#writeas 2024

[afyerarchive]

Euthanasia of Our OCs

2024 WRITEMAS 07 - “Can we fix this?”

"Can we fix this?" you ask, watching drearily at the acres crashing inward as another bridge in this thicken collapses.

I ponder my senses, and shake my head. The weight of the world is in our hands, and we went and watched it combust into something unlike we used to know. Built on the very reason that they would live with us, our stories of childhood, our masks of who we are within, they pass their due dates.

The difference between the cracks of nothingness and the star-stricken sky is the encompassing grin the world befalls on you. In the lack of it, the world becomes a sorry eulogy of invention as the colonizers of fiction itself draw their last breaths in the quaking of the multiverse.

"So be it," I concede, turning my back and glancing your way. "We have to go now. There's bigger tasks at hand."

"Right," you say, staring into imperfection itself.

The founders of this colony are not dead, nor will they be in the long, long future. As if they could teleport, the willpower of the administrators of imagination is a strength no conditioning could come to break. Yet, we willingly cast aside the scripts.

Though it's the death of their day, the dialect they converse and dioramas they traverse, these youthful dreamscapes have an appeal unbeknownst to the status quo.

Oh, if only age itself weren't a world-ending weight.

(written for @agirlandherquill’s “writemas”)