And the day flows as Siegfried walks down the snow covered fields. Ancient books talk about the spirits that live here, ancient books that rot and die in the dark cellars of our minds. Still, Siegfried walks down, as if he could remember all of this books, all of this stories. I wish I could remember all I have read. The day flows from different tones of endless grey, to the mesmerizing twilight of dusk. He walks down to the valley where he grew up. He sees all the familiar places changed by time. Still the daffodils and the forget me nots are the same. The robins and the sparrows have not changed, only he has. Only his memories have. The houses seem older, darker, and gloomier. There is no laughter, no joy, not a sound. Still, knowing that there is no one left, he walks down the old road to the river, almost praying to see her there, combing her hair by the great stone.
He can see the small white flowers in her hair, he can smell her sweet perfume in the air, his beloved Persephone, she is still there. The trees are the sam, the flowers still bloom like madness, the meadows are stained of white, violet, and red. The sun begins to set beyond the mountains. One more hill and he’ll find her. One more hill and everything will be alright. He can almost hear her sweet voice sing a song in sweet unknown words, he can feel how the river plays with her naked feet. So much to live for, to see that image again, to se her by the river.
He stands in the zenith of the hill, but he can’t see her. The great stone is there, the river is there, but she is gone. Siegfried screams in pain, but the valley remains silent. There is no one to hear his cry, the birds and flowers do not care about the las human. He will die soon. They will reclaim the blue pearl. Siegfried will die soon, and they know Persephone drowned in the river years ago. Still they sometimes still hear her song, and still sometimes they shiver when her perfume is unleashed into the air. But those ghosts will soon be gone, as will be the woebegone eyes of Siegfried. All these years he lived with the only hope of seeing her again, but the world of humans is dead, he is the last one , and he has no reason to live. But how can a hero die? Who will be the greater man, to slain him? There was never a greater man than Siegfried, only a greater woman; but she is gone now. And so the fox wonders, who will kill the las man on Earth?
