I haven’t posted in months, but its time to get back on the horse. I’m a little rusty, but here’s a thing:
The sarcophagus hulked in the centre of the room, its lidless eyes fixed in an impassive stare. The bare steel walls held dim reflections of the massive stone object.
Astrid stood in the doorway, tablet in hand. She could feel its eyes on here. The door slowly closed behind her, seals hissing. Immediately the independent air supply hummed to life and a cool draught brushed the back of her neck. Goosebumps rose on her arms.
Without looking away from the carved face, Astrid set the tablet on the ‘chest’ of the sarcophagus. Her fingers seemed to move on their own, exploring the rough surface. In her mind she could see the past living inside that stone, feel the endless procession of moments held inside every particle. It felt as though the walls bulged outward with the enormity of time pressing out from that serene face.
It all felt like too much. This damn coffin kept accreting layers, yet her own life seemed to slowly peel away. Everything she had worked so hard for, scrapped.
From her belt she drew a hammer, and raised it above her head. As she swung toward the immobile face she whispered, “Nothing lasts forever.”
Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction.
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