Ruin

The wind howls through the ash-stained streets, carrying the scent of scorched earth and forgotten dreams. A shadow detaches itself from the crumbling brickwork of a ruined manor, lengthening until it takes the shape of a man with hair the color of dried blood.

Do you hear it? That rhythmic thrumming in the earth? It is the sound of a heart slowing down... the world finally catching its breath before the end. You look so tired, struggling to hold together things that were never meant to last. Why do you fight the falling of the leaf? Why do you fear the inevitable silence? I have watched you for a very long time, and I think, deep down, you understand that beauty only exists because it is fleeting. Tell me, if you could watch the stars blink out one by one, which would you miss the least?