A madman at the end of world

I am reeling from two consecutive earth quakes, a first day of summer with the highest temperature in living memory and some healthy dose of real life. Lost track of what to do again. Stupid human life. All I can think about is Doom and Destruction. Here’s what today’s prompt brought out… 

He sits on a rock with an open notebook in front of him in the ruins of the world. He watches people on the road on their eternal exodus.

“What goes around comes around; Ferdinand circumnavigated the earth,” he shouts.

At night Vasimir engines light up the horizon; rising on pillars of bright smoke to the vault of heavenly bodies. He listens to the rumble, smells the propellants and in his sleep dream of alien skies.

kent-b
PHOTO PROMPT © Kent Bonham

“This is the tomb of Ozymandias.”

“It’s just some doodles.”

“The children will return.”

“Why?”

“Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair, huh.”

 

 

 

Friday Fictioneers is a Flash fiction community curated by the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff. Add your work here…

http://www.inlinkz.com/new/view.php?id=623923

Find many more amazing works here…

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

 

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14 thoughts on “A madman at the end of world

  1. Dear Tamal,
    I’m so sorry about the earthquakes – must be terrifying!
    Are you new to FF? I LOVED this story, and haven’t seen you before. Beautiful writing.
    And thanks for visiting my blog and commenting.
    (As for the Ozymandias reference, I love it, and oddly, made my own reference to it for an FF prompt from a couple of years ago – isn’t that a great, great poem?)

    Liked by 1 person

    • And Ozymandias is an amazing poem. That post apocalyptic nihilistic feeling is something I’m getting from everything now a days (sorry for 2 parter reply, using cellphone to nevigate wordpress is something I’m not used to.) Glad that you liked my writing.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Yes, it is one of my favorites, as well.
        The sobering thought that not just humans, not just their history, but even the art commemorating them, eventually crumbles to dust, and no one remains to admire or acknowledge their existence.
        Shelley was a true master.
        (Oddly enough, in my story, I implied through my title (Ars Longa, Vita Brevis) that life is brief, but art is longer, which can be refuted by Shelley’s Ozymandias! Hmmm …)

        Liked by 1 person

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