It sat dangling before him. A great treasure. So many sought to find it, and bring it back for their own, but he was the first. The first to lay his eyes upon its beauty. The first to feel the warmth it seemed to give off. Shimmering in the dimmed light of his oil lantern, which may soon run out. He didn't worry about his light. He knew his way out. And he wanted more time to admire the beauty. The beauty of something so rare. Something that so many had thought was lost long ago. It told him a kind of truth, a story. The tale of how it had been tossed from freedom. How it had been confined, deep inside such a dark place. Now it was all his. He would be the sole owner of it's wonder.1
Sadly it was this greatness. This mystery. that kept him from reaching out and taking it. For so long it had provided inspiration. So many men and women had written about it. Told of it's greatness, the mystery it held, and the fortune it could provide. Somewhere deep inside, something told him this was more than all that had been told. Worth more than maybe life itself.2
It was this mystery that had brought him here. Their tales of greatness that had inspired him. Made him what he was. A man of adventure. A man who sought to know the truth. His passion for mystery had brought him here, to stand before it. He had spent the greater part of his short life searching, and now that it was here. Rite in front of him. He could not bring himself to reach out and take it.3
His lantern soon went out, and as more and more light was lost, he began to draw into the darkness. His craving to know had brought him here, among such greatness. He stared into insanity, several times pleading with himself to leave. But the draw of the greatest treasure on earth consumed him. His whole being was drawn to it. It captured more than his imagination. It had captured his heart and soul.4
And as the last of his life left him, he discovered what this mystery was. It was not the beauty, or the fortune it brought. It was not about the fame, or the greatness. It was something more. It kept him there. No reasoning. Only because it drew him in, somehow making him feel special. That he should be the only one, to gaze upon such greatness.5
Author notes
I have way to much time on my hands
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
-
You flippin rock cuz you know how these things work. It's so awsome how you get it
-
Ah, this is quite good. The best part for mw was the narration. How you tell the tale, it's tone. You keep the reader looking toward the end, wondering about the secret. And of course you leave enough to the imagination so we can decide for ourselves what that treasure is. Maybe it is simply a beautiful treasure, but maybe is it more, a symbol of man's hopes and desires, that essence that makes us human. It is this quality of your story that makes it work, makes a thinking person smile as they read it.
Well done!
Adding your comment:
