Paradise Burnt

He trots the ashes silently trying to find something to salvage from the crash. The after-world has ended. This immortality he was promised is not as perfect as he’s imagined. Heaven is now burnt, and he realizes it has full reason to.

The gardens of Eden now extend before him covered with black soot, shimmering. The sky has crashed, leaving a white hole of infinite dimension where another universe loomed.

He looks around for a friend, any face he might recognize but the shadows walking around him are consumed in eating the remains of fallen sky.

One shadow starts approaching, but he backs away suddenly signaling disgust. He feels the creeps and wishes for a human to show his face.

Another shadow swarms around him but he manages to escape. He is revolted by these shadows’ nature.

He walks alone in solemn silence. Shadows start disappearing like smoke. He looks back and finds the two shadows following, resisting disappearance. But he starts running and running, screaming for the two shadows to leave him alone.

He finally loses track of them, but before him, from the ash covered earth, the two shadows emerge and face him. He screams at them, curses them and releases anger and revolt. Just then, one shadow turns into smoke and disappears.

He turns his back and resumes walking right before the other shadow in its turn vanishes.

He walks in this paradise burnt, his head bent down, he feels a tingling on the back of his neck. He raises his head to see ash falling from the oblivion above. He reflects upon his misfortune, blames the sky for falling and the earth for burning. He decides he should not move. He shall spend the immortality given in immobility. He sits and waits for the ash to cover the world. He sits and fades in the ruins of a once perfect world.

But as he sits, a creature passes him. A creature with two faces, the one old and wrinkled whose eyes possess striking wisdom, and the other young and beautiful with eyes innocent and passionate. As the creature passes, it leaves a trail of sand behind it. The young face looks at him and moans for his pain, while the old face smiles and shakes.

A heart is a heavy burden, speaks the old face with a wheezing voice. Choose your emotions.

A heart is forever young. Says the young face. It is a wide sea that enjoys beating against the fiercest tempest. Make those winds suffer, let them never go their way.

– to be continued.

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2 thoughts on “Paradise Burnt

  1. Romeo

    Alright these are the questions:

    Are the shadows specific people in your life or general characteristics that you find in people?
    Who are the two shadows that are tracking you? And why did they disappear?
    Who is the creature that passes you? Are they your two split personalities?

    I have always wondered when I couldn’t write something as a poem if I could write it like this masterpiece of yours but I was always hesitant I didn’t know what to call it (essay? piece of writing?) or what makes it different from a poem.

    Your writings have changed from dark and sad to rebellious, to a mix of both. I love this change and I want to read more of this as I wish I could write something in a similar manner to this.

    Reply
    1. theribz Post author

      The creative process, in writing as well as in every art can never and should never be restricted. As a writer you have a right, no, an obligation to express in every means possible without expecting yourself to label your piece. You should not care whether your work is a poem, a story, an essay or simply a stream of consciousness, as long as it expresses.
      As for the other questions you’ve asked,
      Firstly, you have mistaken the author with the narrator. I am the author, and even though the story is written in first person, the narrator is not myself.
      And what you ask me to reveal is beyond my capacity. I could, but I would not. Keep your critical mind thinking, hang on to every single word, for each has major significance in revealing the symbols beyond each character, and build up your own interpretation, and just then it matters not what the author means, or what the narrator goes through, it only matters what you, the reader, receive and react to.

      Reply

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