Subject: The Darker Than Dark Darkness. 1.
From: Dream Weaver <100545.1032@compuserve.com>
Date: Wed, 29 May 1996 20:14:56 +0000

From: Arthur Yarwood <100545.1032@compuserve.com>
Reply-To: 100545.1032@compuserve.com


The sun faded from it's intense yellow slowely to a deepening orange. 
Even from here he could make out the spots, tainting the surface, like 
flies in the soup of light. These flies would never fly again, they were 
there to stay. destined only to grow in size.

A dark mountains in the distance were starting to obscure the sun, 
slowely sucking it down, drawing it in to the darkest depths that lay 
below. The wind wisped around him tugging hard at the light vegetation 
that tried to live in this wilderness. His scarf flapped, dancing to the 
beat of the wind. Dancing to the final dance, to say farewell to the 
light that had drenched the day that had gone before. 

His gaze still fixed on the dying sun, his torn and weathered by the 
elements that had attacked him along his path. A path that had now 
deposited him here, his mind a flow with memories and thoughts, some 
good, some not so good, but all bad. He focused intently on a spot, it 
flew off the darkened sun. if younger he may have been curious, but not 
now. 

Finally after long seconds, the sun gave it's last, no more, just the 
fine sprinkle of the suns dust glittering across the valley. It was this 
glitter that was his destination. He had gone this way many a time 
before, yet he knew that this would be the last. Fate had cast her 
shadow across him, for tonight was dark, darker than the darkness he 
knew. 

He flinched, his body sparked into action, waking from it's rest. His 
helmet fitted his head perfectly, as if grown on his head, or had his 
head grown inside it. he knew not, only that they were one. he 
remembered the first time he wore it, shocked by it's hissing as the HUD 
awoke, but he didn't ponder the memory, for now he had to leave. Her 
shadow was moving, and follow he must. 

His steed took off with the growl of a tiger, a reassuring growl in his 
mind, a growl of terror in other minds. The tiger ran down the road, 
it's wheels intent on the path of the white line. The line that divided 
those who were coming and those who were going, yet both held false 
hopes. 

The city lights grew brighter, no more now were they glitter on the 
horizon. They were not the only light, the moon had also climbed into 
the sky. It's rays were a beautiful, pure white, that cast long shadows, 
criss-crossing the white line. The tiger held no emotion, it just 
followed the line. 

Her shadows pace was hastening, he opened the beast up, it growled with 
affection and with greater intensity. The moons shadows were just a blur 
holding now form or definition, so it took cover behind the clouds that 
wondered the night sky. Tracers lit the road up along side the sprinting 
tiger and it's master. The moon was wise. 

The tiger growled harder, this time with anger, his master pressed the 
red light that sat on it's back. The sound of trickling liquid, if 
concentrated on hard enough could be heard. The sound of screeching 
tyres unable to do their duty to the bitumen that they walked, could be 
heard quite distinctively, but it was drowned out by an explosion.

The moon reappeared from behind it's protective clouds. It's light 
sparkled on the metal debris, as if looking out of curiosity. The moon 
was still young. 

The now bright city light predominated the vision of the tiger rider 
now. Dull and tinted my sulphur, in contrast with the pure white of the 
moon. Her shadow slowed to stop over the city, so would he. Only he 
sensed the darkening darkness that embraced the city that night. 

The night was curious and would find it's answers soon. Sooner that it 
perhaps would like. 


A.J. - Dream Weaver.


Subject: The Darker Than Dark Darkness. 2.
From: Dream Weaver <100545.1032@compuserve.com>
Date: Thu, 06 Jun 1996 21:38:31 +0000


The tiger purred with content. It comforted him in these curious times. 
More curious than before, but that was far back in his mind. He didn't 
venture to that part of his mind often, not since he aquired his present 
mind. 

The rider made his way through the streets slowely taking in every 
detail, every change, every last scream of agony from the blackened 
streets. Each last agonistic scream illuminated in neon, as it tried to 
escape the darkness within through the dome to the darkness beyond. 

In times gone, one may have said the grass was greener on the other 
side, now they said it was just a lighter shade of darkness on the other 
side. 

The tiger spluttered slightly on the twilight air, enough said; the air 
didn't taste appetising. They stopped, the tiger sat on the kurb, while 
he looked around. Something didn't tick, he couldn't quite place it, he 
stared down the street, his gaze met a building, maybe the building met 
his gaze, it was that kind of architecture. It stood out, cutting 
through the ambient fog of reflected neon off the dome, that filled 
the streets like treacle.

Then it hit him, not suddenly but gradually, nothing could came suddenly 
in this fog. There was fog. There was just fog. There was still fog. It 
was the stillness that brought home the fact. 

Deterred only subconsciously he walked through the door, under the neon 
writing; Chantsobo it read. Curious his mind thought, curiouser his 
other mind thought.

Purple. With lime green trimming. It could have made a lesser man's 
stomach churn. But the silence with a thousand eyes greeting him soon 
dispelled the thought. Long seconds later the eyes crawled back to 
they're recesses and conversation continued in a low tone. Another noise 
ebbed it's way through the smoke in the bar; synthesised beat, 
monotonous, with continual change in speed. Music he guessed, he 
saddened slightly inside himself, his other mind reminiscing. 

The floor met his feet as he found himself approaching the bar. The 
place was full of kids, all looking for the adventure in they're lives, 
all unlikely to jump a hurdle if it were ankle high. Many would jostle 
him, offer paths to richness, bargain their wares, prophase his future, 
promise a new world..... all as transparent as glass, old window glass. 

The bar gave him a drink, a day-glo blue colour with consistency of oil 
and taste weaker than water. A tap greets his shoulder followed by a 
voice, "Two fools; one said this is old and therefore good. The other 
said..." - "This is new and therefore better." He concluded sipping the 
blue liquid. The voice matched the body perfectly; elegant, tall and 
overall feminine. "Hello Nico" he said, hinting slight thankfulness.

"Long time no see, what brings you back here?" 

"To see the better new, before the end." 

"New kids on the block you might say."

"Block off the shoulder I'd say." 

"The forever stamping boot."

"What happened to our darkness we had?"

"We never noticed the darker darkness outside, then our black light was 
a beacon at the end of the tunnel. The tunnel got overcrowded and 
burst."

He only nodded to agree as he downed the last of the blue liquid. 

"It's a long story, come to my place, the camp fire still burns there."

The tiger took the pair down the street through the fog, leaving not a 
stripe.

A.J. - Dream Weaver.