Old _OLD_ fic-bit
Feb. 14th, 2009 11:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
uftakiI've been on a bit of a Chrono Trigger/Cross kick lately... replaying Trigger, re-reading old RP logs, looking at pics I've saved onto my computer... I was just randomly looking through what fanfic ideas/notes I'd made, quite a while ago, now... when I stumbled upon this little bit.
It's complete, but I've never posted it anywhere (edit: pretty sure I haven't posted it, at least...). So, I figured... ahhhhhh... what the heck. Why not throw it up here?
Stopped Time
A short introspective piece, as a character from Chrono Trigger randomly muses on the place and situation he finds himself in. Don't expect this to make much sense. XD It's sort of a "flow-of-thought" thing.
How long has it been like this?
Does time even exist in this state? This place? Here, a second is as long as a year, an eon as long as a minute. Time exists both everywhere and nowhere.
My watch has long since stopped running.
Oh, yes... I know watches weren't invented in the time I lived, but here... here, stuff floats by, lost in time... and I just happened to pick this up, among the scattered objects lost and forgotten by people.
It is at least a source of amusement for me. The stopped hands are an ironic, so fitting testament to this place I now call 'home'. Or prison. Take your pick.
I suppose I should introduce myself, shouldn't I? I have been here, alone, for so long, I tend to forget common courtesies. At least, I think I've been here a long time.
Again, time has no meaning in this place.
What is this place, you ask? Why, my friend, this is the End of Time. And, I suppose, you can call me its gatekeeper, it's caretaker. My name isn't really that important. For I am not the same man I once was. I used to be known as Gaspar, from the kindgom of Zeal. It was a wonderous world. A world of magic and dreams. But dreams must come to an end eventually, as the dreamer wakes. And we were woken from our dream quite abruptly, and rudely.
And now, I am in this void of space, called the End of Time. I have entered one dream world for another, as I am not altogether sure that I am awake. Or dreaming, for that matter. Like time, in this place, everything blends together until nothing is discernable. Dreams and reality...
...past and future. What is, is what was, is what will be. All time is attainable by me, from my place, here. For I am both inside time, and outside of time. All paths of time meet here. And thus, at the nexus of all time, is there no time. Each time stream negates the other, creating this void I am in now. Time has stopped. And time still goes on.
So I really have no idea how long I have remained here... if I have remained here for long at all. Perhaps the question is moot. There is no time. Like the stopped hands on the watch, so has my life stopped. I do not age in this place. I will live forever, eternally. An endless dream.
Perhaps one day, I will wake from my dream. Until then, I will continue to watch the past and the future from this vantage point of mine. And the hands of my broken watch.
It's complete, but I've never posted it anywhere (edit: pretty sure I haven't posted it, at least...). So, I figured... ahhhhhh... what the heck. Why not throw it up here?
Stopped Time
A short introspective piece, as a character from Chrono Trigger randomly muses on the place and situation he finds himself in. Don't expect this to make much sense. XD It's sort of a "flow-of-thought" thing.
How long has it been like this?
Does time even exist in this state? This place? Here, a second is as long as a year, an eon as long as a minute. Time exists both everywhere and nowhere.
My watch has long since stopped running.
Oh, yes... I know watches weren't invented in the time I lived, but here... here, stuff floats by, lost in time... and I just happened to pick this up, among the scattered objects lost and forgotten by people.
It is at least a source of amusement for me. The stopped hands are an ironic, so fitting testament to this place I now call 'home'. Or prison. Take your pick.
I suppose I should introduce myself, shouldn't I? I have been here, alone, for so long, I tend to forget common courtesies. At least, I think I've been here a long time.
Again, time has no meaning in this place.
What is this place, you ask? Why, my friend, this is the End of Time. And, I suppose, you can call me its gatekeeper, it's caretaker. My name isn't really that important. For I am not the same man I once was. I used to be known as Gaspar, from the kindgom of Zeal. It was a wonderous world. A world of magic and dreams. But dreams must come to an end eventually, as the dreamer wakes. And we were woken from our dream quite abruptly, and rudely.
And now, I am in this void of space, called the End of Time. I have entered one dream world for another, as I am not altogether sure that I am awake. Or dreaming, for that matter. Like time, in this place, everything blends together until nothing is discernable. Dreams and reality...
...past and future. What is, is what was, is what will be. All time is attainable by me, from my place, here. For I am both inside time, and outside of time. All paths of time meet here. And thus, at the nexus of all time, is there no time. Each time stream negates the other, creating this void I am in now. Time has stopped. And time still goes on.
So I really have no idea how long I have remained here... if I have remained here for long at all. Perhaps the question is moot. There is no time. Like the stopped hands on the watch, so has my life stopped. I do not age in this place. I will live forever, eternally. An endless dream.
Perhaps one day, I will wake from my dream. Until then, I will continue to watch the past and the future from this vantage point of mine. And the hands of my broken watch.
