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Sever the String
"One...Two...Three...Four...Five..." He breathed a lonely sigh as his fingers traced the stars that dotted the pitch-black sky. "Six...Seven..." His finger moved to each and every one as he counted, and his voice grew softer with every word spoken. "Eight...Nine..." His voice was but a whisper now. "Ten." He let his hand fall lifelessly to the earth, landing in the miniature forest of grass below. His eyes never left the sky, however, so he continued to lie limp and dead to the world as he watched the twinkling picture. "Ten...Ten...Ten..." He repeated to himself softly, "ten stars, ten fading lights, ten suns gone." He fidgeted about with the ground, and tangled his finger in a coil of grass. He pulled his finger free, and did it again. The ten shining stars formed a zigzag line in the sky, almost like closed black fangs with shining tips. "Will we be eaten up?" He asked himself, his melancholy had softened his voice to a weak whisper, scarcely audible to any ears but his own. "Will that jaw open? Or does it not plan to open? Are the heavens grinning down at us? Is some plan of theirs coming together?" Anger crept into words, and his whispers gradually increased in volume as he spoke. "Is there some destiny guiding us that we don't know about? Are we puppets, forever dangling by an invisible marionette string?" His voice had swelled with rage, and erupted into a roar. "Like hell I'm going to let that happen!" He pushed himself up off the ground, and staggered when he got onto his feet. He stood, silent with rage and resolve, his eyes still locked onto the gleaming grin in the sky. He held out two fingers, and moved them together, then apart as he ran them over his head, like scissors. "I'm severing the string." He returned the night's grin. "Try and stop me."
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