The Crystal Palace

THE CRYSTAL PALACE The gods awoke, as they occasionally do, and found Fred Cross in multitudes, alone. Unconsciously aware of their unblamed fault, they dreamed for him an appropriate abode, a crystal palace flawed through and through with veins of earthy, dark hued stone. Sequestered by battlements of coldfiery ice, concealed, it towered over existence below. Fred Cross, through mirrored portals viewed the warm chill of life from his lofty abode, and despairingly content he quite often died exploring the chambers of his intricate home. By midnight's blaze through vacant corridors he paced, stumbling on cobwebbed unrealities, and contemplated empty passages scrawled in volumes shelved in wormwood libraries. To bed he went at darkened dawn, tired by lore read studiously of man's strong willed frailties. On sunset mornings he slipped boldly outside to sense the roses he could not smell, to bare his soul to one who cared. But alas, he could not find a single one of all those there that knew him well enough to share. He cried and fled to his castle gate, hopelessly secure. The gods returned to their perpetual rest. Fred Cross lived forever in a palace of death.