The Necropolis

“Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again…”

It was a very old song, forgotten in this new time and all I could remember were those two lines, repeating like a broken record in my head.

“Hello Darkness…”

Perhaps Darkness was my only friend.

“I’ve come to talk with you again…”

Perhaps I did talk with darkness and it was my only friend. Strange to have a friend so silent and separate to me no matter how familiar I was with it.
I walked through the paths of a necropolis.
Every time I came here, I talked with darkness regardless of my choices.

Necropolis…

Coming from Greek origin for “city of the dead”. In ancient history, a necropolis was a large cemetery and they were used by several cultures, in various forms, and for different reasons.
It was as if whispers from another world had leaked into present time.
The Etruscans built necropoli as a means of worshipping the dead, and so that the dead were not buried within the limits of the cities.
The Egyptian necropoli were ceremonial and religious in nature, often in the form of a complex of pyramids that housed the dead, their servants, and any supplies and personal effects that would be needed for the journey into the afterlife.
If there was an afterlife…

“In restless dreams I walked alone,

Narrow streets of cobblestone…”

The stones spoke softly of only silence.
Cold, hard angels cried as they usually did, tears of marble forever running down their flawless cheeks.
Said to be guardians of the dead, they did indeed stand over coffins of stone, watchers of the absence of life except for the cats, forever darting and weaving through the labyrinthine maze of paths spreading from the heart of this ghostly body.
I wondered if I would ever find the heart of this place of rest with its ghostly demeanour and forbidding nature.
Did a heart exist?
Or did the brick walls extend around the city encompassing those who lived in a cold embrace of death?
If one heart did exist, then why was it the heart?
Did it have a physical function alike to the human heart or was it just a centre piece to its surroundings, an apex of a subject?

Perhaps the only residents of this silent place found comfort with each other’s company, angels weeping for the dead, the dead sleeping with the cats and the cats watching the world go by with a lazy eye.

El cementerio.
It should have been more aptly named él lugar de sueño.
The place of sleep.
And slumber they did within their cold sarcophagus, protected from the world.
I had met every singe one of the sleepers around me.
Did this chance meeting at an inopportune moment deem them the status of my friends?
But how could one tell if they were friends with another if there was no real set criterion, was it an understanding or a phrase spoken aloud and approved by both parties?

A car horn blared from beyond the wall and I could almost feel the silence take a breath and roll over, settling back to slumber which had been momentarily displaced by the outside life we both didn’t belong to.
Had I released them from a loud and noisy world and now were they at peace?
Or did they broil and struggle against the restraints of their houses of dust, their turmoil echoing through silent rooms of the dead.
Habitación del muerto.
Room of the dead.

“And no one dared,
Disturb the sound of silence…”

Dead.
An absence of life.

Flowers adorned archways, blossoming for no one but cats and stone eyes.
Even as the dead didn’t notice, ropes of green and vibrant purple buds grew over their inscribed names. Poppies spread their distinctive red, from far away appearing like confetti or drops of crimson blood.
I wondered if the vines grew so far and strong until they lay over the dusty lips of the dead.
The tang of rust lingered in the air, drifting to remind the living of what time did to even the most resilient of metals. A metallic tang from the fences which guarded ancient treasures below the troubles of mortal minds.

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This is an extract from my major work for Ex 2 so any comments are welcome! The more critical analysis of it I have the better so have a read and tell me what you think :)
This is only an extract, more of a description of a setting using an abstract narrator and incorporating a neo-gothic sort of tone.
Only an extract so please don’t judge storyline, just quality of writing!
Thank you and wish me luck!

Comments

  • Soph-La
    Soph-Laover 5 years ago

    wow, you have a very unique way of thinking and describing – its a mixture of fact with fiction, of languages and silence, emotion and distance and very reflective. i love it. you view of the world is one of a kind.

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