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Written evenly, side-by-side, with my acquaintance Myrhset, as a well-enjoyed game. Each paragraph, we switched off. Can you guess who wrote each one? (Also: Myrhset would like me to mention that it is only due to the fact that English is not his native language that his writing is not any better.)
Thousands of bright points in dark sky shimmered as one of many unknown, gray men looked through the window. Below him, silent, sleeping monsters or skyscrapers and houses waited for the dawn.
On the other side of the window was another that waited for dawn, petite and young. Staring up at the sky, into the horizon, admiring the shining stars, waiting for her daystar to arrive, knowing it was coming, as was something else.
If they would pay more attention, be more aware, they would notice thousands of others, sitting, standing, young and old looking through the windows or staring at walls, aware or not of what they are waiting for. With every awakening and every seeker, another shimmering point was rising in slight glow.
Clocks and watches flashed in the dim light, notifying the townspeople of the daystar's inevitable arrival. Or not so inevitable, the townspeople now realized, when one last tick of the clock announced the daystar's call, to which it did not respond... for the daystar had not risen.
Seeds of panic, regret, and confusion was rising in their minds as scared faces were looking around, shaky hands breaking or opening windows and bodies started to mindlessly pouring out of their nests, jumping out to their death far down, in the ground. Everything in silence, in harmony of fear and feeling of necessity.
The petite girl sat in the street, one head tipped to the side, a confused frown appearing on her face in the din as she looked around her. She stood, brushed herself off, and as her childish wonder disappeared, she let out a bone-chilling shriek that brought everything to silence in relation.
It wasn't a shriek of shock, nor one of warning. Like a word that would tell that another point of prophecy is being fulfilled. It only ceased only when the last of the bodies fell with a silent creak a mere two feet from her.
It seemed that the girl was alone in the world of no sun. The petite child covered her ears with her hands, shaking her head, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to stop all of it from happening, but she knew that it could never be stopped, that it would continue, that the end was upon them, and only she knew.
From between seemingly infinite amount of streets, strands of black, thick fog emerged, moving toward the bodies of those who were living just minutes ago. Whenever a body was simply touched by one of them, it disappeared together with the dark strand, leaving no sign other than pieces of cracked pavement covered in tiny drops of blood.
When the strands of darkness reached the girl, they curved around her, not touching her, almost respectfully, knowing instantly her identity. Tears streamed down the small child's face, for she too recognized the shadows that took the once living.
The world stopped for a minute, hour, day, week… and after centuries of perfect stillness, fog started to subside and disappear under burning gaze of late sun, rising over horizon. Before the last strand dissolved in thin air, something came - a thought yet empowered by chorus of many other, thoughts tired of life they now abandoned, all singing one message in unison: 'You found your light, child, but you will know our embrace. We will come for you'.
 FN Pixie · Sat Feb 21, 2009 @ 10:08pm · 1 Comments |
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