A dragon happened upon the townsmen crying
and found them with their women lying
and brushed them with its wings flying
and never left a life.
How many times must history repeat itself?
History must repeat itself.
Find an old bookshelf
hidden by some miscreant elf
and left there for centuries to find.
They sat by the edge of the forest, smoking their cigarettes and thinking about the wind that whispered. The sun had set, the moon had risen, and two red dots were the only marks that an outside observer may have seen. The grass rustled with each passing breath of air.
“You hear it?”
“It says it’s time. The forest is waiting for us. Too long and it’ll be another two years before we can try again.”
“I know. Ready?”
“You need to take this seriously.”
Die with the wind and the rustles of the moon the shaking of the earth. Twist and burn and turn and go around again and in out back when the wind dies.
Moss covered the stone temple in the forest. Vines stretched vast distances, yawning in their weight. A green light cast a strange glow upon the forest, from whence the pair came.
“I don’t believe it! It’s the temple! It’s actually here!”
“I see it.”
“Can you understand what this means? All the power, anything we want, here! It’s here! ALL OF IT!”
Orb is the ring the death that stretches the limb the tree falls on the ground. Ever after its leaves dwindle and smoke and binding pain brings the dim light glowing orb.
“GIVE IT TO ME! ALL OF IT! ALL OF THE ULTIMATE POWER!”
The mind of this one ripped open and exploded into the universe. Its essence mingled with the stars and the dust between, causing a gravitational shift that extended the Earth’s year by exactly two days and ninety six minutes. All remember the mind.
It’s tearing me up inside!
From inside the man, peeled out of his skin, his heart walks out through his chest. His back is arched. His face gripped with constipation. Red, sweating, dripping down, melting into the floor. His heart walks out and runs to the door, opens it with its tiny hands.
The man opens his mouth to scream, but an arm comes out, a great arm that reaches for the heart. The door is shut now, the heart is gone. The arm leads a shoulder, a body, a head, exiting the man’s mouth.
Gurgle, gurgle, blood and spit, it rises and coughs and looks at the dead man on the floor.
It says, “That is me.” The body on the floor twitches and shakes, dries out, and is all collected from itself into a single dot that disappears into the ground.
The new man stares at this and knows he is witnessing his own death. His heart is gone and the world is gray. He opens the door and walks forth into blinding light, unsure of what is to come.