A young man appeared from under the trees. He stopped, staring before the array of wooden seats and granite ampitheater that presented itself before him. It was as grand as he had remembered; from long nights filled with laughter brought about by skits and the sound of many singing as one, their uniforms obscured in the darkness but their voices ever clear in the evening air. All the while two massive fires would burn in their pits, great torches painting the stones and hemlock with brilliant hues. So many eyes were drawn to them, gazing at the lively flames dancing across the stacked wood.
Not even ashes remained in the hearths. Nor anyone to see this young man stand in the center of the stage. Imagine them as he must, here there was no audiance for him to perform for. The benches, fasceted in their permanent spots, were all that were there to watch him. Altogether it made for a sadly majestic place, a monument to what once was. Crows flied overhead, croaking as they went, almost in mockery at the lonely man; move on. There is nothing here for you.
So he did, continuing along one of many forested paths - the woods reaching endlessly without any hint of people.
- Andrew Knight's blog
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