Today on Drabble Wednesday, the end of time and worlds await...
A Child is Born
Anya approached the dais. The All Mother gazed down at her.
“The prophesized child of dread is finally born. To the royal family. You, Anya, have been chosen to kill the babe.”
Anya nodded, honoured and secretly elated. “I will leave at once.”
Two nights later, Anya plucked the baby from his crib, cradling him gently.
“Do not worry, little one, I will keep you safe. I will make certain you fulfill your destiny. One day you will destroy the world.”
With a smile, and the child in her arms, Anya slipped out of the palace and into the night.
The smallest puff of air, like the flutter of wings from a long dead butterfly, brushed his cheek. He touched his skin, awed by the tiny sensation.
It has been so long.
So long since he felt anything, any touch, caress, heard any sound, gazed upon anything but burnt earth, and the approaching black abyss.
Nothing but the soundless scream of the silence and the emptiness.
He smiled. And for the first time in forever he rose from the earth. He swayed, unsteady, unsure on his feet. He started wobbling forward, walking.
I will go meet the end of time.
Clack, clack noises, grinding creaks, whirs and squeaks filled the semblance of a nowhere room. A strange clockwork machine flicked and reeled and sputtered steam in a winding maze of peculiarity. Cogs and wheels spun on and on, while ball bearings rolled and tilted hither and yon, all twisted perfection of Rube Goldberg mechanics and absurdity. Each connection greased and harmonized with the next, all gyrating, puffing, wheezing life perpetually in motion.
Until it stops.
Until the last bit of starlight fades, and the pieces fail, and all the worlds turn to dust.
And this is how the universe ends.
© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved