Babel
DESIREE ASCEVICH
One being moves through the wreckage. Slowly stepping on newly dead ground. The ash does not stir, there is no air to create such movement. A vacuum now sits where chaos and energy used to dance. His steps falter as a droplet appears on the ground in front of him, momentarily darkening the white dust in a small, neat circle. He hesitates. They fight so hard. Fleeing blindly, crying, shouting, begging. What a waste. Each meteor causes the ground the tremble savagely. A ghastly figure emerges on the rooftop beside me. Favored son.
Another circle appears. Shocked, he finds wetness on his face. He has not wept in… millennia. He wonders if things are so unchangeable. His mind has been changed before. Perhaps there is still… hope. He takes a step back hesitantly. This is an old, old trick. This, he has not done since time was in its infancy. He does it now.
Electricity is dead. The darkness makes me question myself. My vacillation ends as clusters of people squabble, envious of belongings. Even now they do not seek out betterment. They glare and scowl, ignoring the bursting blisters blooming on their skin. The wrath causes more mayhem. Planes drop bombs. Countries have been blown
67
Does this give him joy at last? No reply. The world rattles. The buildings will crumble. He leaves on a whisper. Pride came before the fall. It is time for this to end. The moon fractures. The tides untether. The volcanos erupt. Fragments of light stream through darkness.
PROSE
The world is a torment of sapphire midnights. Gaping holes that used to be stars rest mutely, greedy mouths that will never again be full. The silence is loud, echoing through empty space. No rustling wind, wildlife, electrical hums. Stillness after the clamor of death. The ashes fall more heavily as the atmosphere dies. Micro asteroids moving through the void. An end to bedlam. Observing the actions of my consequences. Alone at the end of the world, the peace is dizzying.
