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Tempus Fugit, Mors Venit (standard:horror, 2381 words)
Author: Anthony LundAdded: Apr 18 2006Views/Reads: 2632/1315Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A poetic take on Death inspired by the style of Edgar Allan Poe.

Tempus Fugit, Mors Venit 

Chapter 1 - Here And Now 

I walk along the cobbled street with dead leaves crackling under my hard
sole as the wind blows up storms of debris that try to blind my sight. 
There are others here around me, walking and talking in muted speech, 
lost in shadows that only I can see either in darkness or in light. 

I am the one they all fail to see. They pass by without a second glance.
Why would they look in my direction when they would not recognise me. 
For I am the man without a face. No beating heart, no pulse, no breath 
I am the man they all know and fear but they do not recognise me. 

The old town never changes here. The haunted alleys and dim-lit taverns,
always the same whenever I pass by, always full of the same skeletons 
in skin. I hear the sounds though a velvet veil, the sounds of life 
slowly ticking away, the sounds of life desperately trying to survive 
while it knows it cannot ever win 

From the windows of homes to the bums beneath bridges huddled around
fires, their eyes seek but they never find. If they could they still 
wouldn't recognise me. Only once in their lives do they look me 
straight in the eyes. Yet for all they do, and although they then see 
they always fail to recognise me 

I sit upon a wooden bench to rest my bones awhile in the dark sun,
watching ghostly faced children playing on a grassy knoll, their eyes 
sunken as I see them always. I see no colour only variations of black 
and I see no flesh upon their bones at all. I see only what will lie in 
a casket in the ground after each individuals end of days. 

For me there is no ending, only a road that flows on through your world.
It's true colour would likely be that of blood if you could only 
recognise me. Yet there could be a day, near or far, when the 
impossible task with be done. You will see me coming and make use of 
your time when you finally recognise me. 

Chapter 2 - Prelude To The Tale 

My bones they ache, but I do not feel, for life is not now mine to own
unless you believe that to exist forever is a blessing and not a curse. 
And the work I do would pain my heart if one did beat within my open 
chest and through my empty eyes I see that to have a soul would also be 

You may question how I came to be, what demon dreamt me into being, as I
myself have pondered in time as I eternally walk the Earth. The story I 
will tell you, one and all, for you to know the life I don't live. 
Though I do not tout for pity or hate, I just wish to bestow knowledge 
of worth. 

For now though I must leave a moment for my duty calls me, to which I am
bound. For only once have I had a choice to make and the consequences 
were clear to see. Please rest your ears for a short while turn away 
from where you think I am. Be glad it is not you I am being called to, 
be glad you do not recognise me. 

Chapter 3 - The Garden 

My story begins at the dawn of man, where the records are unclear at
best. When the tales of the Bible meet those that belong to the 
scientists who believe in evolution. Every religion has its questions 
and doubts whether we were created from fire or flesh. I will tell you 
now of what I know and you may within my tale find your solution. 

You see I was the first to walk the land without hair, and with the
power of speech. In the Garden of Eden my tender feet did tread and 
Adam was my given name. Now the story of creation is both true and 
false as from primate I did evolve into man, but the voice of God did 
instruct my hand and to my lover He did the same. 

Only two of us He did touch with His finger, his plan brilliant and
clear to see. That He wanted to create a new species of life to develop 
His world beyond grass and sky. He wanted this new breed called man to 

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