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Date Posted: 16:25:39 06/14/04 Mon
Author: Rache
Subject: Shadows

Rache was not his real name. His real name was his own, his own to keep. He entered the tavern, and stopped dead. Green eyes saw not what was there, but what they had seen so long ago- people, chatting merrily, laughing, talking, drinking. Now the tavern was in disrepair, with beasts sitting clustered around cracked and stained tables. Sitting down on a moth-eaten armchair, next to an empty fireplace, Rache stared.

Alas.

That was all he could think; alas, alas that so great a place could be set from so high to so low. He scanned for a familiar face. Not one in sight.

Where are they all? They are now no more than shadows... shadows of the past.

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