Creativity: Epilogue

I write things in strange orders sometimes.

Anyway, this is the epilogue to the unwritten epic novel that's contained mostly in my head. It spans three books and thousands of years. One day I may actually write it.

Right now it's about 1:45 AM, so I may have to proofread this tomorrow when I'm awake. At any rate, enjoy. Criticism - constructive criticism - is, of course, welcomed.

Epilogue

It was summer.

A gentle breeze blew across the lawn, neatly cut grass waving softly. The leaves of the great oak trees that shaded the garden rustled gently, the flowerbeds rippled softly, every plant, every petal enjoying the fresh air and warm sunlight.

There was a statue in the middle of the garden, she noticed. It was large and grey, and very worn, as if it had been there for a very long time. Six figures – three men and three women – stood or sat on a long block of stone, each of them intently watching something that she could not see. Beneath them, on the long side of the block, was a small metal plaque.

She crossed to the statue, enjoying the feeling of the grass between her toes, and knelt down in front of it. She ran her hands over the plaque - it had words written on it, just nine lines, but she had long since forgotten how to read. She carefully traced each letter with her fingers, then sighed and stood up, reaching for the hand of one of the stone figures. It crumbled to dust at her touch.

"It must have been very old," she said, drawing her thin cloak closer about her shoulders. "Older than me. Maybe older than the whole world." She knelt down again and caressed the earth; it failed to crumble to dust at her touch. "Maybe even older than the sun and the moon and all the stars."

She stared for a spell at her hand, wondering at how the warm earth clung to her fingers.

Behind her came a little noise; a little peeping sound, the sound of something very small. She turned, and then smiled, for a tiny yellow baby bird had come up to her, twittering inquisitively.

"Hello there," she said, reaching out to it. It hopped into her hand and chirped, turning its head to look at her in the manner that birds had. She reached out and gently tickled its chin with her other hand.

"You know," she said to the bird, standing up and starting to walk. "I think I used to love this place." She cut her feet on a sharp, rocky outcropping as she crossed the lawn, but she had long since forgotten how to bleed.

"But I forgot." She stood under a tree and looked up, searching for the sun between the leaves. "I think that was a long time ago. A time that I don't remember any more."

Looking down at her hand, she realised she was talking to a shard of rock and sighed. "It's cold," she said, forgetting it was summer. She turned her back to the tree and leant against it, staring at the statue again.

"I think... that I knew those people," she said. "A man with a sword, and a girl in white." She picked them out from their fellows with her finger. "But they couldn't stay here, so they had to build a statue so we wouldn't forget them."

"I think I forgot them."

Sadness rippled through her, but she had long since forgotten how to cry.

"...It's so cold."

She lay against the tree for a while, staring at the bleak sky.

"Do you think that the clouds will ever come back?" she asked the bird, forgetting that it wasn't. "I miss the way they caught the sunset. Pink and gold and orange, too many shades to name them all, and every one of them beautiful." She looked to the horizon, searching for the sun – but it was dark and cold now, and she had long since forgotten how to see.

She shifted, trying to get comfortable on the cold, hard ground. "I wonder how long it's been since I last ate." Though she didn't know, it had been millions of years – she had long since forgotten how to eat. "I miss eating. I miss the wind, too."

She moved her hand through the space in front of her, feeling nothing but cold numbness – there was no air here, but she had long since forgotten how to breathe.

"...I'm so cold. Cold and tired." She slid down the rock she was leaning against, tearing her cloak and her back in the process, until she was lying on her side. "Perhaps I'll go to sleep here."

Her eyes slowly drifted shut, and the last speck of warmth in the universe winked out.

And that is how the world ended, with a woman who had only dust and forgotten memories to see her through her final hours.