Fairy lights twinkle, an endless, shifting pattern of stars against the black night, an empty voice crying out into the darkness.
He opens his eyes, amazed at the brilliant light reflecting from the windows.
An odd twinkle, as the gossamer pattern was repeated, out of sync.
A voice breaks the dark silence, his voice, a whisper, indecipherable.
He is surrounded, hidden by this dalliance with evanescent infinity.
Ensnared by the wonder of these fluttering, technicolour butterflies.
A palimpsest of replacement memories carved into shadows, into his past.
He remembers her, her aching joints, the onrush of morning sickness, of evening sickness.
The ritual of medicinal self-purification, the ablutions of forgetting.
The serendipity of Death’s final blow.
He wakes, to a world long extinguished.
He wakes to broken fingers of steel and shattered glass stretching out into the heavens, like supplicants protesting their innocence.
He wakes to a nightmare, to a fallen civilisation crushed by the weight of its own hubris.
He wakes to his memories, flooding into him even as he seeks to cast them aside.
He wakes alone, to an unexpected knock at the door.
Written for this week’s InMon prompts (Unexpected Knock, Replacement Memories & Odd Twinkle) and the Trifecta prompt (Wonder: a : rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one’s experience