You're Shooting Stars From The Barrel of Your Eyes - It Drives Me Crazy, Just Drives Me Wild.
Nothing in the world looked like this - like living in limbo, letting legacies lay, left behind without a care in the world.
There's nothing like saying you're sorry for a story you should've never told to start with.
Now he has no stories left, having littered them like leaves on the forest floor, a perfume he could barely pick up on.
Soon, the stars would start screaming, falling out of the sky when the chaos started to crawl.
All of the neat order, perfect plans put into forward motion? Soon, they wouldn't matter. The tale was coming to a close, considering all the things they'd gone through.
All the things he'd put them through.
Now, at a great distance away, there was a manse, a sprawling life in stone and glass, one he'd made for himself, for the things that mattered most.
Nothing here mattered. Not really. Not the bleat of small fawns, not the cries of does and stags who could think of little save fucking one another in the broad daylight, under a sun that would rather scorch them.
Bylah had no use for such things. Bylah had no use for the little lives being put on display, like ants wedged between two pieces of glass.
He was through here; let the trees rot, the termites terrorizing all the soft insides that bark protected.
Let the rain and the erosion wipe it all away. He would leave, but never be gone. He would walk away, yet lurk in every blade of grass, every hoof that crushed it.
He had done enough here - had humored these little lives until their merit wore thin.
Now, it was time to do what he'd come here to do all along.
It was time to destroy it all, bit by bit, inch by inch, atom by atom.
It was time for Entropy to do it's job.
-fin-
