Peter stepped over a pile of toys and discarded clothes, the detritus of a day in the life of his younger siblings. He sighed, a cloud of frustration forming with each step towards the kitchen. “It seems I'm always the one left to clean up their mess,” he grumbled to himself, the familiar script of annoyance playing out in his mind.
Fetching the dish soap and a sponge from under the sink, he prepared for yet another round of cleanup. The sight of the mess left on the floor — a jumble of crumbs and spilled juice — sparked a deeper irritation. “Will they ever learn?” he pondered, not for the first time, as he bent down to address the chaos.
Just then, his eyes caught the frantic scurry of ants, a battalion of tiny workers navigating the spill in a desperate bid for survival. “Here they are again,” Peter remarked, his voice laced with a mixture of rage and resignation. The ants, oblivious to the enormity of the world above them, had once again invaded his space, drawn by the careless leftovers of human life.
“As they come and go as they please, completely unaware that they invade our home, don't they?” Peter mused aloud, though no one was there to answer. His family was out, leaving him the sole guardian of order in a house that felt increasingly chaotic.
With a deep breath, he poured the soap-filled water over the spill, watching as the suds enveloped the crumbs and the ants alike. A twinge of something — was it guilt? — flickered in his chest. “And now you're all dead. And for what?” The question hung in the air, heavier than he anticipated.
As he swept away the remains, a grim smile touched his lips, tinged with an unexpected sorrow. It was a small, almost insignificant act — cleaning up after his siblings, eradicating the ants that had sought sustenance in their neglect. And yet, in that moment, Peter felt the weight of life and death on his hands, the delicate balance of existence disrupted by a simple act of cleaning.
Unbeknownst to him, among those he swept away were two lifelong friends, adventurers in their own right, known to you as Klicker and Skray. Their epic journey, marked by courage, friendship, and the struggle for survival, had come to an end not in the wilds of their own world, but in the mundane reality of a human kitchen.
Peter stood up, looking around the now clean floor, unaware of the stories he had just erased. To him, it was just another mess cleaned, another day in the life of the oldest sibling tasked with keeping order. But for Klicker and Skray, and the world they represented, it was the end of an era, their struggles and sacrifices washed away in the blink of an eye.
Rest in Peace, Klicker & Skray
Stefan:
Perspective can teach us so much. When do you take on a perspective completely outside of anything normal as of late?