Whimword – Gloaming

So last week I made my first foray into the world of Whimword. I consequently “won.” Obviously there was the temptation to bow out and live out my days with a perfect record, undefeated upon the field of battle. But you see, the thing with Whimword is that when you “win” you have to pick the next word. And having done so, I thought skipping out on putting together an entry for aforementioned word would be (to use the technical term) a dick move.

The word I chose was “Gloaming.” Which is should a wonderful word to say. So thick and heavy and round in its tones; a much better word for twilight or dusk. this one is a bit shorter than the last, and veers a bit closer to the dangerous and turbulent waters of poetry.

Here we are at the End

I remember when the sky fell.

I remember when everything we had strived to build came tumbling down from heaven.

And all we were left with was a kingdom of ash; an empire of smoke; a sovereignty of dust.

I remember the last sunset, oh what a sunset it was.

Lightning trails of silver streaking through the sky, burning holes in the clouds. Spiralling shards metal the size of city blocks flashing in the evening sun as they spun. All against a backdrop of light refracted through meshes of nanofilaments and sub-micron particulates.

The sky, oh how she seethed; a canvas upon which was wrought art in coloured shades of ruin.

She shone.

She glowed.

She burnt.

Then came the darkness, the riot of fire and light snuffed out in an instant, plunging the world into a night which would never end. We were thrust into a Stygian void; a benighted pit.

And with it came the fear, and the cold, and the doubt, and the despair, and the haunting melody of death, and the fizzling out of hope. Even now, decades on, it has never been darker than it was in that moment. We may have clung to life in the ice and the cold, but that was when we truly died: when the light went out.

Oh what I’d give to see another sunset, or to feel the kiss of its rays upon my skin.

In the years since we have learnt all too well, that real wealth is not measured by what you have, but by what you can lose

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About The Rogue Verbumancer

A chemistry graduate consumed by the demons of apathy and disinterest. Likes tea and cheese. Sleeps less than he should. View all posts by The Rogue Verbumancer

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