a tear is shed - flash fiction
A dark and stormy day, noon indistinguishable from midnight. I stand here, high on this isolated crag watching the infinite struggle between the turbulent, windswept waves and rocks at the base of this rocky height.
In the distance, a form arises from the sea toward the sky, the whitecaps find a new challenger in their battle for supremacy of elements. To my eye, the figure is only discernible because it is darker than the surrounding storm.
I am drawn to the small strip of shoreline at the bottom of the precipice. The path is narrow, winding along the face of the escarpment. The winds icy fingers pry against my back, threatening to pull me from the safety of the cliff wall. Pellets of rain strike my face with the sting of nettles forcing me discern my way by feel. My thoughts returnto the security of the top as the track narrows, but I am compelled to continue. The edges of the rock shelf crumble underfoot.
Finally, I arrive at the beach below the prominence. Here, I find scant shelter from the raging gale. Scan the horizon to find the dark mass as the water, its strength sapped in futile assault upon the shoals, laps hungrily at my ankles. A sense of fate overcomes me as the swells create a conduit between us.
I walk forth on the sand, seeking a more favorable view, and a single ray of moonlight slices through the empyrean. The shaft draws a line from the darkness to the seashore. Automatically, I move forward. The light touches the sands above the tide mark. The span formed runs straight to the shadow I know now as an island. The feeling of destiny stirs my legs to motion. My feet, resting on the effulgence, stir to action of their own volition. I follow as the beam of incandescence as it becomes my solid passage through the fury of the waters. The storms churn all around, wave's tower and begin to crash, but the pathway is peaceful.
My stride is confident as I boldly walk across the inlet. A glance over my shoulder and I see the course behind me disappear, reclaimed by the surge. There is no turning back. Calm descends upon me for this is how life should be ordered.
The wet sand crunches under my foot as I step from the bridge. This land possesses a marvelous vista. Once home to a thriving civilization , despite laying in ruins, its magnificence is overwhelming. A sadness and nostalgia for home moves me as I realize I am home.
With the knowledge of home, I proceed unerringly to the cyclopean door. Down, down the cathedral corridors to the crypt.
Here, in this place he lies sleeping. A quote, from a language long forgotten, springs to my mind unbidden, the source unknown.
"That which sleeps may eternal lie and with strange aeons, even death may die."
The slow rise and fall of his titanic chest gives witness to his life and hope. The joyful site is almost uncontainable.
The sight of this majestic being lying imprisoned before me instead of free in the heavens where he belongs causes my eyes to swell with tears. A tear rolls slowly down my cheek.
Gently, a tentacle reaches from the shadows brushing the teardrop away.
Currently I live in Dallas, TX and work in the mortgage industry. I consider myself an introvert until you start talking about one of my passions: reading, writing, model building, tabletop wargaming, to name a few. Genres I enjoy are science fiction, horror, steampunk, fantasy and history. Vincent Price and H.P. Lovecraft are two of my childhood heroes.
"Imagine a world where rejection is honored, because you had the courage to try." --Tom Osher
I am here giving it a try. What about you?
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