Denoument, Submission 11 by Lee Martin

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         The whole city was bathed in light; a soft yellow glow ebbed from the cracks of every stone, the corners of every street, the edge of every chin. Like the closing of a book the world had taken on an epic and final brilliance for one brief assertion of purpose that would never come home again.

         He walked over the ancient cobblestone roads that intersected with fresh asphalt streets. Piles of dead angels stood like cold monuments. Some had already begun turning to stone, their light all but washed away.

         Half heartedly he kicked over a gilded helmet that lay in the street.

         The air felt like one great exhale, like the feeling of relief and resolution from crashing through the surface after holding your breath at the bottom of the deep end of the pool in the summer that melted tires and ice cream when all you ever wanted came out of the icy eyes of that girl with the golden hair from down the street.

         He never expected it to end like this, but in a way, he was glad it did. He always liked surprise endings, and at least he hadn’t been bored.

         It was the little things he noticed. The way the wind had decided not to blow ever again. The way clouds received their final resting place in the sky, after circling the world like a dog looking for a soft spot to sleep. The way he didn’t see anyone he knew.

         Darker now. Every moment was darker than the last, but not as dark as the next. He could feel the cold beginning to flow our from the cracks now. He pulled his jacket tighter around his chest. His fists clenched, desperately holding on to the light that was determined to abandon, leave, finish.

         Light crawled slowly over the bars of the gate to the park and left in small wisps. It felt warm when he pushed it open. It also felt a little sad, like the way your throat closes and your eyes freeze as you look at your dying grandma and desperately try to say with a half smile that it will be alright. The gate said its goodbye with a quite clink of metal on metal, the warmth walking away as he walked through.

         That large tree that stood in the center of the park stood like a giant ember, the last of the warm places. He could almost hear the light as it dripped, slid, fell away on the many leaves. His back slid against the trunk and he felt the warmth spread through his chest as he sat. The cold succeeded the reign as he looked back toward the city.

         His fists slowly fell to his side as he sat at the foot of the giant tree. One by one his fingers chose acceptance. Every fingertip briefly glowed.

         It was fine.

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