The Undying Fire


THE TRAVELLER (NARRATION):

Suddenly, Weena came close to my side.

WEENA:

I want to go home. [whispered]

THE TRAVELLER:

There’s nothing to fear Weena. This museum has been abandoned for thousands of years. It’s empty and…

WEENA:

It’s the Morlocks!

THE TRAVELLER (NARRATION):

Down in the remote blackness I heard a peculiar pattering noise. I called to mind that it was already far advanced in the afternoon and that I still had no weapon, no refuge, and no means of making fire.

THE TRAVELLER:

Wait here… and stay out of the shadows.

THE TRAVELLER (NARRATION):

I left Weena’s side and turned to a machine from which projected a lever. Grasping the lever in both hands, I put all my weight on it.

WEENA:

Hurry, they’re getting closer!

THE TRAVELLER:

I’m working on it! I just need…

THE TRAVELLER (NARRATION):

I wrestled with the lever.

THE TRAVELLER:

…more time!

THE TRAVELLER (NARRATION):

At last the lever snapped off. I rejoined Weena clutching my new weapon, took her hand and we fled from the gallery.

We ascended a wide, sweeping staircase to enter a ruinous library. Amongst a wilderness of rotting paper — the decaying vestiges of books — I came upon a sealed jar.

THE TRAVELLER:

Hmm. Looks like paraffin wax…

WEENA:

The dark night is coming. We must leave this place.

THE TRAVELLER (NARRATION):

I smashed the glass. The aromatic odour of camphor was unmistakable.

THE TRAVELLER:

Camphor! Weena this will burn with a good bright flame, in fact, make an excellent candle…

WEENA:

Please, we have to go!

THE TRAVELLER (NARRATION):

But there was nowhere to go — night was almost upon us. I hurriedly went to examine the airtight glass cases. Then in one of them I found a box of matches! Eagerly I struck one — a flame spluttered into life. Weena stood transfixed by this new and strange thing.

These ashes beneath our feet Hopes and tears of yesterday Times when we once dreamed The world could be a better place But we threw it all away Just look at what we’ve done The world we have made Is this what we’ve become? We are prisoners of details Divided and united in fear Wasting our opportunities While time flies by Our world beyond repair But no one cares Just take a look around At the wreckage and the waste Superstitious and afraid What are the use of plans For a future that will never exist THE TRAVELLER (NARRATION):

Then peering into the gloom I discerned countless pale, wiry forms. Morlocks! The whole gallery was alive with them! Hastily I lit the camphor and hurled it at the nearest bookcase. Ancient books instantly erupted into flame. The fierce heat and blinding light drove the creatures back, but the blaze spread swiftly filling the air with choking smoke.

Suddenly, hands gripped me savagely by the neck. They were on me, pulling me down and biting! And I realised with horror that these vile creatures were not only meat eaters, they were cannibals! I struggled up, swinging my iron bar before me — I could feel the succulent giving of flesh and bone under my blows…

THE TRAVELLER:

Weena! Weena! Dear God! The Morlocks have taken her!

THE TRAVELLER (NARRATION):

I plunged down the stairs in pursuit. I ran through gallery after gallery in a frantic search until I found myself back near the main entrance. Through the black pillars, I saw the flames of the burning museum and the figures of Morlocks — running away! And I ran too. Finally, I collapsed outside, overcome by fatigue and fumes.

Side: 4 Track: 2 Duration: 11.00 Mood: Rock Status: Not complete. Notes: