The Lost World

I was thinking how nice it would be if I discovered a lost world. If I were to follow one of my many dreams to be an archaeologist, I might have discovered a long lost ancient world. Or even better, a necropolis.

There I was, walking along the ancient, hidden pathway I had just discovered toward the most incredible place the world had ever seen.

At first, there was only the beam of light from my torch. But after walking for around fifteen minutes in the cold, damp subterranean, I could see a bit of light ahead of me. Dim, but it was definitely light.

I continued walking until I've reached the end of the pathway and was looking at the very thing I was searching for for years. My lost world. It was dark though. The only source of light was from the moon. It was as though I've stepped onto another planet. I released the breath I was holding unintentionally, letting it hiss through my lips as I realised something: I was the only thing that had breathed in this world since thousands of years ago.

I stood gazing at the dilapidated city before me. The silence that surrounded me was deafening, suffocating... I took a deep breath to calm myself and decided to venture into the first building I set my eyes upon. Ironically, it was a cathedral. A huge tree was posed in front of it, as if daring me to go any further. But then, Iwas an archaeologist. And my curiosity had drowned all my fear. Muttering what the heck, I stepped into the chilly cathedral.

It was rather similar to the cathedrals in Rome. The moonlight shone through the huge windows and to be honest, I was really grateful. I probably would have wetted my pants if there weren't any light save the torch I held in my hand. I walked past the cloister and entered a courtyard.

This is the cloister. And the one below is the courtyard. The stones paving the floor was ruined by time and the fountain was half covered in lichen. Nevertheless, there was an unassuming beauty about it. About the ruins, the silence...

And from the courtyard, I've found my personal favourite spot in the lost world. My very own world of stones. Hundreds of statues lay before me, some deformed and some still perfectly intact.

Ever since I'm a little girl, I've been fascinated by statues. I adore them. Their white, marble limbs, smooth, beautiful faces are enough to make me weep. As I slowly made my way through the silent, motionless crowd around me, I recognised many statues similar to those in the Louvre museum and the Vatican museum.

Satyrs and nymphs singing and dancing, and in their hands were violins, harps, accordions. Gods and goddesses stared down at me with the cold, arrogant stare of a royalty. Nine muses were also scattered across this magnificent garden of marbles. Imagine my thrill when I saw my personal favourite, Melpomene, the muse of tragedies. A marble tear slid midway down her cheek, and on her exquisite face was the most depressing expression. And in her hand, she held a knife, one of her personal traits.

Yes, I could definitely say I was in heaven.