In Black
folder
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
597
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
597
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
In Black
In Black
Stone walls leak unspeakable liquid. Unspeakable in that no one would ever know precisely what such liquid could be. Green sponge that might well be mold hides in corners. Yellowed parchment curls in upon itself, attempting to escape the wall it is attached to. Symbols unknown to human kind cover the parchment, the scrawl it is written in half hazard, uncontrolled.
A mouse can be heard squeaking it claim upon age old bread crust upon the moldering carpet floor.
Roaches make their nest within colonies of lice and feces. A bed creaks as its occupant turn over in his sleep.
A candle stub long burnt out reforms itself into the glory it once knew. It flickers to life as flame envelopes a wick a moment ago nonexistent.
The sleeping man awakes. Azure eyes clouded now with white film open to the candles dim light.
He raises aged hands, gathering the forces of the past between his fingers. Raising the dying body from fouled blankets he sits upon the rotting bed, staring with sightless eyes upon the far wall. The wall, half covered in parchments. Parchments, half covered in symbols of his past. His past, now forgotten with age’s sweet caress.
The man moves stubs of legs to hang over the bed’s edge. He rises on legs that do not exist. He rises, moves as though to walk yet by all appearances he is a floating apparition of time coalesced in human form.
He moves to the far wall, to parchment and mold. Roaches and an indignant mouse scurry away form the feet unseen by them.
He stands before this wall, floats before this wall. He knows his time has ended. Only a few moments now before death claims him. And he has but one spell yet to cast. He has lived a long life. One century upon many more.
He has lived beneath this building, within this cellar room, for time he has forgotten. He is ready to die now. Ready to leave this world. But one memory stands in his way. One memory reminds him of his reason.
He is time and time must die when time is over. And so he raises his hands, hands that do not feel, hands that are no longer real. Upon the parchment he places his hands; upon the wall he feels liquid slime.
In a voice of time and age and birth as one he speaks. A word or more it is uncertain as his voice is no voice, only a murmur of a thought forgotten to be spoken.
And the world shudders at his rage, at his love, at his ending. And the world shudders.
Time was his name once. Time and death. Life and death. He has forgotten which it was now. But it is over now. He is a dying being. A human being. A dead being. And with the ending of time so to do all things end.
There was no fire and brimstone. No pearly gates. No welcoming relatives. Only the end. Only the light before the black. And black, the ending tune, the lack of color, the ending of all things. So the end came to time. So the end came to all. In black it now rest. In black.
___________________
A/N: please R&R
Stone walls leak unspeakable liquid. Unspeakable in that no one would ever know precisely what such liquid could be. Green sponge that might well be mold hides in corners. Yellowed parchment curls in upon itself, attempting to escape the wall it is attached to. Symbols unknown to human kind cover the parchment, the scrawl it is written in half hazard, uncontrolled.
A mouse can be heard squeaking it claim upon age old bread crust upon the moldering carpet floor.
Roaches make their nest within colonies of lice and feces. A bed creaks as its occupant turn over in his sleep.
A candle stub long burnt out reforms itself into the glory it once knew. It flickers to life as flame envelopes a wick a moment ago nonexistent.
The sleeping man awakes. Azure eyes clouded now with white film open to the candles dim light.
He raises aged hands, gathering the forces of the past between his fingers. Raising the dying body from fouled blankets he sits upon the rotting bed, staring with sightless eyes upon the far wall. The wall, half covered in parchments. Parchments, half covered in symbols of his past. His past, now forgotten with age’s sweet caress.
The man moves stubs of legs to hang over the bed’s edge. He rises on legs that do not exist. He rises, moves as though to walk yet by all appearances he is a floating apparition of time coalesced in human form.
He moves to the far wall, to parchment and mold. Roaches and an indignant mouse scurry away form the feet unseen by them.
He stands before this wall, floats before this wall. He knows his time has ended. Only a few moments now before death claims him. And he has but one spell yet to cast. He has lived a long life. One century upon many more.
He has lived beneath this building, within this cellar room, for time he has forgotten. He is ready to die now. Ready to leave this world. But one memory stands in his way. One memory reminds him of his reason.
He is time and time must die when time is over. And so he raises his hands, hands that do not feel, hands that are no longer real. Upon the parchment he places his hands; upon the wall he feels liquid slime.
In a voice of time and age and birth as one he speaks. A word or more it is uncertain as his voice is no voice, only a murmur of a thought forgotten to be spoken.
And the world shudders at his rage, at his love, at his ending. And the world shudders.
Time was his name once. Time and death. Life and death. He has forgotten which it was now. But it is over now. He is a dying being. A human being. A dead being. And with the ending of time so to do all things end.
There was no fire and brimstone. No pearly gates. No welcoming relatives. Only the end. Only the light before the black. And black, the ending tune, the lack of color, the ending of all things. So the end came to time. So the end came to all. In black it now rest. In black.
___________________
A/N: please R&R