There is a moon filled sun and a man.

There is a day that became a forever night and a man alone.

There is a city. Silent in the darkness of the moon darkened sun.

There is a man who walks alone. Always.

Once there was life.

It is gone. Void. Expired.

The moon came and stole the light. And all life was forgotten.

Except for the man. He walks alone. By himself. Always.

Not frightened. Not scared. Just alone. Like a memory that cannot die, he is trapped in the darkness.

No one asks him what he is doing in the darkened day of the city. There is no one there to ask.

He is not curious this man walking alone.

He has no thoughts to make his mind wonder.

Once, there had been curiosity. Wonder. A city filled with people building, creating, doing.

And then, the moon came and covered up the sun. Like a needle skipping over a vinyl record track, again and again, day became perpetual night, a twilight of darkness creeping ever further and further afield.

And all thought of the light vanished. All memory of day disappeared as his life became a forgotten song he no longer sings.

Once the man wondered what lay beyond the darkened light of day.

Once he thought about exploring beyond the city limits.

No more.

With the vanishing of the light, his thoughts grew still. Silent.

Now, he wanders the empty avenues and streets where no blade of grass creeps up between the pavement cracks. Where no tree pushes up through the concrete. Where no cars pass on the once busy road and no people walk on sidewalks once filled with passersby going about their day.

Day is gone. Night has come.

All that grew has died beneath the darkened sun. All that was living has turned to dust, disappeared behind doors closed against the darkness creeping ever further and further into the corridors and hallways of the buildings no longer lit by sun’s warm gaze. Now, only concrete towers remain, the asphalt, the silent avenues, the empty spaces once filled with bustling life are still.

And the man walks alone.

No thoughts interrupt his passage. No ideas form within his mind.

Like the moon erasing day, his mind has escaped to some other place, that other place from long ago, when he was once a doer, a builder, husband, father, brother, son. A person known to others.

And now, he walks alone. Unseen. Unheard. Unknown.

He does not remember that other time. He does not know what he has lost.

He walks alone. His path lit by the ghostly light of a sun no longer strong enough to shine light on the city upon which it once cast its golden hues. The city that once never slept.

He walks alone.

Forgotten. Never sleeping there is no need of awakening. He exists to walk the city alone. Sole witness of the moon’s daring take-over of the sun.

Sleep is a long forgotten pleasure. Awakening a forgotten dream.

He walks alone. Always.

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I have always enjoyed writing to prompts. It’s fun to see how others interpret the same prompt. How one image can stir different thoughts, feelings, emotions. This is the first story-prompt writing I’ve done in a long, long time. It feels like… coming home.

This prompt is from:  Myths of the Mirror. the prompt is Passover.  The photo is from:  natanvance on Pixabay