A little boy with golden hair like straw danced in a circle. He had a tiny golden crown seated on his head, one with no jewels or other adornments on it.
This little boy fleeted and flit, darting from doorway to doorway with no notice of life moving around him. In his innocent mind, time stood still, and he was determined to live in his one special moment for eternity.
In this second, he was always eating a strawberry tart and a bowl of cream. He was always folding up paper after paper and soaring his makeshift paper airplanes out the window. The glided across the land, each one inscribed with his own customized message:
'All hail the king!'
Of course, he was not really the king, nor did his country even have a monarch to begin with. But no matter how many times his mother ripped his silly paper crown off of his head, he'd simply make a new one with a few folds of paper.
This was one of the everlasting things that existed in his bubble of time. When the world stood still, he could dash through the house with a cape and a scepter, arms spread as though he was flying.
He could envision his pale body as one of those powerful metallic beasts, engines whirring and rippling through the misty gray sky. He could drift above the land with a yellow crown and watch the ocean on the horizon.
The waves would burble and shake at his presence, stirring and churning the sand below. It would cause the multicolored rocks to blend together in the cool waters. And every citizen far and wide would know his motto, his greatness.
But he always came back from these fantasies as logic took over his thinking. He knew clearly that it was not merely one moment, but a collection of many moments. And even if they were, each moment had to end, and he was snapped back into reality.
In this world of flesh where dreams went to die, rather than him being able to live in the peaceful concealment of childhood games, he was instead haunted by the darkness.
The darkness from the curtains laid in front of the windows by night. The darkness of the inside of his eyelids as he scrunched them tight. The darkness he felt when his heart plummeted as the ground shook and his ears were about to burst.
The darkness as the sulfur rain poured down.
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2018 Writing Scrapbook
Short StoryI have already filled my previous writing scrapbook consisting of poetry and short stories from past years. This is a collection of all of my short stories and poetry written over the course of 2018. Contents: 1. Lanterns in the Sky (Sci-Fi) 2. The...
