Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short paragraph...my feelings on the world in a nutshell...i'm looking at expanding this to a full short story at some point in the indefinite future

Submitted: December 07, 2008

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Submitted: December 07, 2008

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The world was long past burning.  It was now nothing more than a blackened hell now.  
He walked down the street, dust was kicked up with every step, leaving an eerie trail of haze behind him.  He walked as if it was a late December evening, with his hands buried in the pockets of his large, black overcoat.  He paused to stare as he passed the twisted remain of a streetlight.  It was mangled into a something that resembled an old and gnarled tree branch, that no longer produced its fruit.  The shops on the right and left were filled with nothing but shadow and debris.  The window panes were empty but the real goods were now on display.  A single distinguishable item leaned against the back corner of the store.  It was a mannequin, half of its body was torn away.  It remained with its perpetual smug smile and its empty interior, nothing more than a piece of outdated plastic.  He though of this fate and whispered, “Sic transit gloria mundi.”


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