The Sleep of Death
A 50-word story on absence and presence
Published in
1 min readAug 7, 2020
Death was chained with unending weariness. He lay his scythe against a rock and lowered his chin to his chest.
The sands of time sifted through his hourglass. The last grain fell, leaving only silence.
Death’s presence continually bled into eternity; his absence allowed eternity to bleed across the earth.
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