The Chronicle of the Great Ones
Original Young Adult Fiction
Written by The Funk Mistress
Part Two
Each one still carried on much in the same way they had before the Great
Change. A change they had forced out of their minds. Don’t think it. Don’t
think it. Don’t think it.
They tried to adjust.
They tried to adjust.
When things crumbled, they left the pieces but pretended they weren’t
there.
Fridays still took place, but conflicting lives soon stopped even that. No one's fault, these things happen.
But still. They were forgetting. Forgetting who they had been before the Change.
They had ruled their own section of the school. Their plot of land. They fought to keep their land. Had kept it through many trials and tribulations.
They were rich in all areas. The Ancients smiled on them. Kept them safe. This story has a lot of sentence fragments.
But what of all that now?
Split lunch times also kept the group split. Social circles crumbled and the winds of change blew the dusty pieces away.
But still. The world turned. The sun shone. So things were still all right. And well, even if the sun stopped shining, no one would really mind. It got too hot sometimes, anyway.
But that wasn’t the problem.
The problem was the forgetting. What they had been. The power they held. The antics that let people see they were scary.
Fridays still took place, but conflicting lives soon stopped even that. No one's fault, these things happen.
But still. They were forgetting. Forgetting who they had been before the Change.
They had ruled their own section of the school. Their plot of land. They fought to keep their land. Had kept it through many trials and tribulations.
They were rich in all areas. The Ancients smiled on them. Kept them safe. This story has a lot of sentence fragments.
But what of all that now?
Split lunch times also kept the group split. Social circles crumbled and the winds of change blew the dusty pieces away.
But still. The world turned. The sun shone. So things were still all right. And well, even if the sun stopped shining, no one would really mind. It got too hot sometimes, anyway.
But that wasn’t the problem.
The problem was the forgetting. What they had been. The power they held. The antics that let people see they were scary.
“Don’t mess with those people by the crazy benches. They act in strange ways.
They have strange customs. You would do best to stay away.”
Sometimes, a young one who knew no better would come to them. If they were brave enough, wild enough, they might be accepted. It was not unheard of.
But the Great Ones. They’re lost. Only one man can save them. He was an emissary of The Ancients. But without the Rings, he could do nothing. And even the Rings were rusted from lack of use.
Their entire history was written on the web for all to see.
A showcase of insanity, a diary of delusions. Their ways. Their lives. The counter went up, they visited the site, but they never stay. Don’t drink the water.
They were forgetting.
They had forgotten.
The tears of The Ancients watered the fields, but their homeland was covered by concrete. The seeds of memory would not grow.
The bush was empty, void of the artifacts they had hidden there.
The windows didn’t wobble anymore. No sweet plexiglass music reached their ears.
PIZZA GRENADE? Unheard of.
No new songs.
The Latin Bronco? The Latin Bronco...
But it wasn’t so much a forgetting. It wasn’t a breaking of chains. A ripping of ties. A fracturing of bonds that glue people together. It was a crystallization of thought. An explosion of intellect. An expanding of minds.
Each took a journey. Each took a path where the road had forked and spooned and knifed. Maybe even spatulated. But straight ahead, if they follow their paths to the end, they meet up again.
After Japan. After the local high school. Before college. During college. Everything.
Distance. States. Countries.
Sometimes, a young one who knew no better would come to them. If they were brave enough, wild enough, they might be accepted. It was not unheard of.
But the Great Ones. They’re lost. Only one man can save them. He was an emissary of The Ancients. But without the Rings, he could do nothing. And even the Rings were rusted from lack of use.
Their entire history was written on the web for all to see.
A showcase of insanity, a diary of delusions. Their ways. Their lives. The counter went up, they visited the site, but they never stay. Don’t drink the water.
They were forgetting.
They had forgotten.
The tears of The Ancients watered the fields, but their homeland was covered by concrete. The seeds of memory would not grow.
The bush was empty, void of the artifacts they had hidden there.
The windows didn’t wobble anymore. No sweet plexiglass music reached their ears.
PIZZA GRENADE? Unheard of.
No new songs.
The Latin Bronco? The Latin Bronco...
But it wasn’t so much a forgetting. It wasn’t a breaking of chains. A ripping of ties. A fracturing of bonds that glue people together. It was a crystallization of thought. An explosion of intellect. An expanding of minds.
Each took a journey. Each took a path where the road had forked and spooned and knifed. Maybe even spatulated. But straight ahead, if they follow their paths to the end, they meet up again.
After Japan. After the local high school. Before college. During college. Everything.
Distance. States. Countries.
Riaopia is sleeping.
But it's not forgotten.
Riaopia is with every Riaopian...
...In their pants.
___
At last, DJ Hadoken is returning from Japan.
But Riaopia is not the same as before.
But Riaopia is not the same as before.
What will happen to the RIA crew?
Find out in RIA's next tale!
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