His eyes focused on one thing, and one thing only. His father stood before him, smiling, watching him from behind blue eyes. His gaze was a proud fatherly gaze. He even chuckled when Alexander waved stupidly at him, as if that wave were enough to express the complete shock of seeing him still alive. You done good, boy, Alexander read his father’s lips, but could not hear his voice. Although he stood but a few feet away, it was the farthest he had ever felt from the man. He heard sirens in the background. The glow of flashing lights, red and blue streaks sweeping across their faces. His father smiled with tears in his eyes. He nodded, knowingly. With one final sweep of the lights, he was gone. Alexander cried out for him. His voice, a crestfallen warble, a shout into the emptiness that quickly surrounded him, he was truly alone. No one cared. No one was left to care. All faded to black. He had been swallowed up by the world, in its infinite depth, layers upon layers of time, each stacked neatly upon itself, telling its own story, the zeitgeist of those days captured in the amber, waiting to be unearthed. He was now among the relics of all there is to know and all that would never be known. It was a liberating feeling, to feel so completely lost, not knowing where he was going, and certainly not knowing where he had come from. He wanted to hide in the pit with the creatures that dwelled there. Their ashen skin, their translucent eyes—the children of forgotten fears, the shadows we all become when we grow old and desperate, clinging to the life we once had, the life we felt we had deserved all along. Alexander knew better. He knew what he deserved.
Posted on: Tue, 12 Nov 2013 00:09:20 +0000
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