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The Ancient City of Rahoon

The Ancient City of Rahoon

By Mitzi Danielson-Kaslik - 1 Review

A soft melody echoed out through the mountains as night rolled in from over their crests and peaks. The sound danced and dallied through the light filled trees and hovered upon the light evening wind until it reached the source. A city. The ancient city of Rahoon. As old as it was powerful and though those times of long ago are gone, the city still remained a lively place full of laughter and love and light. The sound led to a low wide stone archway which encapsulated the entrance to the great citadel as a mighty mouth leading to the world beyond the clear bay which sat just beyond the city walls.

The city wall was imperious and towered almost as high as the mountains which bordered this place, protecting it in times long deceased. The ramparts crenelated deeply as the walls stretched out further and further until the were eventually swallowed by the rich coastline which snaked the paths outside out of view. Above the archway, a large sculpted sand stone mask stood over the citizens who wandered beneath. It looked down with strange blank stone eyes, watching the scene before it.

The citadel was large with many winding corridors dictated by high standing thick stone walls, some held apart by thin stone bridges as if they - those who built this place of wonder- expected the walls of the great city to fall in one day. The walls were lined with tiny lit up shops and market stalls selling brightly coloured goods and foods with a strong scent of spice which lingered all through the night air. Thick waxy leafed ivy lined the walls thick was buzzing moths and crickets so the night was not only alive with the sound of music and whispering but also insects humming their way forth.

The talking itself was mixed. Thick with expression and heavy set excitement yet no two conversations were held in the same language. Many sounded alike yet when one listened closer, they soon realised it was quite diffident to anything they had ever heard before. The people that had these conversations were themselves varied with no two the same: all wore bright colours, yellows, reds and oranges; all wore leathery sandals with buckles and thick dust from the city streets and some had gentle delicate henna patterns. Oddly, there was one thing they all had in common; they all wore a mask. Beautiful and intricate with tall feathers and streaming ribbons yet it covered the upper part of their face with thin cut holes for the eyes. Not one person did not wear a mask.

The masks twinkled in the subtle light of the lamps with glowed, hung from every corner. One wondered what people could see from inside their mask, perhaps blinded by the lights.

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About The Author
Mitzi Danielson-Kaslik
About This Story
24 Jul, 2019
Read Time
2 mins
4.0 (1 review)

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