Story Fragment: Nebelith's End
The old nebelith's breath drifted down like violet petals, and slowly spilled outward across the hard floor. It crept carefully through cracks and in crevices, through holes and under carpets. It poked in all the little places where secrets loved to hide. Here and there, it would find one, a little indiscretion, or a simple private moment. He always found those the most tasty.
But that was a long time ago, and the pickings were growing scarcer. All the people were gone from this place now. He couldn't see their absence, of course. He never could see them to begin with, just as they never saw him. They lived in a different realm than he, as it should be. But he could tell. The secrets were scarcer and harder to find, and none had the wonderful flavors he remembered. The air was different too: stagnant, and stale.
He caught his gaze reflected in a wine glass, and stepped through to another place. Another country, perhaps. He never could keep track of such things. But he recognized this place, too, and knew it would be the same. The world of men had changed, and not for the better. Where had they all gone? Perhaps nobody was left at all. And with no men, there would be no more secrets. Perhaps soon, there would be no nebeliths either.
He tried not to think of such things. There was no purpose in it, and a nebelith should have no time for things of no purpose. He walked through a doorway, out into the setting sun. Soon the world would grow darker, and he with it.
But with the new day come new things, he reminded himself. Perhaps, just perhaps, tomorrow would be different...
But that was a long time ago, and the pickings were growing scarcer. All the people were gone from this place now. He couldn't see their absence, of course. He never could see them to begin with, just as they never saw him. They lived in a different realm than he, as it should be. But he could tell. The secrets were scarcer and harder to find, and none had the wonderful flavors he remembered. The air was different too: stagnant, and stale.
He caught his gaze reflected in a wine glass, and stepped through to another place. Another country, perhaps. He never could keep track of such things. But he recognized this place, too, and knew it would be the same. The world of men had changed, and not for the better. Where had they all gone? Perhaps nobody was left at all. And with no men, there would be no more secrets. Perhaps soon, there would be no nebeliths either.
He tried not to think of such things. There was no purpose in it, and a nebelith should have no time for things of no purpose. He walked through a doorway, out into the setting sun. Soon the world would grow darker, and he with it.
But with the new day come new things, he reminded himself. Perhaps, just perhaps, tomorrow would be different...