chaotic good

him

/ based on the picture above/

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There was her and there was an umbrella. She wasn't really sure if it was really her though. She felt nothing, heard nothing and saw nobody. The wind whistled through her black hair, softly reassuring her that everything was going to be alright. It wasn't going to be alright.

There was nothing there. She shakily took a breath and observed her surroundings, trying to recall what had left her stranded in such a gut wrenching place. As far as she could tell, she was standing on a slender mahogany desk. It would have made a fine office decoration, the shiny coated paint still intact after years of being mistreated and abandoned. The shattered tv cried tears of pixilated colours as the screen flashed desperately, blinded by the ashes. The dust, she thought, I'm standing in the ashes of what used to be. An overturned bundle of paperwork lay on the cold chair in front of her. She could have sworn that it was a newspaper but as she craned her neck to read the headline, the words danced across the page and vanished into the wind. The ink shrivelled away, seeping back into the page like some sort of playback of a 90s movie where everything was being rewinded. The clouds rolled backwards towards the horizon which was just slightly out of her line of sight. The signalled the end of an era.

Her black cardigan flicked calmly in the gentle breeze. It would have been a picturesque scene for she was quite a pretty girl but there was just something that wasn't right. Perhaps it was the sudden guilt that overwhelmed her. Her stomach was churning rapidly and her vision blurred as a single thought took over her head.

I'm the only one left

Whatever this was, it was the end of something. Maybe the human race, maybe something more frightening. Is there a God? She thought, her mind whirling as it strained to formulate theories of what had occurred. The world had ended, the universe had stopped expanding, time had come to a stand still, there was a war.

The umbrella.

It wasn't there before she came to... this. She studied the object in her hand with a morbid fascination. It was completely opaque and dark as sin. But it radiated a sort of light. It was almost as if it had an aura. She flipped it over in her palms, too scared to open it. Too scared that it was what she thought it was. It was surely him. Her the blood in her veins turned icy as she thought of him. It was a long long time ago when he did what he did. She had tried to erase that memory from her mind but some aspects of it stabbed her in the heart like a knife; an interrogation room, blue light, the horrible sound of whooshing wind and that umbrella.

She could never forget it because it wasn't something she wanted to forget. It was an omen, a symbol, a sign. She wasn't angry at him at what he did, she was angry at he did what he did. Now, that anger and torment ran through her entire body. Hot tears of frustration leaked out of her eyes as she thought of him.
He was the one who had sent her here. Yes, she was sure of it.

From a distance, she thought she heard the ringing sound of his voice, whispering, mockingly,

'Yes, it was me. It was me all along'

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photo credits: Engin_Akyurt from Pixabay