Sunday 1 May 2022

My Work: Beggining of the End - Short continuation by me

Hi All

I wrote this as to continue my last post, its not as long and while I enjoyed writing it, I did feel that the concept in my head was better than how it ended up.

Hundreds of miles away, sat another dying man. High in the tallest tower of a grand palace.

The wrinkled old man sat on a balcony bathed in sunlight, staring out into the crystal blue ocean.  The clear sky made it difficult for his ageing eyes to separate where the still water met the cloudless sky. He knew that in contrast to this beauty, a storm was moving. Regret filled his thoughts as he realized, today would be the day.

“Ignorance is indeed bliss.” he muttered under his breath as he sipped his extravagant wine. Savoring the taste of it, he had always believed Asar would change the world, as usual he was right. It was with all his heart that this time he wished that he was wrong.

Draining the final mouthful of wine from his jewelled goblet and standing forcefully, he shuffled on unbalanced legs quickly into the tower and then he sat heavily in front of an ornate golden desk. Behind him a flag of red hung on the wall, emblazoned with the gold phoenix of Larne. He mused how his elderly mind still pretended his body was young, and how walking a few feet had fatigued him so.

He picked up a heavy tome. It looked ancient, the battered leather bindings seemed to be burdened with the weight of the world. Its title and author lost to the ravishings of time. He opened it and began researching. For while he suspected what was going to happen today, he needed to know how.

Some of the text was undecipherable, but determined to see it through, he translated as quick as he could, and hoped it would give him some peace of mind. Page after tedious page went by.

Ancient prophecy’s and lost magic’s were spoke of, he even translated myths of dragons. These pages did little to ease his burden. He was desperately searching, wrinkled hands flicked the parchment pages until he read of the coming apocalypse. While translation could be wrong he was certain it was not. He seemed to feel it in his very core. A dread that filled his darkest thoughts, was slowly growing.

His brow furrowed, and he translated with a haste. He knew that death was coming to take him today, he'd accepted this price long ago. He read of the calamity that happened long ago, he read of the enemy that roamed the land and with the omen of death following him. As he read he seemed to gain clarity, a smile grew on his old lips as he drew his final breath.

His last thoughts were not on regrets, and while he knew what was coming he would rest easy
No one is useless in this world who lightens the burden of it to anyone else.-Charles Dickens