We live in a world that is gray with pure apathy.  Our waters no longer aglow with

blue magick.  Once, when this world was young, Poetry was a language.. and

technology was commonly refered to simply as magick.  Those days are behind

us now.  The world is colourless and dreary.  Where did the life go?

Those vivid memories of Dragons and naked women, splashing in cool

streams, innocent and wild, they were.  Where are the rainbows that

flew  from a wizards fingertips to wrap around a unicorn, galloping across

the mist?  Around me I see gray metal.  Loud noises.  A filthy smell invades

my still sensitive nose.  But no one around me seems to notice.  A child cries go

unheard, even as a hundred, nay.. a thousand souls wander up and down a flat dark

stone that seems to roll onwards forever.  No one notices.  I ran to this child

but even as she looked up at me, I knew.  Her face was that of a child, but the eyes

were dead.  She was dead.   Perhaps she still breathed, but her soul was gone

A voice inside me whispered, "She never had one."

I stood back in horror, as I saw   a silver blade protruding from her hand, a razorblade

She was playing in a large box of razorblades.  No one turned their head.

Her jumpsuit was black.  How odd, I thought.. that a child would be left

without colour.  I glanced back up at the street.  A blur of grays and blacks, with

a flicker of a white blouse, here and there.  My God, where are the colours?

I looked down at my own body, clad in a long black gown.  I was one of them.

I held out my arms towards the child, needing suddenly to feel someone.. Something!

Lines of deep red, a blade in my right hand.  I had fallen into this darkness.

I knew that all of the unicorns had been killed.  

I knew  the wizards had long since died.

I knew that magick no longer was within me.

I knew that everything was gray.

And that no one cared.