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INK STAINS
By Melissa L. Webb
She opened the worn leather book in front of her, its over-sized pages crackling with age. She sneezed as the movement stirred the dust around her. Turning to the last page, her eyes immediately drifted to the last bit of blank space left in the book. How quickly the time had passed. She had written the first prophecy before time had even started. Now here she was, pen poised to document the Last Prophecy. The one that would change everything.
She stared at her hands as she wrote, worn and wrinkled as the leather book. The prophecies were her burden to carry; and she had for so long. The words burning into her mind with such intensity they had to be bled onto the paper; either that or she would surely burn from within for containing such knowledge.
They weren’t hers to keep. She was just the messenger; forever a slave to the paper and ink. But no more. This was the last. They were letting her go, because there was nothing else to write. Laying the pen aside, she stared at the words, weariness building in her like a wave. Why was there only one left?
Leaning closer to the page, she blew, letting her old dry breath seal in the ink, forging it there forever. Her eyes drank in the words one last time, trying to release them from her mind. Two lives separated must now become one. The changing world must be undone. The light in the darkness needs protected at all cost. If it should fail, then all is lost.
She pushed the curiosity from her mind as she closed the old book, placing it on a shelf. It blended in with the other books around it. Now obsolete in this time of transition.
She walked slowly away, her old bones creaking as she went. The prophecy was no longer her burden. It now sat upon the shoulders of the oracles in the world below her. Let them worry and fret, making sense from the words her mind bore.
It didn’t matter what it meant. Only that it was the last. She could move on, no more words and ink stains. No more messages being forced into her mind. She was free.
© 2012 Melissa L. Webb
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Poor fate! Kinda worried about the “all is lost” part though.
Nice imagery. Makes me wonder of course, now that she’s free… free to do what?
I’m with Tim… a scary thought!!
There’s a great rhythm to your writing.. do you read it out loud when you write.. or are you just naturally poetic!!
Nice imagery and a sense of weight being lifted from her shoulders – where will she go now is the question in my mind?
Just a minor point and of course you may not agree with me.
The use of last in such close proximity of each other jarred me a bit ” Turning to the last page, her eyes immediately drifted to the last bit of blank space left in the book.” I wonder if you substituted last page for endmost page or finale page, would that read better?
I like how fearlessly this piece delegates the rest of the story to the reader. There’s more to ponder and thank yuh kindly.
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