The Words of a Dying Flame

The rooster ran out of the coop, jumped onto the pole, and puffing its chest out, cried out to the twilight heavens with all its might. Then, it looked down at the sleeping village, looked up, and cried out again just as the group was leaving its gates towards the Ung’ Mountains, where the sun nearly woke. At the front was their leader, an elder dressed in an ornamental robe and a golden, sculptural staff in his right hand supporting him when his shorter right peg failed him. Trailing him were five pre-adolescent children, who were all too eager to see ‘it’. “How does he know of it?” one girl, Shua whispered to her friend Kip. “He said he had taken many people there,” Kip replied. “Did he always dress like that?” another girl, Nanda, asked Shua as they giggled. “Maybe he’s a priest? You know those of the…” “The Old Order,” the elder said, tapping his staff on the ground and turning to address them. “No, I am not one. I am, or was, just a traveler who happened across it.” ...

Ages ago in a forest not far from here lived two butterfly sisters. One was bigger and had brighter colours that used to be admired by her fellow insects while the younger, while just as beautiful was often ignored by all except her parents. Though she wanted others to also admire her like they did her sister, she was ignored and often despised for her pale comparison to her elder sibling. As such, she grew to hate her. The older one, with such love and admiration, didn’t take long to be self-conceited and vain, on top of being mean to her younger sibling. Often when she would see her trying to spread her wings in an attempt to impress others, she would laugh so hard that she attracted the attention of others, who would also join in mocking her. This happened so much that one insect asked, “Was her beauty hidden from her?” From that day on, she was referred to as the ‘Hidden beauty.’ Fed up of her constant comparison and degradation, she asked her sister to help her. “Deare...

The night air was chilly and the moon’s light paled in comparison to the bright orange street lights that illuminated the neighborhood. With no sound of dogs barking, crickets singing, I could have sworn I walked into an episode of the Twilight Zone. Everyone was tucked away in their beds, save for an elderly man seated on the sidewalk, puffing away his cigarette, seemingly in deep thought. For his age, who wouldn’t be? I went to him and asked why he was up so late at night, but he laughed at me and replied. “Boy, it’s quite safe around here.” “What makes you say that?” “I’m sure of it.” “How can you be?” “When was the last time you ever heard of a mugging or even a death in these parts? Hmm?” I thought about it for a while, then shrugged. He stared at me for a while and asked me to have a seat right next to him. So, I did. He continued puffing large quantities of smoke that rose in the yellow glow of the street lights and disappeared into the dark sky, looking ...

There was a time in history when man and his creator lived in harmony. Father, as they called the deity, would descend from the silver sphere in the sky he called home and spend time with his creation, teaching them how to farm and hunt, and occasionally entertain their children with games and stories. Every night, he ensured they were all in bed, after which he would go back to the sphere in the clouds. Eventually, some of the people began to wonder what was up there. Some thought he was going to another home much like theirs, yet others believed there was an expansive universe in there, while others thought he might have other children of his own. But they didn’t dare ask Father, lest they bite the hand that feeds them. However, there was a family that was determined to satisfy their curiosity, so one night, after he had tucked them all in and turned to go home, they woke up and peeked at the deity from afar. They watched him walk majestically down the valley, cross the r...