The Forge MICROFICTION
Spring 2019
OVER THE COSMIC GARDEN A boy looks to the stars for contemplation.
By: Ethan H. Reynolds
E
very morning as the gracious sun rises from the depths of the abyss and into the morning sky I cannot help but to dream of what is beyond the cosmos above.
In my village, where snow blankets the land for three of four seasons, my skal tells
of great titans and gods who dwell in the stars, looking down upon us in either joy or contempt. They are our masters, and we are the sheep to be shepherded for millennia to come. Sometimes I hear the stories of their great feats and cannot help but feel pity for these colossal beings. War rages in the great cosmos above, and adultery rife gods to die with grief or kill with anger. Maybe beyond that cosmic garden is a land of sweet fruit and beautiful flowers, easing the eyes from the deep reds of war and the midnight black smoke that fills our lungs as raiders burn nearby villages to ash. Maybe there is no hunger, no sorrow, no hatred. I would not love that world. With great sorrow comes a brighter tomorrow, with the beautiful sun welcoming the frigid land with warm sunshine. I desire no other place than here where I reside, though with time, evil can be left thirsty, but not rotting.
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