Hsien W Lou
© Hsien W Lou 2014
'The spark of life. The source of life.'
The Council voices were joined in unity. Their voices in different sounds, one in soprano, the second in tenor, the third in contralto, the forth in baritone and finally the fifth sat silent. The sounds of music formed a melancholy melody that echoed in the dark room. The Council had gathered, everyone one of them in their thin overgrown robes, the cloth fell from their chairs to the ground, providing the black floor with warmth. They were seated around the stony circular table, each with their hands and elbows on the table. Their features were barely visible in the dark, yet even in the light their faces were hidden by the grey hoods attached to their robes, the only evident trait seen was their pale scaly skin, if ever curious eyes had dared analyse their faces. But the fifth one was entirely different, he was the oddest one of the five. He wore a thin black robe, with a black hood and had no pale or scaly skin detectable; within his hood was an abyss of nothingness where his face should be.
There were five doors behind every one of their chairs and beyond them dim glowing white lights shone. They had arrived to discuss the discrepancies of the fifth one, which they had thought resolved with their musical note in harmony.
The Council members hated light, it hurt their eyes except once again for the odd fifth one. The light never bothered him but the Council business did. He did not really like this Council production nor did he enjoy much of his work. He had forgotten how to speak because of this terrible dark job yet he had been doing it forever, since space collided with time and the universe had begun. During the aftermath of the whole encrypted universe he had lost his voice and had to make use of his pen and scribbling notes, his son had complimented him on his awful handwriting and he had gotten used to the flow of writing his thoughts and never left anywhere without his ink yet in this dark room where all five members gathered and could easily see through the shadowy darkness, he had forgotten his pen, he had forgotten his ink. He had forgotten his only real voice.
The Council members began to stand, assuming the fifth member had agreed, they stretched their long grey woolly robes not eager to return to the dim lights outside of the room. Yet were longing for different scenery than the ancient scaly faces that they were accustomed to. The fifth one still sat as he heard their grumblings and mutterings in a harmonic tune moving to reach their individual doors and then departed. He sat alone and more still than usual as he thought how he was going to send his only son, down to the green pits of earth.