The endless lights are flickering in my darkness. A door is standing before me. It’s a familiar door. I stare at it, feeling weary, tired, as my existence calls me back to myself.
I walk forward. Every step is heavy, which takes me away from my flower. Eventually, I reach the door. I open it.
My room exists, the room I created for myself from mortal imagination and loneliness. A thousand lights are dancing, swirling in the air around me. A thousand mad dreams, a thousand mad hopes.
I watch them for a moment. I let myself be entranced by them. All of them are streaking towards a door, another door. The final door, which awaits everyone. Perhaps even me.
I turn away from it. In the end, the God of Death is no different than anyone else. Afraid of that final door. Willing to emerge myself in a thousand trivial distractions rather than face the final mystery head on.
A thousand open books lay around my apartment. Pictures of the sky and the stairs have already been captured within them. Snap shot moments of experience, trapped in paper. You’d think I’d know better than to try to capture them. I, of all creatures, should know how transient they are. However, like many others, I want those moments to last. I’ll cheat, do anything I can to try to keep them.
A bunch of flowers await me in a vase. Including her. Persephone. She stands in the center, putting to shame all the other delicate blossoms with her beauty.
I walk towards her, wanting to admire her, to keep her for myself. However, she can only last in this realm for so long.
In the meantime, that realm requires its queen.