The First Day

On the 22nd day of the 23rd year of conflict, something perfect happened.

In unorchestrated symphony, the librarian lay down his pen; the soldier his sword; the heretic her wand. Peace fell, softly like the first leaf of Autumn; the first breath of a deep and long-held sigh. Peace, forgiveness. Love.

The soldier stood upon the cliffs and looked out across the land, golden and new once again. He lay his beloved sword upon the tall Spring grass, and leant back upon the wind. “Goodbye,” he sighed as he fell into the sea. “Goodbye, and thank you for my purpose.”

• This entry was posted on Monday, March 23rd, 2009 at 11:05 pm and is filed under 100 words. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.