A Forgotten Past

• Crystal Tarrant, Grade 12, Home Schooled - WA
• Short Story
• 2012

Excellence Award in the 'Legendary 2012' competition

Arched eaves full of creeping vines. Thousands of cracks mar the seemingly smooth marble pillars. Shining white has faded to gloomy grey and soon will turn to black and crumble to dust, returning to its maker. Between the cracks of mosaic tiles, weeds appear, stretching towards the sunlight, pushing tiles even further apart. Dirt and dust covers the bright colours of long ago scenes.
Rain has seeped through the roof of green and runs in little rivulets downhill. The rain falls softly, the sky is hazy, there is a cold light mist. Drops hang precariously from pointed green leaves, suspended and still. Drops run through the pillar’s cracks, making it look as though the stone is weeping.
A forest sits behind the ancient ruins, the emerald green treetops lost to the clouds, the trunks dark from the rain soaking the bark. It is misty, hazy, like a dream. The marble arches roll back, touching the forest fringe. Puddles collect in the niches between tiles. Water droplets fall and land with a ripple and a splash. That’s all you can hear. Pitter patters, drip drops, on and on, relentlessly, like a heartbeat.
A spider’s web glistens in the corner of an arch, its inhabitant hiding as the web filled with globules that quivered and shook. Darkness pervades the gloomy old hall. A shadowy light through the open rows illuminates a patch of mossy pillar. The creeping fungus is dotted with pinks and yellows, blues and reds, all standing out from the cushy green. The moss works its way into the cracks, getting nurtured by the flowing water and flourishing in the dark.
The sun shines stronger, casting golden, dancing lights onto the lonely scene. The raindrops sparkled with a brilliant incandescence that was blinding. It was a halo of rainbows. The mist still lingers, close to the ground, reluctant to leave the warm earth. The sun’s rays began to pierce more of the clouds, shining more light on the gloomy scene. Birds begin chirping, covering up the steady plop plop of raindrops as they surrendered to gravity’s embrace. Colours began appearing in the dewy green grass as miniature flowers basked in the light. The clouds vanished. The light shone down fully on the ancient ruins. The shadows had been banished to the sides of the pillar and under the living shade.
The ruins looked out across a vast mountain range, covered in hazy blue air and housing green slopes and magnificent trees. The meadow rolled down to the rocky mountains, a halo of light in a sea of looming shadows. The ruins stood, their pride still not diminished after centuries of getting beaten at by air and water. They stood proud, yet sad, as they marked an end to the era of kings. They were alone, a relic of the past.
I stood, drinking in the sight. Ghostly specters seemed to lurk in the shadows, kept alive by distant memories. It was a hauntingly beautiful scene.