The wind is all that remains

The wind is all that remains.

The wind is singing its endless songs of the days long gone and past joys and sorrows that will never be again.

The wind is the only thing left. They took from us everything else. They came from the endless void between the stars, changed by the voyage that lasted for millennia. What once was started as the noble enterprise of brave explorers turned into the wandering horde of half mad abominations.

Unfortunately, they were not mad enough to forget how to use wondrous and powerful weapons brought from the planets of their native stars. They burned, they crushed, and they destroyed our world. Still this was nothing new, we were familiar with this kind of warfare and we were even fighting back. For a while it even seemed that we were winning.

Yeeessss…yessss, we were winning…the wind whispers through the forest of frozen flames and brings the empty scent of the dust.

Then one day they did something that erased many pages from the very Book of Creation itself. They aimed their weapons to the basics of reality. No law of physics remained stable and unchanged.

Everything became strange and twisted. Chasms in the ground opened, through them we could gaze into the strange worlds. Days varied in length, from few minutes to months. Sun seemed to explode and fill the sky with golden fire, then shrunk back to tiny dot and remains of the Earth was covered with ice fields which crawled over frozen wastes under pull of gravity, ever changing the strength and direction. Doorways to other, unknown spaces were opened and closed, strange creatures emerged from them, some benevolent, some even madder than the First Ones.

By the way, First Ones disappeared completely after their final, terrible blow. Some even think that there never were any insane aliens and all this is our doing. I don’t know. Does it matter?

Nooooooo…it doessssssn’t…. wind howls through the living tubes miles long which crawl through the swamps of twisted matter, looking for tasty pockets of the tiny black holes.

I live through all these impossibilities, observing, wondering. For a days or years, I do not know. I have lost a sense of time and often, it seems, time ceases to exist at all or flows in some unimaginable direction. I think, I am changed, too, though I do not remember what or who I was before all this happened. This is good. I don’t want to remember.

There is only one thing of which I am sure – the sound of wind is still unchanged. It sighs and whistles just the same, just like the days when I…I don’t remember.

But I am very sure of this. The sound of wind is only thing which is the same as always. It carries the sounds, smells, particles of faraway places where, I like to imagine, mad gods didn’t play dice.

486 words