"Death is not a hunter unbeknownst to its prey, one is always
aware that it lies in wait. Though life merely a journey to the
grave, it must not be undertaken without hope. Only then will a
traveler's story live on, treasured by who bid him farewell.
But alas, my guest's life has ended, his tale left
000: INCEPTUM FINIS
"Tu fui, ego eris."
What you are, I was...
What I am, you will be.
The lights in the room dimmed, leaving only the darkness to slowly eat away at any remaining specks. The room looked like a sunset being chipped away piece by piece, the twilight consuming the room inevitably.
It takes light to create darkness, and darkness to create light. One cannot exist without the other; both need each other to be complete. But isn't that all just the whim of the imagination? Anything can truly exist, and anything is possible. The human heart can only handle so much, and a fabricated reality is often easier to cope with than the real one. Some things are meant to scrape their way thorugh that void to the light.
The lone figure in the room reached out and ran his slim fingers down his shadow on the wall, tracing every dent and curve perfectly. The man's eyes remembered every pattern, everything out of place, and everything as it once was. For he even knew this would be the last time he would see it like this. This would be the last time he would be at peace with himself. He was slowly being consumed by it. Soon he wouldn't even know who he was. That was how he lived for as long as he could remember. It was arduous, coming to know one place, and months later forgetting it all. It happened over and over again, the cycle repeating itself with no end in sight.
To him, the last moments were always the most precious. Those would be the ones he cherished most. The rush of emotions he received in the last minutes were almost unbearable, but for the people who once held him dear, he would hold on to them as long as his soul allowed.
He placed his palm on the heart of his shadow. If for a second, his mind tricked him to believe he felt something, the beating of a heart he once had.
The shadows were deceiving, his imagination no different.
This was what he wanted, something he had told himself numerous times. Sometimes he didn't want to believe it, and other times it was all he believed in. Living something different every day, learning something new all the time, but seeing the same things happen over and over again. Not even in time did things change. Some things would always be the same, and therefore, he would keep coming back. No matter how much the place changed, he would arise again and again. Where something ends, something else begins. But that is just the cycle of death and rebirth. Another thing that was taken away from him.
His arm retracted back to his side as he made his way over to the window sill, the vivid light of the moon shining through him, the particles of light touching his cheek.
The moon was something that never changed, it would always shine brilliantly. It was something that was never forgotten in time, a memory that would always remain. A memory of days past.
The man reached his hand out toward the moon, towards the illuminated sky. Once it got to a certain point, there was no hope of stopping it. Nor did he ever try. This was his fate, his unstoppable destiny. Until it all ended, or man ceased to exist, it would continue for ages to come. The futures weren't looking so bright, so long as it continued, so long as man stayed as he was.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head up, black hair falling in strands down his pale face. "And so the game begins again."
Seconds later, he was gone. His body was still there, but he was gone.