She stumped her cigarette to a tree she was leaning against. Watching out to the sea had become a tiresome task. She should never have taken it upon her. But the sea demanded that someone stood there, not forgetting the treacherous waters always in motion. Beyond it, the lands and people had disappeared. She often enough wondered what it would be like to be the last living human. Would it liberate her, or would she miss her cigarettes and wool clothes? But the ridiculous thoughts would be there still. The culmination of creation, but she found such notion rubish. Not that the thoughts were ridiculous, that she knew to be. Others might disagree, but she…she had seen how the mind creates unuseful patterns and destroys those around with them. There’s always creativity. They would argue. But what is it against the pain the same system brings?
She lit another cigarette. The night was only beginning. The darkness hadn’t yet swallowed her and the world with it. Not yet. That time would come. When the light becomes a flash, and someone other than her sees it to go. But now, she stood there holding the uncontrollable in control. They had sent her here—they who feared knowledge and had forgotten the old ways. She was told every night how her forefathers had rid humanity of false beliefs. She wondered what had to have happened for people to agree the globe didn’t spin and the fish weren’t older than her. Words she didn’t dare to utter out. She took a long drag and blew about smoke wishing a slow death would give her enough courage to fight against her shortcomings or accept a quick one was better than hiding the books and hard drives she had found under the floorboards.
She stumped the cigarette against the tree and pushed herself up. The stud she put inside her apron’s pocket where the others were. If her brothers found her smoking, being a guardian and having not to mary wouldn’t save her. But what man would glance at a woman’s apron? She lowered herself on the small pier and laid there watching the sky turn darker. Slow death, hidden books, and overlooking the treacherous sea wasn’t living. She was sure there had to be others like her. She just had to find a way to find them. There could be even someone else who knew how to read. Who loved the smell of books and the patterns letters made. She thanked the stars every night her older sister had been a rebel and taught her to love what shouldn’t be loved.
Thank you for reading, and have a beautiful day ❤
P.S. I’m coming home. I have been away for a week, visiting my parents and my lovely sister and her family. It is so good to go home and play with my cats and read and write. I have only managed to write few words, but I think I needed a break. Though, now as I write this on the train, I found words and the story eluding me. Hopefully, next week my mind will be back in writing mode, and I can continue writing my fourth book and sci-fi story.
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