Something Unknown.

As Days Pass.

Tip. Tip. Tap.

The common courtesy of rain on stone echoed my halls.

Tip. Tip. Tap.

The soft drip of a leaking board, dirtying the floor with it's grace.

Tip. Tip. Tap.

The sound of a storm mulling over my abode.

The soft footfall began to rouse me from my state of mind, each movement belonging to some small creature. They appeared the same as I, Bipedal, skin, hair, the common traits of our kind. Though I would never say they were of my kind, not in these passing years at least.

Tip. Tip. Tap.

The creature kneeled, copying my own stance, the eternal position I was forced to endure through these years. Their voice chimed in, attempting to speak to me, or, they spoke at me, useless words of sorrow and remorse, confessing false truths as they swore to be better.

They were never better, of course.

Tip. Tip. Tap.

The temple, my tomb, was something my past beloved built around me, to shield me from the wear and tear of the world around me. Of course, they're gone now, and the ones that do arrive refuse to aid me further. The once pristine halls that held me reduced to rot and vine, the windows that once held my visage in such a lovely gaze broken and forgotten.

Tip. Tip. Tap.

Another stone, this time one of my own. It was a shoulder piece, unhinged by the soft fall of water, soon enough it would be my arm, then my leg, then the rest would soon follow. Vines overtaking my being as I finally find the rest I so crave.

Tip. Tip. Tap.

In my last years I mull over the last few visits, 3, to be exact. The first was an older male, homeless or some other, each time he returned he looked at me with such... Worry, as if I was going to smite him where he stood. His being slowly crumbled as mine did, I take it he perished outside of my halls, though, as one day he never did return.

Tip. Tip. Tap.

The second was a young woman, holding some device, she spoke with such passion, though, through the years she began to lack her old enthusiasm, words of love, of happiness! Turning to soft spoken words of sorrow or hatred. The last months of her visits she spoke not, looking into my eyes for the first time. Her gaze held such... Sorrow, as if I had forged whatever conflict she was trudging through.

Tip. Tip. Tap.

The final wasn't a person, but a group of sparrows, the family had rested on my sword's hilt through all these years, the most precious of my followers, even if they didn't believe they were such. I watched the family grow, flock over yonder, then return again. Their generations end one spring night, the father flying for feed, though never returning, the mother doing the same and suffering such. I was the last downfall of the creatures, though, my hilt finally breaking down and falling, the chicks following.

Tip. Tip. Tap.

My final day. My keep had been long forgotten by this time, the roof that once shadowed me broken and done in. Over yonder some bucket lay above me, taking in soft droplets of water, never filling fully, till today, at least, each droplet was responded with a brace from me, simply waiting for that dreaded. Tip. Tip.

Tap.

And suddenly, I didn't have to think anymore, my head forced from utop my shoulders in one notion, my very being cut off from that lovely.

Tap.