Goodnight, Wilson
Goodnight, Wilson fiction stories
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lionprince
lionprince More on https://lionprince.home.blog/
Autoplay OFF   •   4 months ago
"Turns out there is a tomorrow after all. And for every tomorrow that comes your way, there she is with it". For more context, read 'Hi, Wilson' on my profile or blog. Enjoy!

Source: https://lionprince.home.b...

Goodnight, Wilson

By Lion Prince

Turns out there is a tomorrow, after all.

And for every tomorrow that comes your way,

there she is with it,

emerging from behind the tree you're leaning on.

Sometimes you wonder how you got here in the first place.

How you came to be this empty body with missing parts.

You consider searching through your stored memory

(yes, most of it still functions

(yes, most of it still functions although it's been a little damaged ever since you woke up from your blackout).

But you know you won't.

Or can't.

You're just too tired.

It's nice though, that you're capable of wishful thinking.

Ah, well.

At least there's a nice view, you think.

Now, you even have a friend.

That's what she calls you.

That's what she calls you. A friend.

And time

And time - it doesn't haunt you anymore.

Doesn't make you wish you could force your own shutdown,

when all it wants to do is to savour you,

slowly swallowing whatever life you have left in your backup power supply.

It doesn't haunt you anymore,

because time is no longer a ghost that possesses the sun and the moon.

Time is a person.

Time is her.

Because the day begins when she appears, saying "hi";

the day ends when she leaves, saying "goodnight",

like the way it has been since she first called you Wilson.

Today though, she sits much closer to you

and wraps your limp arm around her shoulder.

She shudders, and you realise that it must be getting cold.

Together, you watch the people below, like you always do.

She smiles, and you wonder if it's because she's thinking what you're thinking:

that from where you are,

all those people walking about look like ants -

and that from where they are,

so do both of you.

And when she says,

And when she says, "goodnight, Wilson",

you brace yourself for the end of the day.

But the day doesn't end,

because she doesn't leave.

Instead, she sleeps,

with her head on your shoulder,

her lips blue.

She doesn't shudder anymore.

You hear a distant rumbling

and screams

and cries

as stars explode like fireworks.

The big show has begun.

You hear her voice, echoing:

"Goodnight, Wilson."

You watch as everything fades into pitch black,

as the world closes in on itself,

and it's like the universe is answering her for you.

"Goodnight".

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