“He’s asking if we’re sure we want to go there,” Dan translated our taxi driver’s Italian for the benefit of the rest of us, who didn’t have an Italian-speaking bone in our body. This wasn’t a good sign. We had only been in Rome for a couple of hours for our ‘winter getaway’. We had had enough of assignments and lectures, and we seriously needed a small break.
Death wanted to play a game. He sought out a child lingering in sleep, reeking of innocence, brimming with life. He found a boy, curled up in a ball, dreaming of what could be. Death made a piece of paper, and on it he wrote a message. He folded it twice and kissed it. When the paper parted his lips, Death placed it in the child’s pocket.
A sharp intake of breath. I gamble a sideways glance at my bedside clock: five minutes to six. My heartbeat intensifies, so much that it drowns out the ticking of my clock. I clamp my eyes shut and will myself to enjoy the last four minutes of sleep.
Sean Fenech penned this outstanding entry that takes a closer look at the nature of a creator. The image used to illustrate this article is a high-definition photo from the Hubble Space Telescope of the Pillars of Creation, a formation of interstellar gas and dust located in the Eagle Nebula.
Insite’s Short story competition contestant Andrea Cini writes a mythical story about the start of everything.