Die Würmer von Eden

by Gabrielle L. Ricafrente (Blue_Notebook)

Draped in a dark blue suit lashed here and there with fine black lines to add complexity to a rather obscure singularity; the man with his broad back turned for my aggrieved vision to touch yet never to pull back walked forward, sun and Cimmerian augury burning against the tincture of his cloth, illuminating that whitewashed path made of cobblestones. It is fitting to say that I, a not so lone observer behind this thick wall of glass and time, followed him with calmness in my soul and conflict in my morale. To where? If honesty is allowed in my confession, then I must say that there are ends an individual must meet without uncalled for interference. And thus, I watched as a God of my curse’s right, while this singularity with his measured strides and cautious visage bleak of the past walked past Virgil and shook hands with the Devil in Gehenna’s entrance.

Author’s Note: The night has come again to claim what it yearns for for years. And I look at it straight in the eye without speaking. Or rather, I might not be able to speak again.

Credits to: Eloy Lannoo

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