Tuesday, December 16, 2014

(Prose) - Fear no more the heat of the Sun

Fear no more the heat of the Sun

It's a cold dark December night. As McKenzie sits in his study room, the heat from the fireplace barely warms his numb fingers and toes. Nevertheless, he sits, snugly in his bathrobe, on the old ornate chair that he sits on every evening. With much effort, he reaches one wrinkled hand towards the quill pen in front of him, and he begins to write.

"A fire is lit,"

He paused. Well mostly for a dramatic pause that only he himself can feel. He finds it hard to get the others who read his work to actually pause in their reading for effect.

"A fire is lit," he continues, "and all it illuminates is the dark dank mind of a lonely miser."

McKenzie coughs, sputtering bullets of spit onto his writing paper and knocking over his ink bottle as he reached out for his medication. The growing blob of dark ink on his table didn't faze him. He needed his medication.

"A fire is lit, and all it illuminates is the dark mind of a lonely miser. A fire is lit, but the body halts still." He feebly stutters to himself after gulping a handful of pills.

Pushing himself up from his study chair, McKenzie staggers to the fireplace, the mess on his table long forgotten. Putting out the fire as he prepared to turn in for the night, McKenzie talks aloud to himself:

"The fire is put out, the mind darkened. The body halts, but it's time for the boat to set sail."

And so McKenzie goes, as he does so every night, on his exploration of unlimitless realms beyond the land of the waking. Only this time, he won't be coming back.

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