Dark
shadows of lies flew like black snowflakes on a winter day.
At first they were
small lies, small misguided moments of untruth but as they grew in size and
depth they became dangerous.
Lie gathered upon lie to form a drift of pure
misery that would remain to taunt all those who chose to believe in them.
Shaped into reality the lies sometimes looked real to many who saw them, but
the evil ones knew exactly what they were and the power they gave.
Reading or listening to the lies was an art not taught to many, it was more of
where to start that was important, perhaps more than the content.
Different
chosen ones began retelling the lies in many places and so the stories that
grew were different while the content was similar.
Each faction believed its own
stories and held that all others were nothing but lies, which in fact they all
were.
Time shaded and darkened the gaps until all the stories made from the
drift of lies became real to those who read or heard them.
Minds darkened, refusing
to accept that other stories were possible.
When those minds became so dark and
twisted that nothing was thought to be real bar the stories, then came the
wars.
Man against man, beast against beast until all the lies were laid to rest
and there was not one person or beast left to make a story.
The
lies had won as they always do.
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