An unfinished short story.
“Perspective.” The singular word echoed through the dimly lit caverns of an abandoned labyrinth of hallways within the bowels of an unknown location, gliding through the air in waves from the unseen mouth of its owner. The voice was deep and demanding, with an essence of ancient vocal chords, strong but dusty with extreme old age. A slight breeze commanded the flame of the candles lining the walls of the cavern to bow before erecting back to their flickering dance of light. The resonating echo faded from within earshot and once again the dark damp labyrinth returned to its stone cold silence. A light whistle rolled quietly down the hall on the back of a soft breeze indicating that somewhere, somehow the outside world could find its way in. The unseen speaker’s voice began its booming echo through the dim halls once again. Although this time the voice propelled with a sudden intensity that frightened a helpless field mouse back into his home within the crumbling stone walls of the hall.
“Perspective is the most powerful word in the languages of the current universe in which I have lived for so long.” A momentary pause, once again filled the caverns of stonewalls with silence.
The complete absence of sound followed the deep booming voice hidden within the confines of the hallway before its clamorous heavy tone picked back up.
“As long as one can manipulate the ideas of men, then one’s personal perspective can be twisted to the masses as the true path of righteousness. For there is no good, and no evil, as it is a man-made concept of what they have deemed acceptable for the masses. Does a wolf lose its sleep over slaughtered sheep; does the bear feel grief for the salmon in his snout? No! It is the way of things, the way of survival. The wolf finds solace with the sheep, the bear rid of his carnivorous burden with the salmon in his snout.”
After a momentary pause, again sounded the word, “Perspective,” as it protruded from the lips of an unknown and crooked sounding unseen mouth of a silhouetted slender figure sitting in the dark within a wide empty cavern at the end of the hall. A doorless entrance sat at the front of the cavern. Two torches on crooked thin logs sat six-feet off the floor on each side of the open doorway. The flames of the torches did not lick or stick to the tops of the logs, but rather floated sitting on air within an inch from the wooden surface. There was nothing visible within the room besides an ancient throne that was bathing in the little light the torches provided. The throne was carved in ninety degree angles and crafted from a simple gray stone slab. The owner of the drifting haunting dialogue sat upon this throne, barely visible in the fire light. The shadow in the chair grunted with arrogance as his dark pondering proceeded, the upper half of his body still drowning in darkness. His left leg was extended outward from the throne as if stretching, while the other was bent in leisure against the step below his throne. A powerful right arm rested on the throne, his left protruding towards his hidden face as if stroking a fine beard in contemplation. The figure drew in breath, about to speak once again when a mouse, who had been exploring the tunnels, peeked its head in wonder out from the stone walls to the left of the open doorway. He crawled cautiously from the tiny hole in the stone and sniffed the air before taking a few more steps forward. Right when he was about to reach up and sniff again, a powerful and swift force interrupted his caution and made room for his death. The shadow in the chair had pounced upon the helpless mouse from his throne, enclosing it in his fist before guiding it to his dry, crusty dentition. The face still unseen, his ivory white teeth, which looked oddly human, reflected his location from the firelight in the doorway, before closing down on the mouse’s head removing it from its body host. A flicker of flame in the dark revealed a bloody smile, and dripping lips. Satisfied, the figure slurped before wiping his mouth, dropping the headless corpse with a soft thud. He shifted back to his throne letting out a long and satisfied groan while adjusting his weight for comfort. The invisible thoughts within his head sounded once again, unheard by anyone but him. His lips no longer dry, his teeth no longer white but rather bright red, and wet with blood he returned to his thoughts feeling refreshed. With a quick snap he stood erect, striding in great bounds to a double door way that had not been there moments before, leading him out to a balcony that overlooked complete and endless darkness. The Void.
He scoffed and leaned against the balcony’s cold steel guard rail, feeling the steel sapping the warmth from his hands as he retreated back into the iniquity of his mind. An old saying passed through his mind. One he had heard on countless worlds, in countless realties – Angels and Humans, Serpents and Kings, the Devil resides in all of these things – Was he the Devil? Perhaps most who had encountered him thought so. But no, he was not the Devil, but for as long as the Shadow could remember, he had haunted men’s dreams to persist his survival.
TO BE CONTINUED
Short Stories
Likes
295 Views
Share: