Capella Rising Forum short story: not finished

A dimly lit room, consumed by clutter in the form of photographs and notes converted into a graceful array of paper scraps. Where the shadow relinquishes its supreme rule you can make out a faint signature with the heading �I Love You Always.� In the corner of this inimical environment there crouches our lonely subject, knees pressed against his chest. Its lonely demeanor can not be relinquished by the constant ringing of the phone for the phone is unplugged and lies soundless on the floor, receiver detached from transmission base. Loved ones leave messages expressing there concern, these messages will never be heard. All time has ceased to exist in this room and what is now a helpless void has very likely become his tomb. What many would have considered a prosperous and thriving life has been tortured until it has reached the brink of shattering, a demolition site in the form of the human mind.
A tear falls from his eye like raindrops that descend from heaven; heavens tears bring life to nature and beauty while the tears from his eyes extend from a desire to hold an untouchable angelic beauty, a beauty that heavens rain can�t recreate. As the shadows move a paper scrap is illuminated and the faint ink is legible. It reads:
Your beauty emits
with mysterious glows
like a fountain reaching the heavens
it descends and flows
Words written for the one he loved so dear but never sent due to a recent change of address. She can no longer be found at 22 Harbor Lane, where they grew up a few houses apart, but instead at the 53rd tombstone on the cemeteries path, the place where they feared the ghosts would haunt. He has yet to go to the grave because he has yet to leave the room in which they planned to spend eternity in each other arms. Eternity cut short by the road to which it led, the engagement ring on her finger spoke all the words he never said. A recollection of the engagement sends signals through his mind he begins to relive the past as if it were happening in true time.
The slow wind that rattled the leaves lifted her amber hair while the sun seemed to only exist for the purpose of illuminating her beauty. Her smile brought awe to the hardest of hearts, a kiss on the cheek could cure the world of hatred. Grasping the ring in one hand while holding hers in the other, they continued to walk down the secluded path.

A dimly lit room, consumed by clutter in the form of photographs and notes converted into a graceful array of paper scraps. Where the shadow relinquishes its supreme rule you can make out a faint signature with the heading �I Love You Always.� In the corner of this inimical environment there crouches our lonely subject, knees pressed against his chest. Its lonely demeanor can not be relinquished by the constant ringing of the phone for the phone is unplugged and lies soundless on the floor, receiver detached from transmission base. Loved ones leave messages expressing there concern, these messages will never be heard. All time has ceased to exist in this room and what is now a helpless void has very likely become his tomb. What many would have considered a prosperous and thriving life has been tortured until it has reached the brink of shattering, a demolition site in the form of the human mind.
A tear falls from his eye like raindrops that descend from heaven; heavens tears bring life to nature and beauty while the tears from his eyes extend from a desire to hold an untouchable angelic beauty, a beauty that heavens rain can�t recreate. As the shadows move a paper scrap is illuminated and the faint ink is legible. It reads:
Your beauty emits
with mysterious glows
like a fountain reaching the heavens
it descends and flows
Words written for the one he loved so dear but never sent due to a recent change of address. She can no longer be found at 22 Harbor Lane, where they grew up a few houses apart, but instead at the 53rd tombstone on the cemeteries path, the place where they feared the ghosts would haunt. He has yet to go to the grave because he has yet to leave the room in which they planned to spend eternity in each other arms. Eternity cut short by the road to which it led, the engagement ring on her finger spoke all the words he never said. A recollection of the engagement sends signals through his mind he begins to relive the past as if it were happening in true time.
The slow wind that rattled the leaves lifted her amber hair while the sun seemed to only exist for the purpose of illuminating her beauty. Her smile brought awe to the hardest of hearts, a kiss on the cheek could cure the world of hatred. Grasping the ring in one hand while holding hers in the other, they continued to walk down the secluded path. They rest between two trees they played in as children. He recites a poem he had written for her in his teenage years, during the days when his undying love was an untold secret that he kept locked away and close to his heart.
Two trees
perfectly parallel
comfort in the realization
that underground
their roots are
forever entwined
His heart was beating louder than rhythmic pounding of ocean recognizing the force of an approaching tempest. Her answer became the tempest overwhelming his heart and mind. The sun sparkled off the ring and her eyes alike. They both cried beneath the trees, the roots absorbed there tears of joy and they became part of the trees forever.
The stream of consciousness embarks him to another dimension of time . Sitting home on a Sunday morning with the newspaper in hand, fresh coffee on the table, angelic beauty at the other end. She whispers to him that she loves him more than life itself. He leans toward her radiating beauty and kisses her lightly on the lips, an embrace he wished could last until the dying days of eternity.

I just needed to tell you how breathtaking your imagery is in this story. You can actually visualize the emotions taking place.

amazing.

You never fail to amaze me though.

good stuff <3

A dimly lit room, consumed by clutter in the form of photographs and notes converted into a graceful array of paper scraps. Where the shadow relinquishes its supreme rule you can make out a faint signature with the heading �I Love You Always.� In the corner of this inimical environment there crouches our lonely subject, knees pressed against his chest. Its lonely demeanor can not be relinquished by the constant ringing of the phone for the phone is unplugged and lies soundless on the floor, receiver detached from transmission base. Loved ones leave messages expressing there concern, these messages will never be heard. All time has ceased to exist in this room and what is now a helpless void has very likely become his tomb. What many would have considered a prosperous and thriving life has been tortured until it has reached the brink of shattering, a demolition site in the form of the human mind.
A tear falls from his eye like raindrops that descend from heaven; heavens tears bring life to nature and beauty while the tears from his eyes extend from a desire to hold an untouchable angelic beauty, a beauty that heavens rain can�t recreate. As the shadows move a paper scrap is illuminated and the faint ink is legible. It reads:
Your beauty emits
with mysterious glows
like a fountain reaching the heavens
it descends and flows
Words written for the one he loved so dear but never sent due to a recent change of address. She can no longer be found at 22 Harbor Lane, where they grew up a few houses apart, but instead at the 53rd tombstone on the cemeteries path, the place where they feared the ghosts would haunt. He has yet to go to the grave because he has yet to leave the room in which they planned to spend eternity in each other arms. Eternity cut short by the road to which it led, the engagement ring on her finger spoke all the words he never said. A recollection of the engagement sends signals through his mind he begins to relive the past as if it were happening in true time.
The slow wind that rattled the leaves lifted her amber hair while the sun seemed to only exist for the purpose of illuminating her beauty. Her smile brought awe to the hardest of hearts, a kiss on the cheek could cure the world of hatred. Grasping the ring in one hand while holding hers in the other, they continued to walk down the secluded path. They rest between two trees they played in as children. He recites a poem he had written for her in his teenage years, during the days when his undying love was an untold secret that he kept locked away and close to his heart.
Two trees
perfectly parallel
comfort in the realization
that underground
their roots are
forever entwined
His heart was beating louder than rhythmic pounding of ocean recognizing the force of an approaching tempest. Her answer became the tempest overwhelming his heart and mind. The sun sparkled off the ring and her eyes alike. They both cried beneath the trees, the roots absorbed there tears of joy and they became part of the trees forever.
The stream of consciousness embarks him to another dimension of time . Sitting home on a Sunday morning with the newspaper in hand, fresh coffee on the table, angelic beauty at the other end. She whispers to him that she loves him more than life itself. He leans toward her radiating beauty and kisses her lightly on the lips, an embrace he wished could last until the dying days of eternity.
Our subject wakes from his reverie laying supine, gazing toward the ceiling. Crawling, he makes his way toward the center of the room. It is here he finds an old photograph, they were young, very young. He holds the photograph, bringing it forward until it becomes visible behind the torrent descending from his eyes. Receding back to his corner, he sits and stares into a black abyss. His mind begins to materialize another familiar ambiance. The snow descending from white clouds swirl around her as she walked. Each flake trying desperately to grasp and hold on for the chance to feel alive for just a second until they dissolve on her skin, a life complete.