A Winter Day’s Musing (Flash fiction)

Image by David Mark from Pixabay

Even a single glance out the window was enough to convince me to stay inside. The glare from the sun on the snow covered earth was blinding. It made the ice hanging on the trees shimmer and dance. Aside from the occasional gust of wind, nothing stirred in the barren winter landscape.

Adding another log to the fire, in an attempt to drive away the deathly chill I felt, I then headed towards the nearby shelves. Over the years my book collection had grown quite large and included the prophetic writings of many long dead authors - Poe, Shelly, Stoker, Lovecraft, King, and even Gaiman. As I lovingly run my fingers along the aged spines I couldn't help wondering how much of the truth they had seen. Had they gone beyond dreams and nightmares and glanced into the true void? Had they seen the past or even the future?

Maybe someday, when the stars align, I'll ask them myself. Unfortunately today was not a day for leisure. Instead I reached for one of my oldest treasures, the Voynich Manuscript. After placing a small cauldron above the fire, I opened the book and placed it on the table. As if by magic it turned itself to the page I needed, though this was simply because I had been using this recipe for countless years. Glancing at the ingredients I gathered what I needed and began mixing the potion. Soon the aromatic smell of the herbs began to fill the room and then an hour later it was done.

Ladling the mixture into a cup, I returned the book to the shelf and chose one of my favorites, The Eyes of the Dragon. Settling down under a blanket in the armchair closest to the fire, beverage in hand, I lovingly caressed the book cover. All these years later, it was still a mystery how King had come so close to the truth of what really happened. Minus the injury forcing me into a new body, there were many pleasant memories of my time in the kingdom.

Memories. There's little left in this world aside from memories, I can't remember the last time I encountered any survivors, and my supplies are starting to dwindle. It's probably time to find a new world to destroy, as without new souls even I will eventually wither and die.

After raising my mug in tribute to the dead world outside, I take a refreshing drink of my elixir and silently consider the future.

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Written in response to the January 1st, 2020 fiction prompt "book, blanket and beverage"