A warm winter night. How come the stars are yet so bright. All of us will be alright. In this warm winter night.
Standing up, He whispers those words.
There is no one in the room. Not right now at least. Last time He told the assistant that it would anger him if there was.
He was lonely now.
Walking up to the lone candle in the middle of the room, He gathers his breath. All this effort to blow the candle out, and no one to cheer him on.
He blows the candle out. Darkness engulfs the room as his eyes stay open. He stand there, in the middle of the room.
At least He may sleep again. Just three days ago He ordered himself not to sleep any longer.
"Lord, you have been awfully silent for the last 3 hours. Would you please tell me if you are still awake?"
"I am". The sound leaves his throat in a sigh. He wanted the candle to be the last big exhale for this day but it seems it was not fated.
It is never fated, it seems. Nothing seems fated anymore when everything is given to you. Father always told him he needed to find some work to do so he does not get bored. There are scholars just 2 towns over. You are smart enough, just talk with them.
He did. He tried to talk with them but it did not go so well. They admitted that He was smart but as He himself also noticed they where more knowledgeable. Spending time to become as knowledgeable was so much work. And the big problem is not even in that aspect of the potential action.
He knows He would succeed. If given enough time, He would become as knowledgeable. Not because He is some divine genius. Just because his intelect is high enough and memory was never a problem.
It would not be easy of course but that only makes it more boring when He has certainty of succes.
Anyhow, father is dead now. Since last week might I add. This was my latest challenge. Father never left the house and it is common practice these days to have his messages delivered through me. My challenge is to make it seem like father is alive for as long as possible while his corps is rotting in the basement.
Maybe at least the smell there was fated. Nobody will notice the smell of rot when there are dead organisms rotting everywhere in there anyway. Fathers habits still had some positive side effects it seems.
He decided to lie down. On the cold dark floor. The luxurious bed was also too boring. On the floor you have the problem of stiffness in the morning. It brings a tiny bit of flavor to the waking up part of every day and it makes waking up seem less hell-like.
As he thinks about how he could rhyme some more, his mind drifts off.
Sleep, sleep, my little angel. You deserve more rest than anyone ever did. The body is the vessel of the mind. Who was ever so, so kind.