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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2193559
by Jump
Rated: E · Fiction · Fantasy · #2193559
This is a very short fantasy story about life after death and the truth behind humanity.
                                       THE AFTERLIFE

         It was late in the evening. Every home in the town had a black sinister darkness lurking inside of it. On the streets were only the bravest ones or maybe only the utmost foolish. It is a myth; once last light dies out on the sun dial and day slowly fades. Dark kingdom shall arise and that is where shadows rule with their cold breath. Its servants will visit the sanctuary and any living soul that was left on the street will tremble from fear, not letting out a single breath in the wake of the Servant.
Dark phantom slowly stepped over small gravel covered pathway. Every step it took seemed slow, heavy, burdened by the world itself. Old gray rags hung over his entire body, making his face but a black void. With each step, in the dead silence of the night wind carried the sounds of chains slowly crawling over the gravel path, leaving two distinct lines.
         Slowly the phantom came to where his destiny calls him. Old building was stretching above him high into the emptyness of pure black starless sky. Three large black marble stairs led to a giant dark wooden doors. From the dark void of his hood; cold, hard and slow breathing could be heard. He knew. He knew that again, that duty is upon him. There was another traveler he needed to pray for. In that cold, truly dark night, sound of chains rang again. Every step louder then the last, slowly the phantom made his way up the three stairs. In front of him were giant doors decorated by artworks depicting celebrations, dragons and fairies dancing in the sky, immortals and high elves sharing drinks and exchanging knowledge, numerous women and their men celebrating their newborn children. "Life is full of irony." Thought the phantom as large wooden doors creeked open. Doors engraved with celebration of life served as a gateway into death. Heavy scent of wax filled the air in front of the Sanctuary.
Slowly the phantom vanished in the dark of the building. Inside of the building there were black marble pillars on both left and right side. Pillars lead straight into the center of the room, where a platform resided with an altar on top of it. Phantom slowly reached for his rags that covered his head. Thin, long boney fingers pulled the hood off of its head. Revealing old wrinkly face of a woman. Grayish red hair was falling over her shoulders. Her eyes green as jade looked towards the heart of the Sanctuary. She headed over to it. There was a book there laying surrounded by wax candles that slowly but surely encased the book in its entirety. As it is now, it seemed as if you would never be able to turn even a single page of the book. However, it was as if wax was never even there, womans experienced eyes looked at it. Yet another set of empty pages adorned the book just waiting to be filled. Woman breathes in heavily in sorrow; and looks around. Everywhere her gaze fell, the walls, the archways and high wall statues of unknown gods and heroes, were covered in candles, they were everywhere, thousands upon thousands of them. Decorated stone floor was entirely covered with candles. Wax was slowly flowing down from the church walls like a collection of stalactites. There were millions upon millions of candles and each and every one represented a living, undying soul. If anyone saw this, they would stand on her place in admiration of the view, but she knew better.
She looked at every single candle, wether it was small or big it didn't matter, with a saddened look. In front of her eyes flashed images of a child dying at arms of enemies after being sent to war. She saw wars, all the people, their thoughts, their unfulfilled wishes, their mourning families. She lived trough every single moment of pain a prisoner went trough during his tortures. It is said, you can not judge a man without walking trough life in his shoes. So for her to judge them she had to live as they lived, drink as they drank, and die as they died. The old lady closed her eyes. Sore from the experience. She opened a new page in the book. Took a quill and started filling in the empty chapters. She was sad. This book was so thin in the beginning. She used to be so happy. During the times immortals were still in this worl such a book did not exist, however as immortals started dissappearing from this world one day it appeared in front of her and gave her purpose. She was there so nothing gets truly forgotten. As the years passed, thicker and thicker the book became. She stopped counting the pages long time ago.  And here we are again. Yet another lifetime of pages needed to be filled in. She silently started writing, living trough the man's life, she wrote it down, sentence by sentence. Slowly as the last sentence came to its end; small flame appeared above the book. It was blue. "Ahh, you were a good man I see." primeval and old voice whispered. It was the womans voice. Old hands cupped the flame underneath, guarding it like a drop of water on her palm. Slowly she walked to the old gray candle near the doorway. "Here you will be. Closest to the rest of the world so you can hear the whispers of the wind carrying the messages left by your family." The flame jumped from old womans hand onto the gray candle. Old jade eyes watched the blue flame burning peacefully. Woman started a chant to protect the flame and dedicate it. In the end she said: "May this light shine in front of your soul as your guide so you can find your place in the afterlife."
         Silent tear slid down the woman's face as she put the rags back over her head. Moment before her face was covered in darkness final moments of this mans life flashed in her eyes.
Slowly, the phantom walked out into the cold night. Leaving candle lit tale behind him. The cold winds started whispering. Even the world felt the grief left behind; the unforgotten memories.

It was a dark night indeed.

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