Post by Alejandro Cepero on Sept 24, 2012 12:58:15 GMT -5
A well dressed man walked through the halls of the National Trust Museum, wearing a fine Armani suit with a red shirt with its top two buttons unbuttoned. His hair was well groomed (for once), and his beard was trimmed. Grey eyes slowly and methodically scanned each and every painting on the wall. He took in each and every detail, and with it the memories came flooding back.
It was a Goya exhibit. El Prado art museum in Spain had loaned it to the museum for a month, and all of Goya's most famous works could now be viewed by millions. To many, they were just beautiful paintings from the master himself. To Alejandro, they were snapshots. They were images of a time long gone, of the Spain he grew up in, and of his first war as a vampire.
"El Dos de Mayo" One painting's caption said. "The Second of May." He smiled at that one. He remembered that day, when the people of Madrid rose up against their French occupiers. The second painting, however, reminded him of its aftermath. He turned away in disgust. The man in the center holding his arms in the air reminded him too much of his friend...
He continued to walk down the exhibit, alone, the only sounds he could here were his own footsteps and the rain tapping on the windows. He stopped, finally, at the Painting of Christ Crucified and just, stared... Biting his lip, he lowered his head and sat on the bench, listening to the rain outside.
The rain really had not let up all week. It was a constant deluge of water pouring down onto the city, flooding a few streets here and there. When Alejandro was younger, the monks had taught him that rain came from the Lord crying over how corrupted his creation had become, and how he longed for the days of Adam and Eve. Well, Alejandro no longer believed most of what the monks had told him, but one thing he certainly believed. If the Lord was up there, he has had much to weep about. Constant war, plague, poverty, corruption... And monsters like Alejandro, corruptions of what he had designed when he first breathed life into that lump of mud... Alejandro sighed as he shook his head, mumbling in Spanish. "Dios mio, dios mio... Why have you left me?"
A small tear rolled down his face as he continued to stare at the painting of Christ crucified. He clasped his hands and tried to mumble the prayers of his youth, but he could not do it. Had it been that long? Truly... Did he not remember how to even pray? Did he still have a soul worth saving? He sighed heavily and looked down again. Damn it all...
It was a Goya exhibit. El Prado art museum in Spain had loaned it to the museum for a month, and all of Goya's most famous works could now be viewed by millions. To many, they were just beautiful paintings from the master himself. To Alejandro, they were snapshots. They were images of a time long gone, of the Spain he grew up in, and of his first war as a vampire.
"El Dos de Mayo" One painting's caption said. "The Second of May." He smiled at that one. He remembered that day, when the people of Madrid rose up against their French occupiers. The second painting, however, reminded him of its aftermath. He turned away in disgust. The man in the center holding his arms in the air reminded him too much of his friend...
He continued to walk down the exhibit, alone, the only sounds he could here were his own footsteps and the rain tapping on the windows. He stopped, finally, at the Painting of Christ Crucified and just, stared... Biting his lip, he lowered his head and sat on the bench, listening to the rain outside.
The rain really had not let up all week. It was a constant deluge of water pouring down onto the city, flooding a few streets here and there. When Alejandro was younger, the monks had taught him that rain came from the Lord crying over how corrupted his creation had become, and how he longed for the days of Adam and Eve. Well, Alejandro no longer believed most of what the monks had told him, but one thing he certainly believed. If the Lord was up there, he has had much to weep about. Constant war, plague, poverty, corruption... And monsters like Alejandro, corruptions of what he had designed when he first breathed life into that lump of mud... Alejandro sighed as he shook his head, mumbling in Spanish. "Dios mio, dios mio... Why have you left me?"
A small tear rolled down his face as he continued to stare at the painting of Christ crucified. He clasped his hands and tried to mumble the prayers of his youth, but he could not do it. Had it been that long? Truly... Did he not remember how to even pray? Did he still have a soul worth saving? He sighed heavily and looked down again. Damn it all...
