When I Was Alive
I sit on this moss covered broken throne looking at the empty hall. The roof above has collapsed in some areas and thus littered the ground with stone and dust. Rays of moonlight pierce through the openings above and light the otherwise dark hallway.
When was the last time a living thing walked down this hallway? I'm not sure how long ago it was but I recall a wounded hare falling down one of the openings before. The poor thing was being hunted down by predators above. The carnivorous things knew not to jump down into the old hallway.
The hare became frozen with fear and couldn't move from where it had fallen to. Whatever was left of my heart felt moved and I wished to help the animal back up the opening. In my movement, my bones creaked as they ground against each other. The dust that covered me fell off with each clumsy step I took.
Once I reached the wounded creature I took it into my hands. But before I could help it up, the hare's heart had stopped. I stood there where the light shined directly on me holding the dead corpse in my hands. Did it die from its wounds or had my presence killed it? Was my actions wrong?
I stood there rooted by my thoughts haunted by the many possibilities in which the small creature could have lived. Once I had returned from within my mind the furry creature had turned to bones. I dropped them and with a wave of my hand they came together.
I walked back to my throne and the undead hare followed me back. Squatting, I reached for a tile next to my throne and turned it over. I reached towards the dirt underneath and clawed at it until I had made a deep enough depression. I had long lost the need order my undead, so the undead hare rolled in and laid down.
The empty eye sockets stared up at me and I read down to tap the creature right inbetween them. The skeleton disassembled at my touch. I pushed the excavated dirt over the pile of white bones. I patted the mound inorder to smooth out the surface and placed the tile over it.
I come back from my memory of that hare. Back to the same hallway. That was the last time I saw a living animal. What about a living person? My head tilts downward at the memory of the last traveler to walk down that hallway. He turned to ash at the sound of my voice becoming more of the dust that covers this place.
I had forgotten what it was like to speak so I placed too much power in my excitement of speaking with a traveler. My chin hits my chest in disappointment of my actions. I didn't even know what to say to the traveler. Introductions are a must I suppose. 'Hello traveler...' no. 'Welcome traveler...' no...
Ah one must first introduce themselves. What was it again? I raise my hand to feel my skull. My fingers move along every grove and indent trying to recall its history. No luck there so I instead bring my hand I front of my face so that I can observe it.
This hand of mine is weathered and beaten. Several of the tips of my fingers are either missing or broken into jagged edges. The bones that are left are crossed with cracks. I can gather that this hand of mine is quite old to have deteriorated this far.
I wonder how much more time does this hand of mine have until it too turns into dust. I feel the age of my body giving way. I suspect it will only accelerate. I wonder if my mind will last without a body. No, probably not.
For now I will try to remember when I had skin. The back of my skull tingles but nothing comes forth. Any memories of my time outside this hall have faded away into its own form of dust.
I have forgotten my life When I Was Alive.