Chapter One-Fifty-Nine: My Moon {I}

Alba M. Crane

The stone beneath my feet is hot, but I do not feel the pain of the burn; no, I do; it is that everything else within me hurts more than my body has the capacity to express.

My hand holds something putrid that I am terrified to gaze at. I can feel its cold, wet and slimy nature, almost like decayed flesh, yet I cannot abandon it; It feels too precious.

The room I walk into resembles a throne room, but the walls have crumbled, and there is no ceiling, all of which permits me to watch fire devour everything in sight.

There is nothing to quelch the towering pillars of flame; the sky is a burning white, not a cloud in sight, and the air is far too hot and dry to hint at any life.

It is as if I am watching the end of the world, and I feel…nothing.

Everything is over, nothing is left, and the emptiness in my chest only emphasises this...

I do not know how to describe it.

Not even tears find my eyes, or perhaps the heat has devoured them?

No... they just aren’t there.

My gaze t