He looked out the window onto the remnants of a life that was. A town that was once vibrant now filled with antique stores celebrating a past that came too quickly. Every day now, he would wake up in a panic as he saw that he was getting as rusty as that old telephone that used to connect him to his loved ones who now no longer live. All have gone. He will be gone soon as well. The muddy river was beckoning.
Ceberus was barking at the specter of Cronus and Rhea. He was, however, the unseen one. Yet he had lived. Now, now he was go back to being feared and felt. Now, he was to return to those guests he had left behind. The muddy river wasn’t that dark, after all. It had been his light. Now, it was time to be shrouded in the depths of despair.
Categories: Culture, death, Psychology, supernatural, writing prompt
Epic grade
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