Watching the entire universe, sitting on his bum, a never-ending cigarette in hand that is always almost burnt out. His chin feels heavy on his wrists, his back starts to ache, and his knees can no longer support his elbow. At times, he laughs at his own decisions. At times, he cries like a wailing seal when he sees what he has done. He listens to all sorts of claims made by man and woman. They usually misunderstand him, but most of them call him Fate.
The earth completed a whole revolution around the sun, Fate took a large drag from his cigarette. "ONE YEAR, Blind." He exhaled the mighty breath of smoke, and it destroyed the straw clocks that stood solely on the power of will and expectations.
The wind has blown a million ways in a year, the waves have crashed a million times, rocks have turned to sand, fish have swam the world and back. Dana's baby went from sitting to walking, hairs have gone black to grey, happiness has crumbled , and sadness has been overshadowed.
In a revolution of the sun, the solar system has moved places. Fate has flicked his cigarette oh so many times. Caused so many wrecks and built so many castles. There are yet a few knights with bent swords and cloth armors ready to take on his might. He laughs as he drags from his cigarette- as if to mock every attempt.
I, too, stand with the rest. My sword in the shape of a winder's key. There lays my will and might, shaped like my goal and sucess - the drowning pheonix. I had promised in a year it'd burn alive again. Soar the skies proud and strong. But here it is, a year later, still drowning everytime a spark shines. Fate rests its face on his wrists, flicking ash on it and staring back in my eyes.