From: PixMuldoon@aol.com
Date: Sat, 11 Sep 1999 20:50:00 EDT
Subject: Of Ends and Beginnings by Pix Muldoon
Source: direct


Title: Of Beginnings and Ends

Author: Pix "Ashley" Muldoon

E-Mail Address: PixMuldoon@aol.com

Rating: PG

Category: Vignette

Spoilers: none that I can think of

Summary: When someone leaves, they always leave something behind. Somewhere 
in the future, we see what Mulder and Scully have left behind throught the 
eyes of a third party.

Disclaimer: Althought no names are actually mentioned, there are obvious 
clues here that tell you the unnamed are creations of CC. This is just a 
little paper I wrote for English.

                            

As I hesitantly tread into the miniature cubicle the first thing 
that strikes my senses is the silent obscure blackness. The 
contrast to the boisterous, vivid, and violent world is like 
comparing rock music to Beethoven. I can't help but wonder if the 
placidity of this room is a eulogy to the relentlessly seeking 
spirits that once hunted here. The humidity of the dank office 
warms my skin as glistening raindrop-shaped pearls of 
perspiration pour from my face, artfully fending off my half-
hearted attempts to wipe them away. Sniffing the stale air I 
smell a faint floral aroma, wafting and uniting with another 
sharper spicy scent. Sadly, days of desolation are adding their 
sickening sweet odor of decay. Taking a primary glance around the 
room, I see it is in a state of utter and total chaos. Loose-leaf 
papers, some crumbled and torn, are dispelled across a faded 
mahogany oak desk. Hundreds of tattered books lay as if 
abandoned, tossed into shelves and thrown onto the desk. Charcoal 
black filing cabinets, rusty and deteriorating, sit contemplating 
in the corner. My eye rests on the apocryphal documents covering 
the once creamy ivory walls that are now smudged in a thick 
pellicle of dust. Taking a measured step forward my heel crushes 
a small fragile object that splits into minute splinters under my 
petite foot. I glance down and spy thousands of minute sunflower 
seeds coating the scuttled and scratched floor. The sudden 
sensation of claustrophobia sends me reeling and I sense my skin 
turning a pasty white. I quickly grasp for the scarred gold-
polished door handle and swing it open. Blindly I sprint, 
slipping and sliding fleeing outside to the relative safety of 
the pristine blue hallway.  Breathing in short whistling breaths, 
my lungs heave and grasp for air. As I stumble down the hallway, 
the sour stench of smoldering cigarettes fills my nostrils.