Michael Clifford Shorts

BGM - Forever Is Only a Moment Away

I dunno what I'm doing anymore

Whelp

Michael:
The black had grown over your eyes like scales, a thick, tangible layer of impersonal darkness that concealed all from you. Night was perpetual now, but with no moon and no stars to guide you, tell you where you were going or had been.

The ground was cold under your feet, sending a chill up your spine and prickling your skin into gooseflesh under your thin nightgown. The sediment from whatever dirt or sand was covering the road's surface was slightly damp and oozing up between your toes with every step.

You didn't know what the road was or where it went. It seemed like it lasted for forever, and that that's how long you'd been walking on it. A never-ending journey to an unknown location.

Someone, or something, was calling you. Drawing you in with unintelligible whispers echoing through your ears that just seemed to promise everything you desired. Love, power, strength and beauty. It was right there, only a few more steps.

And some more.

And more and more and more.

A light breeze against your skin, further cooling you as you stumbled on. You couldn't stop if you wanted. A puppet on a string, some invisible all-knowing being driving you forward. You listened to the promises, everything was right there, you only needed to reach out and take it.

There was a change. A warmth against your skin like the glow of the sunlight on a warm day. A comfort even though you couldn't see the light, only feel it as it became more powerful, more present, with every step.

Just a few more.

One foot in front of the other, a straight line, walking forward. Time was meaningless. You'd been walking forever and had just started. Your body was growing numb and you could feel your environment changing. You weren't alone anymore, there was something, someone, there. Was this it?

"Hello?" You came to a stop and tentatively called out into the blackness.

You got no verbal response, but the warmth grew more intense, searing you again and again as powerful waves lapped against your body. The sensation was a powerful, but not painful burn. You hadn't ever felt so alive. The pulsations grew closer together, and became more powerful as you actually felt yourself slide backwards. Whatever it was, it was nearly there.

The black covering over your eyes began to melt from the extreme heat. As you blinked, your vision began to clear and you felt tears dyed black cut down your cheeks like obsidian rivers.

As you blinked and wiped at your eyes, the thick barrier was removed, and you could finally see. In front of you were two dark spots, perfectly circular pools of ink. As you focused on them, they began to expand outward, eating away at the ring of evergreen surrounding them. The green was bordered white, and you realized that you were looking at two green eyes. You blinked at tried to focus on the blurry outline of the face surrounding them, but your gaze was focused on nothing else, the pale expanse of flesh surrounding the eyes evidently meant little.

You didn't know how long you spent looking at the eyes, like with your walk it seemed time left and nothing and everything happened.

After some period, a deep voice rang through your head, "I can give you power."

...

An iron throne sitting tall and proud on a raised platform in a room with thick stone walls. Torches illuminated the immense area, lined evenly down the endless walls.

"If you come with me, I will give you power." The same low, male voice repeated the promise.

You took a step up toward the throne. It, like everything else, was immense. The back and bottom of it were upholstered in thick red velvet that looked softer than anything you had ever seen, and the armrests had long tarnishes down their lengths like hands had been caressing them for centuries. This was an ancient place.

You walked even closer and felt yourself changing. Your thin nightgown thickened as layers upon layers grew out from it. A long red skirt that matched the throne grew down until it just barely touched the stone floor. Threads grew and knitted themselves into sleeves down your arms, and hardened around your middle. This was a gown. From the place where the hem of your skirt touched the ground embroidered roses sprang up, twisting up and around you, growing into beautiful patterns through the fabric of your dress.

Finally you reached out to touch the worn marks, feel the places where great leaders had sat before you. Your palm came into contact with the cool metal and it felt like a shock of electricity running up your veins. This was power.

The throne itself groaned, the sound of metal scraping against metal. You winced and tried to draw back but your hand was stuck down firmly, like a magnetic pull.

"Ahhh," you gritted your teeth as the sound grew louder. At the top of the throne you could see something moving, spindles and wires of red-hot iron knitting themselves together. A hot red circle glowing and growing slowly up in delicate loops and arches, beautiful and strong.

Once the wide ring, a crown, you quickly realized, was about six inches tall, the groaning stopped and the room fell silent. Your hand was released from the iron throne and as you pulled back you saw a pale handprint etched into it, the loops and whorls of your fingerprints now permanently engrained in the metal.

You looked up at the crown, your crown, and admired the craftsmanship. A latticed base of interlocking wires that lazily drew outward and then tightened back towards the center with loops in wide semi-circles at the very top. It had no jewels, it was not made of gold or platinum, this was not a symbol of wealth, it was a symbol of power, and it was being offered to you.

You reached for it, not worried about the warm glow it was still emanating, it couldn't hurt you, it was yours. Your hand touched the metal and an audible sizzle echoed through the chamber as the iron instantly cooled. You lifted the crown, it was heavy but not burdensome, and as you drew it to you roses began to weave their way through the intricate lattice and bloom in the color of blood. Beautiful and throned they were a symbol of your power.

You held the now blossom filled crown in front of you when the voice returned.

"It is yours if you accept."

You stared down at the iron symbol in your hands. This was power, this was yours, it had been promised to you.

Slowly, you began to lift it to set it on your head, and as you did so a hazy figure became clear on the throne. You couldn't make out much, black clothing, pale skin, but the eyes were the same evergreen.

He grew more and more clear the closer your crown got to your head, just before it was rested on your head it looked as if he was staring at you from underwater, distorted but clear.

"WAIT!"

Thanks for reading, commenting, and voting!