Girhoe
I heard that dusk is the point where it’s the darkest. There is nothing but dusk inside of me, pure and unadulterated darkness. It didn’t make any sense, but at the same time, it’s all fitting into place.
The familiar darkness residing back into place in my body, but I’m not turning into stone. There is no mercy for me. No respite from the impending pain that comes. My chest feels as if a arm has punched through what my wife called ribs.
Wife.
“She’s not here anymore” I whisper to myself. Out of nowhere, the pain just punched me to my knees and I’m grasping at the nothingness that connects me to her. There was no her anymore.
Then there shouldn’t be a me.
“Son” his voice is just an echo, but we aren’t in the caverns anymore. I only remember walking through the open fields
