Dark Days

He walks during dark days. Upon glancing up, falls one feather. And then two. Six. Twenty. A hundred. These dark days are never ending. There is no sky as densely grey as the one above his head. Dead horses. Broken carriages. At the corner he turns. And there they are.

One day, the mad and the powerful meet. They both smile and share a laugh. A joyful, burdenless laugh. At exactly the same time, a man in exile is contemplating. What has he done wrong?

The woman in her sixties picks up a crying baby from inside a cardboard box. She smiles at him and gives him a gentle look. The baby stops crying. The woman then brings him home.

One card, a tap. The gate opens. She waits for the next arrival. Leaning on the dirty wall, she’s humming a folk song. Her home is not where she is going. Her home is too far away. Right now she’s just going to her shelter.

Some strange occurances have been taking place around the city of safety for the past few months. These occurances, some have reported, seem to be quite hostile. Three people were heavily affected by one incident that happened in an apartment where they live.

He keeps walking despite of what he’s seeing in front of him. A little boy, his body unmoving. He was pulled out of the rubble and is being carried by two men. An old woman in a distance is sobbing, her eyes deprived of light. All he can see is surrender. One photographer is taking pictures. She talks with a strong accent.

The strange occurances have stopped. Not because they want to, but because there is nothing left they can touch.

He looks up again. The falling feathers are gone. There is no sky as bright and soft as the one above him. The man in exile is now free. He left the world that has rejected him so many times. He left the world trying to fix itself, with the little help it has remaining. He left the world hanging.

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