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(Yet another) Challenge of Inspiration 5
I came to a realization, after the 4th, that the first challenge of inspiration is inherently up to me. Apparently, 4's phrases weren't terribly inspiring, so that's on me. Hopefully this one will go better. Use the phrases below in a unique story or poem which begs a rejoinder of some kind from other Prosers. Responses need not be entered directly into the challenge--feel free to compose your response as a regular post, then put a link to it in the comments of the original piece so we can all find it. One winning original entry and one winning response entry will be blessed with a life-changing $5 prize! That's a whole pizza at Little Caesar's! (Or half a salad... somewhere... where people eat salads.) ______________Here are your challenge phrases: _______________ at your doorstep, Hate's last breath, carry on, alternate truth, the undertaker's dream, backward curiosity, nearing the End of Days, unnatural motives, I think of scales, forever in a ____________ Have fun! And no, "have fun" is not one of the phrases. Ugh... I know at least two of you are going to title your entry Have Fun just to mess with me. You know what? I don't care if you have fun or not--just do the damn challenge!

My Father told me

I stood over their broken form. Their tortured limbs pulsated with pain, struggling wet maggots covered in thick bloody goo. I had done that. Here, nearing the End of Days, I had killed them.

The sky burned, and all the water had boiled away. I walked, and I walked. It was true that the tallest mountains had been hidden deep down the oceans. Rotten trees fell, my skin broke, and my blood dried.

Love was long gone. Sculpted stone had turned to dust. I wasn't thirsty. I wasn't hungry. Sadness had died in the wee morning. Ideas and feelings had to go because there was nothing else to annihilate. I remembered that I used to sleep sometimes. I had to carry on because I wasn't finished erasing.

Let's go back.

I stood over their broken form. I witnessed Hate's last breath. I had done that. Compassion had been the first to explode in anguish. It was fitting to end with them, then. All the skulls had eroded. I opened wide and ate Space.

It crumbled on itself and tugged its corners inside me.

My Father told me He was done playing. My work was all but finished. He needed a clean slate; I had ended Life.

Time glared at me. Time was easy. I closed my eyes.

I forgot.