Rage
Author's Note: Part of a larger novel. To be linked in the future. ___________________________________ He runs his hand through the sand. Just as he prepares to lift it up, to see the grains drift away, to see them carried to the future by the cold stellar winds, the sea comes and washes it away, dragging them back into time. He ponders for a while and then decides to feel happy. The winds keep blowing. The sands shift, the waves struggle. The night has arrived, it has taken a hundred years to do so, since he began to remember, and the day will not arrive for another thousand. The sky is lit from the embers of a gas giant, its surface a sea of fire, its pale light an ironic substitute for their dying star. A presence felt. He turns and sees his relative. She is coming up to him and beckoning. Return. It is nightfall. Come and celebrate. He sees her but she does not see him. Not truly. I am coming, he answers. She is satisfied and returns. But not for the first...