In This Life or the Next

Five Hundred Years More

Author's Note: If anyone feels like certain descriptions are a bit vague, they're meant to be.

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The light of a twilight sun colored the sky a burning orange. I stared thoughtlessly into the cosmic ball of flames, no regard for what it may do to me. So much has already happened in this long life of mine, what's a little eye pain gonna do?

Besides, how could the sun stop me from waiting four hundred forty-seven more years?

I may be seventy-one, but I'll stand facing the sun for all time if I have to!

For her sake!

She promised to return after five hundred years, and I have to be there when that happens! After everything she's done for me--for the world!--how could I not pay her back with my faith? How could I not do anything when she did so much?

The joy, the tears, the laughs, the cries. Pretending that everyone was on drugs, shattering every stereotype, bringing entire worlds together.

A mere snapshot of what she accomplished while I simply watched on the sidelines.

My hands balled into fists, nails digging into skin.

Five hundred years?

So what?!

Even if I crumble into a pile of ashes after five hundred thousand years, I'll still be here waiting!

Should the Earth be consumed with the wrath of man or the wrath of God, I'll still be here waiting!

No matter what disasters I face or obstacles stand in my path, I'll still be here waiting!

For her!

It's the least I could do!

For her. . .

"Grandpa, are you thinking about her again?"

I jolted. Without me realizing it, Stella, one of my grandchildren, had come up beside me.

"Yes. I am," I told her.

She shielded her eyes as she looked towards the sun that I was staring into. "Why?"

"Because I'm waiting."

"For her?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

And without hesitation: "Because I have to."

"Why?"

"We made a promise. She, I, and many people around the world. Fifty-three years ago, in 2021, she left us, and promised to return after five hundred years. I have to uphold my end and have faith that she will uphold her end--no, I shouldn't even be doubting her," I said.

"Five hundred years?" Stella asked with a confused look. "But no one's ever lived that long!"

I laughed a dry laugh. "You think I don't know that? Of course there's no way I can make it to five hundred. I may be seventy-one, but I can feel that my time is nearing an end."

"So why keep waiting?" she asked.

Heh, such a trivial question.

"Because it's just about all I can do," I responded. "Let me tell you two tales of relentless waiting."

A distant memory resurfaced, or, memories rather.

Two men. From two different stories. Different, yet alike.