The Quagmire of my Discontent: The Apocalypse of WeeSaul - Abondon all hope, ye who enter here!!!

Yep, I know that I usually throw some song lyrics in here for thinking of titles is not the easiest thing to do in the world, but I had this title pop into my head whilst I was driving so I shall go with it...

At birth my soul was black, black as the coal that came from the ground in my town, black as the oil that lubricated the machinery for I was born in a northern industrial town. And all I knew and all that were around me work in the industries that kept this country going...

As I grew into a teenager the world changed just as I was changing. The industrial revolution had come to an end. Just as the French Revolution came to a violent bloody close, so did massive steel and brick structures that were once home to industry. It was not a pretty sight, it was not a marvel to behold, it was a cancer that spread throughout the land, an incurable plague that destroyed everything from within. Open sores upon the walls that will never heal, rust - the color of blood - pours from the bowels, the plug has been pulled for there is no saving that which cannot be saved. A prayer has been said over the dying and absolution granted for the sins of the past can never be forgiven by mortal men, it must come from above...

As I reached and am living through my adult years on the slow march to the end, the world that I knew so long ago is walking the same path as I am. We find ourselves being plowed under by the march of history. My body slowly decays as I keep marching on, parts do not work as they once did, pains come from places that I never knew existed, I know relatively speaking that my journey will be over soon and yet I keep marching. My world as I have experienced throughout these many years has suffered the same fate as I though it has done so at an accelerated rate for it is far older than I. Much of what I had known as a child is gone, gone forever. Much of the achievements of my ancestors have been buried deep within the soil never to see the light of day. The rusting hulks of many of its parts sit idle as if they were Twenty-first Century Monoliths and that attract many visitors who gaze upon them and wonder what they were used for, what strange peoples created such large monuments to industry, what strange religions did these people practice? And soon just as I, they will be gone, just a faded memory in the minds of the elderly. Tales of their might will be passed down from generation to generation so that possibly at some far off distant time they will be compiled and written down in some great tome that will survive long after even their memory has faded...

My soul has become the color of rust and there is nothing I can do to stop the decay. Eventually all the strength will be gone from the materials that I have been made from, and I will become a pile of dust upon the ground that the rains will wash away. What remains will be washed into the sea and I will be again reborn to begin this journey anew, but the same fate cannot be said of the world I once knew for when it's gone, it will be gone forever much like the dinosaurs that once roamed this land, they will be know only by the fossils that they have left behind...

And so I sit here and ponder such things while thinking that there is a strange beauty in the browns and reds of these rusting hulks of industry. The brickwork will remain much longer like so many ancient cities that are seen only as walls and floors. Fragments of glass in window frames created intricate patterns that man will never be able to replicate. A stray beam of sunlight sparkles from the shards that once kept the elements from wreaking havoc upon the delicate structures that were held within. And what remains within are mere shadows of what once was for the tomb robbers have long since stripped all the jewels and precious metals from within these ancient burial grounds. Fragments of ancient texts can be seen upon the walls awaiting the day when someone will decipher all that they contain. The fires that once raged deep within the hearths have all grown cold and only ashes remain...

But what of the people, why haven't the skeletons been found? Did some great catastrophe destroy their world and force them to move onto better places? Why are there no bodies? This is a mystery that we may never know the answer to...

And I sit here fearing that I have become a northern industrial town...

This is the Word of the AntiCrust...

Praise be ye who Read the Word for ye are Blessed amongst humans...