Connor looked out into the vast Barrens of of the "Dead Zone". It had been a year since he ventured out of the Human world and into a self imposed exile with only what he could carry. He did not want to do it, but the temptation to join a group that threatened to wipe out not only his kind, but those he used to call family...it made him sick, so he ran. He came to be in solitude so that he could learn to control the inner struggles that lie inside of him and so that he could escape the choices that lie on the outside. He sighed as he looked away from the barren world and back down to his book. The book was an old one...full of poems and writings of many famous authors; the pages were worn and yellowed, the binding of the book had begun to fall apart. Yet Connor held onto it like it was attached to his very soul. He began to read the page just as he had done 14,667 other times.
Connor looked back up as he finished reading and sighed once more.
"Rage...Rage against the dying of the light..."
He closed the book as he gathered up his belongings once more and stored them all in a knapsack just as he had always done. When he was done he faced the direction of the dimensional gate and began to walk.
It was time he chose a side.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Connor looked back up as he finished reading and sighed once more.
"Rage...Rage against the dying of the light..."
He closed the book as he gathered up his belongings once more and stored them all in a knapsack just as he had always done. When he was done he faced the direction of the dimensional gate and began to walk.
It was time he chose a side.
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