04 Oct 2019 The Burning Fingers
The corridor moved as the tendrils of life moved through the building blocking out the last day of sun, as predicted in the evening as the north stars moved across the sky. The warped rays of light blasted the unfinished creature in the corner of the empty building.
A figure descended the stairs as the light cascaded down in flits and blares. “My father” the creature said, wiping the last drops of blood from his unfinished faces as the moon grow wide in expanding circles. “I’m but of no importance to you. Let my soul free and descend heavens stairs. I cant let you go, but be with me and take the key privileges that were offered to you my lovely man” I thought of him for years as being a companion as well as an acquaintance, far too many to mention. He once held me as a mother would hold an infant and as strangely as a lover, but for the most part he cut off my life suddenly. My body made up of different parts shocked the towns and its people and even in my last moments I passed a stage where the moments we once shared were nothing but a bitter memory in my soul’s worth.
One winter before I got to know him which was the last day of my life. He came towards me with a blade as the snow bombarded the ground with ice cold frost. The boarded up windows at night held a nativity scene before my eyes, but for the many who were fast asleep in their beds, the final moments never came to them, but for me laughing at the cold hearted killer who plunged a knife in my prying eyes full of life’s little moments.
I couldn’t fathom why my eyes were tightly shut, it seemed like a new world when I found this to be another act of cruelty, many of his explanations of ailments proved false and he chose to say I needed operating on. Like a slave I had believed my master to be true for his kindness he’d shown me through the years. That’s when my nerves kicked in and a fight and flight mode took over to grip and shove my body along a cold stone wall. I believed it to be it. My heart stopped as I realised it was where we stored the corn for the long winter as my hands reached out to touch the bales of corn that had been left in sacks and boxes scattered around the cold cellar.