We Found Our Way in the Dark

The knoll of an old church bell bellows through the stone corridors. A man quietly wakes. He slowly leans up into a sitting position. The man’s wet, frail feet feel the cold floor in the dark as the short hollow figure stoops out from his bed. Guiding himself with a damp wooden stick to find his desk he perches on the desk chair, striking fire to the wick of a small candle. Revealed is a frugal, scant room with a colour the same as his cheer — collapsed, bereft.

 

Upon his desk lie piles of parchment, he takes a blank piece and stares at it knowingly. He dips his pen in the ink and the tip begins to canter across the page –

The shout of silence is getting louder. The government is divorced from reality and has long pled insanity; if only we had signed a prenup on our freedom. The children whisper of the seditious abyss. The old men connive of their next evil trick. It is a game. But it is a game that has no known end; it never began yet was played anyway. And so is the short story of our lives…

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