"Look at this one."
Inside an enormously large cavern, with glittering walls and the steady drip of water echoing through the darkness, two scholars armed with flashlights study markings upon the wall. This particular marking was bigger than the others, extending many arm lengths in width and even taller still.
"Remarkable," says the other scholar.
The marking told a story, one of a great wind that swept everything from the land. Trees and entire cities were no match for this wind, but at the far side of the marking, a single figure, stood tall against the destruction. This great wind broke upon the outstretched palms of the one brave enough to stand tall in the face of annihilation.
"Do you think this is how it happens?" asks the first scholar.
"If so, then this could be the single largest discovery of our cycle--of any cycle," replies the other. "Think of all the history that will be re-written, how the world will change, how... rich we'll be!"
The two scholars jump for joy, celebrating their accomplishment. They are too excited to notice that the steady drip of water echoing through the cavern has stopped--too wrapped up in their notions of wealth to see that the darkness has grown deeper, taking on a shape of its own.
Their flashlights flicker, and are extinguished. The scholars slowly come down from the jubilation and attempt to reignite their flashlights by banging them against the palms of their hands. This proves futile, but something else causes them to stop: They can see their breaths in front of them, as if they have stepped into the cold expanse of space.
"It's here," one whispers to the other.
A low crackling noise, like bones snapping, lurks closer in the darkness. The eyes of the first scholar drifts away from her colleague, into the depths of nothing. She holds her breath, but it's already too late.
In a flash, right before her eyes, her colleague is torn to pieces.
Screaming, she sprints in the opposite direction, abandoning her life's work without hesitation. Maybe that's all it wants, she thought. The marking. Maybe if she just runs away...
She can hear it behind her, feel it on the back of her neck. Snapping bones so close she feels that they are her own. A single second longer and it will have her.
The next foot she places down finds only air. The ground gives out beneath her and she begins to fall and fall and fall. She has time to think along the way. This, she thinks, this is a much better death.
YOU ARE READING
This Story is Junk
FantasyVampiric pirates. A century old war between dinosaurs and robots. A continent of people who can't love. Underground cities run by talking books. The end of the world. The start of a new one. This is a story about nothing. This is a story about every...
