Life is an evanescent butterfly that flies by as quickly as a high speed train with an only ruthless conductor. In hindsight, everything seems to be no more than a few flashes compiled to a bigger picture called life. Sixty Flashes of Life is a coll...
Just one little star, happy that you've trod such a long path.
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I must thank you.
There are millions of work on Wattpad that only wait for their time to be revealed. Thousands of wannabe writers never see their own readers. Hundreds of thousands of stories will be crushed by the wheels of ruthless time.
But you have chosen this one, why? Many reasons, even more theories—no matter which one is real, I am still deeply grateful for you to be here and giving my work some of your precious attention, even if it is the only chapter you have read.
This journey is finished.
This story will go into my collection of stories that I want to compile and print later on in my life without a certain hope to publish them. They may be good, may be trash; but, despite everything, I am happy to have given a chance for this story to live.
The next story, a novel to be precise, is not far off – I will try to put my heart and soul into it, and then another, and another. Like Achilles, slaying his enemies until his own life is ceased, I will keep writing. More modestly, of course, but with no less passion.
In case if you decide to stay with me and read my next works, it will be even more than I could ever dream of.
The story.
Everything has to come to its end. Some may find the story sad, others will try to look on the bright side of it.
As I told you at the beginning of the story, in the author's note, I had an answer about the question of Death. Eliot found his own realization of it, and had to face with its real identity. His fate is unknown, though; no one can really tell whether he survived that night or was taken away by Him.
I hope you have made your own opinion on this topic – maybe not clear, not certain, but still some understandings of it.
While editing the story, I have had situations when I could meet Him a few times; am I afraid of it? I think yes. Not so much as ever before, but it is extremely hard to accept the fact that you are mortal – something that Ancient Greeks always meditated about, huh? And while my mind tries to accept this idea, my emotions repulse it, trying to shove it in the farthest drawer possible.
I think this problem is not only mine . The world, society, does everything to forget about Death; and when He actually comes, we try to avert diver our eyes from the person who has met Him.
Do we have the right for it? We sure do.
This is a slippery road, though;
Heck, who am I to preach?
I must thank you one more time.
I truly appreciate each and one of you who have invested your time and energy in any form whether it is likes, votes, comments, follows or just a silent reading.
