A Wine Chalice Falls
All life gaps end, usually suddenly, yet add to the warm trickle of remembrance.
(This is the short sequel to https://link.medium.com/ofG73fGdJDb)
After a huge bang outside the Palace, one of Garnaaq’s guard droids hurtled through the hole in the wall, zigzagging through the trashed chamber and deeper into the destroyed building.
The sparks the small ovoid left in its wake descended lazily, dissipating their brilliance until landing on the torn carpentry and scattered books as sooty snowflakes.
Its signal grew fainter and fainter while it continued to broadcast breathlessly on wideband networking RF.
“It’s utmost kerfuffle out there! Fall back.”
“Well,” commented Garnaaq as Sorkaii stood up, “I believe we should make our way.”
Iaanda, reclining on the frayed sofa that was once of an exquisite shade of bone, grinned at the floating oblong and the man with his hands on his hips, silhouetted by the ruddy rays of the sun, sinking behind the burning hills.
“Pussies, all of you!” she smirked, nursing her glass of wine.
A closer thunderclap violently shook the ceiling, and down the hall, the remnants of a pink crystal chandelier detached from a column.
Giggling, Iaanda jumped as if propelled by an invisible spring and joined her departing companions.
Before her thrown chalice shattered on the floor, the room was empty, lonely and grim, as before.
The above texts were first published on Twitter and are © 2023 by David Pahor.
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