It was a calm day continuously cast from grey to clear, a kind of battle between those two lateral elements. One gaining ground then just as quickly as it was taken the other element encroached.

The trees were lifeless and possessed nearly no character that day, so if a man ventured into a forest he would feel entirely alone and paranoid; continuously casting glances over his shoulder. Their branches seemed to be hollow appendages that were placed out of some grey, upright sculpture. Their rubbery leaves didn’t feel like the healthy wax of life but heavily synthetic, almost identical to the texture of artificial plants. The ground seemed hollow and dry, it didn’t seem parched as it felt like there wasn’t any moister in the soil to begin with.

Today was the day, it was in her pocket wrapped in linen. They wouldn’t expect me of lying about such trivial matters, “good morning, I’m not concealing anything, I’m genuine, I’m am not lying.” They made the system with so many statements and confessions concerning the value of the individual’s worth it was hard and difficult to bypass it, with only three chances of concealment in your life. She would stand at least two paces away from the man, moving her mouth profusely to feign words and oaths. Drowned out by the crush and loud noise at the time, hopefully the guard would be tired and wary and surrounded by the building’s numerous intake of people. If there was an already fresh and attentive guard beginning a shift she would have to journey back to her abode, to complete her morning routine and be welcomed by the guard again. She felt her shoes’s noise on the pavement and became suddenly self-conscious; she would have to act calm yet not relaxed, aware yet not attentive. She felt her hand press on the cold glass door. She approached the guard, two paces before him. She moved her mouth convincingly. Calm yet not relaxed, aware yet not attentive.

“Are you genuine.” Then it began.

She bypassed several doors until she got into a the “Room of the Silent,” she would be asked three questions the last. Without a deathening group of unaware accomplices she would have to rely on her own words. “Do you lie to me, keeper of the gate? Are you a genuine person? Anra-Badamhada will look at you through deepest eyes.” The last one was a statement, the archaic mystery was why it would reveal you as a lier and if not it would be the expenditure of your last conniving lie.

She walked in to the vast chamber adorned with modestly ornate pillars; an alter stood at the back of the dark room with no visible light source, though everying was perceivable through some eyes which were rarely and seldom used, entirely abandoned apart from an audience with this room. The alter was a statue of a man, carved with mystery and philosophy, though it was gloomed with an air of cosmic philanthropy. It rested on tentacles that branched out curving somewhat naturally and ponderously, they were thoughtful and slow with their movements even though they weren’t in any process of articulation. Walk.

Walk he told himself, sapped and ridden of his lies he approached with “their”, arching and aware, yet calm movements. A small archaic artifact rested in his chasm like pocket that boasted its origins from the age of the great, thoughtful men who when they leaped from one branch of thought of logic to the other brought continents along with their movements. They were bonded with great black entities that moved writhing and curving, like great shadowy invertebrates. Their vision never leaving a subject, but concentrating on subjects and people, politics and objects. Their glassy orbs always held all objects they ever beheld in their peripheral. That age was gone. He placed his object into the alter, that terracotta mouldering in his mind was gone. He’ll never forget about it, he’ll never recollect, because it will be in his peripheral always. Like the mind of those ever travelling behemoths.

She placed the terracotta object into the plate shaped like some ancient, symbolic, shell. An entirely unique noise was made when the object clattered into the alter. Always in her mind this place, it would never leave, no, that wasn’t true. She betrayed her crued human mind. She would never leave it.