imagen_enigma's L.I.L.U. Book

The Prophet and The Historian

The Prophet

It's been billions of years since I came to existence.

I should've expected it.

I mean, what are ten eyes for if the Prophet of all Prophets can't see the future?

But I couldn't help it.

And emotions are stupid.

"CAN'T YOU DO THIS FOR ME!?" The prophet shouted, tears uncontrollably streaming down their face.

"I CAN'T JUST HELP YOU LOSE EVERYTHING YOU'VE BECOME!" The historian replied, trying his best not to snap any further.

"AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE SEEN, I'M CONSIDERED NOTHING!"

"WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT YOU AREN'T NOTHING TO ME!?"

"WHAT'S THE POINT OF SEEING VALUE IN UNUSABLE GARBAGE!?"

"YOU AREN'T AND NEVER HAVE BEEN GARBAGE!"

"WELL, WHY DON'T YOU TELL THAT TO THEM!?" 'There's no point.'

"WHY DON'T YOU TELL THAT TO THE PEOPLE WHO THREW ME AWAY AFTER ALL I'VE DONE!?" 'Did I ever do anything?'

"CENTURY AFTER CENTURY, EVEN AS MILLENIA PASSED, I GAVE THEM KNOWLEDGE!" 'Ah, but did they ever use it?'

"I LEAD THEM TO THEIR FUTURE!" 'A future where I'm gone.'

"AND THEY THREW ME AWAY, LEAVING ME LIKE DIRT ON A SIDEWALK!"

...

Silence.

There was deafening silence and ringing in my ears, but it's fine. Libraries are supposed to be quiet.

He put his hand on top of my head, didn't he used to say my hair felt like the clouds..?

I wonder if he'll say that again.

"I'll do it."

'Oh.'

"I'll erase everything."

'Wait.'

"If this will make you happy, I'll do it."

'I don't want this.'

The Historian

'It was a mistake.'

'I never should've tried.'

'This is my fault.'

'I'm the reason they left.'

'All because I was scared of death.'

"They've been gone for how long now?" The bartender struck up a conversation. "A century?"

I stared at the drink he set in front of me, recounting every time I lied on the library floor waiting. "99 years, 362 days, 18 hours..." I looked for a clock, an establishment in the middle of nowhere would probably have one. "13 minutes and 21 seconds."

I remember when they turned their back as vividly as I remember the books fading to grey as mortals eventually neared their inevitable fate.

I remember watching them leave as soon as their own books started desaturating from it's lively red.

I remember looking at thousands of records slowly being forgotten by the beings who held them.

"The Prophet is back." The insomniac cut into our conversation. "They're going on trial."

I might've snapped my neck as I turned to look at them, it's been ages, if you told me they'd come back a thousand years later I would've believed that more.

"You are too, Noir." The insomniac continued, and I laughed.

"I know you hold a grudge against me but-- that can't be true."

"They're deciding your punishment as we speak."

"What?"

'Ah, now that I think about it.'

'Has the library been recording memories while I've been away?"

'How long have I been sulking by myself and disregarding my surroundings?'

'How long has it been since I fed the spiders lurking in my realm?'

Falling and Inevitably Burning

The sun was setting as I felt the clouds.

The red sky reminded me of the spiders' eyes, a shame I can't see them for the last time.

When the spider vanished for a century, they believed it was fair to punish them for what they'd done. But before that punishment came mine.

I know what they were thinking, for with memories come every detail of a moment, and in that moment, they thought the spider was too dangerous to leave out of control.

Owls carry knowledge and wisdom, the same vanishing intellect that the spider's eyes have seen in the billions of years they lived.

Owls were never meant to fly and prevent a painful crash landing from the exosphere.

...

We're immortal.