by Anonymous
The land was choked in dust, tendrils of wind whipped past stirring the cacophony of debris, as the skeletal figure glided forwards shrouded in a cloak of darkness. A hush of silence descended amongst the crowd of people as they watched, eyes wide with glimmering fear and coiled hate, the pale hand that arose from the black abyss of darkness was twisted, gnarled, its claw-like appearance only served to incite more fear. A soft hissing whisper cut through the silence like a knife, yet no one spoke, it grew louder, more insistent, demanding to be heard. “I Am Your Hero.” The words twisted and grotesque held an edge of truth that left those listening compelled to obey. In the distance warped by age and time, sun and dust was a door, a very rusty old metal door. It was held together only through sheer will and determination. No one knew what was behind it for once one went in they never came out. A child no more than 10 years old was staring spellbound at the hand, it reached out caressing softly, the touch one would expect from a mother before its gnarled twisted hand tightened, yanking soft hair, nails digging into smooth skin, the figure began dragging the child towards that door, with its rusted metal and rotting wood it gleamed and shivered in the dying light of dusk, like a promise. The child didn’t cry out, didn’t say a word, only silence reigned in that pre-natural stillness that seemed to have fallen onto the crowd of people. That same twisted gnarled hand turned the gleaming doorknob, the only thing to have escaped the demise of its larger overall design, and cool light rippled over the crowd creating a snaking pattern that writhed and leapt. With a final decisive boom, the door swung shut, the ripples of light cut off abruptly. The silence was all that could be heard whispering into the mass of people a hum that grew with each pulse of light. Silence reigned supreme.
Elements Magazine 