Aeon

A short narration by a refugee from the Fall of Lethoria

“Always?”

We rode towards the sunset as the soundtrack of our lives played. Far beyond the horizon, the sky slowly began to compose itself back to its picturesque state; a surreal mixture of auburn and copper with a backdrop similar to that of a fresh canvas. The smell of the ocean brushed our hidden smiles and hinted a promise of adventure and serenity that people can only hope to find in their idea of heaven. Hearing the sound of the wind blow past us and backed with the melody only waves can create, the euphony it composed added an immeasurable sensation to the reality we called our lives. With our fingers entwined, we continued down the road --  suspended in our personnal form of eternity.

"Always."

Author's Note

What's going on guys?! Here's another short excerpt from the eyes of young man who is fleeing the City of Lethoria before its inevitable destruction.