Today, on this first Drabble Wednesday of 2017, I bring odd tales of the old year passing into the new...
“You just had to take the scenic route! On our end of the year holiday! And now the engine’s failed! And we’re stuck in some backwater nowheresville!”
“How was I to know? The engine was working just fine until, well, five minutes ago.”
“It was working just fine... How many times have I heard that?” Lips turned into a pouty sneer. “How long until mechanical assistance shows up?”
“They said about an hour, depending on their hyper-drive.”
“What! An hour stuck above this dreg of a planet called Earth? What could be worse?”
“Stuck over the spice mines of Kessel?”
Tales of Time
Father Time and Baby New Year, such quaint images of the one year passing to the next. Iconic representation of endings and beginnings.
Not true, of course.
The truth is far less... simplistic.
The Keeper of Time is more than an old man with a scythe and an hourglass. I am millennia and a millisecond breathing in infinite universes. I change the fabric of existence, snuff heartbeats with a flick of my finger. Each year I grasp life and death in my hands, and inevitably some of you will pass me on my long road.
Will this be your year?
They say the new year will be better.
They’re not paying attention.
We like it that way.
The signs are there, but humans are blind to our foul taint. Our coming does peculiar things to a world. Strange climate oddities, increased deaths, unnatural anger and aggression.
We love the hate. It feeds us.
We will be strong on this world. We will feast on this world.
Consume it whole and leave nothing but an ashen corpse.
It won’t be long now.
The dead will rise from their graves, and the darklings will live.
Be seeing you soon...
© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved