In the End
by Maria Rocket
***
A lone figure stood on the distant horizon. The light behind him was very faint, and it gave the dark sky an orange glow. The bare, rolling land stretched into the farthest places one could imagine. Only the wind had a voice. This was the land at the end of the world.
The cloaked figure, his head raised high, stared into a starless sky. For just an instant, every light in the universe had gone out. It had been the longest instant in history, in which everything had been distorted forever. Horribly wounded beyond all repair, the heart of the universe cried out in anguish.
The stars were still there, he could feel them now, but they were so weak. Like too many souls had, he had nearly been ripped apart during the chaos, but his star, his alone had not gone out. Nothing had surpassed his shock when that spirit he loved dearest had taken him in his arms, sheltering him from the storm.
Somewhere out in the void, he had heard himself screaming. Somewhere his body was being seared and obliterated, atoms shrieking as they flew apart. Somewhere his mangled soul was screaming as it went hurtling into the heart of the chaos, finally becoming one with it. Oh, the madness, he could remember like something from a long forgotten nightmare emerging from memory. It hurt and he did not want to remember.
How desperately he had clung to his star, daring to hope that at last death and love had come to him in one hour. He knew from what was that it couldn't be so, but his heart prayed to the empty void for what he had so long wished for. In the silent howling of the chaos, he thought words of eternal love and devotion whispered in his ear, pleading with him to stay strong, to hold on, to keep running.
He knew then that his star was going to let go, as the newborn endworld came to a stop. He was determined that he would never let go now that he had the light in his grasp. He would use all the power he possessed, all the power of the cosmos to hold on to what he had pursued for so long. Yet there was but one power whose might surpassed the greatest he could summon.
So as the dust settled, and remains of the universe lay violated, he stood alone in the wasteland. As he trembled, the earth trembled and split several times over, defacing the surface beyond what the chaos had caused. His eyes in the heavens, he did not cry, even as his heart keened with loss and despair. He had not cried since before the beginning of time.
A few minutes. A few thousand years. He wasn't sure how long he stood there. But eventually he lowered his gaze, and turned his haunted eyes across the cracked dry earth, towards a place where a woman was screaming in childbirth, deep beneath the surface. It was almost time.
Not ready to face what was to come, to face the complete unknown, he pulled his hood close about his head and turned away. His feet carried him as they had for countless ages, towards the faraway mountains, to the forests to hide for as long as he desired.
Ahead of him he could see the shadowy runner, the dark light leading him on. And he would always follow, to the final destination, be it heaven, hell, or absolute oblivion. Always.
by Maria Rocket
***
A lone figure stood on the distant horizon. The light behind him was very faint, and it gave the dark sky an orange glow. The bare, rolling land stretched into the farthest places one could imagine. Only the wind had a voice. This was the land at the end of the world.
The cloaked figure, his head raised high, stared into a starless sky. For just an instant, every light in the universe had gone out. It had been the longest instant in history, in which everything had been distorted forever. Horribly wounded beyond all repair, the heart of the universe cried out in anguish.
The stars were still there, he could feel them now, but they were so weak. Like too many souls had, he had nearly been ripped apart during the chaos, but his star, his alone had not gone out. Nothing had surpassed his shock when that spirit he loved dearest had taken him in his arms, sheltering him from the storm.
Somewhere out in the void, he had heard himself screaming. Somewhere his body was being seared and obliterated, atoms shrieking as they flew apart. Somewhere his mangled soul was screaming as it went hurtling into the heart of the chaos, finally becoming one with it. Oh, the madness, he could remember like something from a long forgotten nightmare emerging from memory. It hurt and he did not want to remember.
How desperately he had clung to his star, daring to hope that at last death and love had come to him in one hour. He knew from what was that it couldn't be so, but his heart prayed to the empty void for what he had so long wished for. In the silent howling of the chaos, he thought words of eternal love and devotion whispered in his ear, pleading with him to stay strong, to hold on, to keep running.
He knew then that his star was going to let go, as the newborn endworld came to a stop. He was determined that he would never let go now that he had the light in his grasp. He would use all the power he possessed, all the power of the cosmos to hold on to what he had pursued for so long. Yet there was but one power whose might surpassed the greatest he could summon.
So as the dust settled, and remains of the universe lay violated, he stood alone in the wasteland. As he trembled, the earth trembled and split several times over, defacing the surface beyond what the chaos had caused. His eyes in the heavens, he did not cry, even as his heart keened with loss and despair. He had not cried since before the beginning of time.
A few minutes. A few thousand years. He wasn't sure how long he stood there. But eventually he lowered his gaze, and turned his haunted eyes across the cracked dry earth, towards a place where a woman was screaming in childbirth, deep beneath the surface. It was almost time.
Not ready to face what was to come, to face the complete unknown, he pulled his hood close about his head and turned away. His feet carried him as they had for countless ages, towards the faraway mountains, to the forests to hide for as long as he desired.
Ahead of him he could see the shadowy runner, the dark light leading him on. And he would always follow, to the final destination, be it heaven, hell, or absolute oblivion. Always.