect my unbalanced brain, but nothing more. Suddenly creating a silent clatter, I cratered to the floor.
With one open eye facing the open door, I saw the new pottery which was in the hands of the crown. The artist was walking with him. They looked directly at me and didn't seem to comprehend my stature. Then they walked over to the table the artist took his forgotten lore and placed it on the ground beside