Short Story

A Lack Of Structure – Short Story

“You face yourself in the last of your chosen tasks Fellick,” he says with a stone stern glare.

“What exactly do you mean by, face myself?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he says with unflinching purposefulness.

“It sounds like total bullshit,” he says meekly slamming a fist onto the table.

“Then Striver has already won, and you are not ready,” he says closing his eyes and humming a tune that seems familiar, but the reason why escapes his memory.

“HEY!” Fellick says as he grabs him by the shoulder and squeezes tightly. “The very sands of time have chosen me. The choirs of infinity sing my name as it’s savior. You have no place to choose what is not yours to choose. I have completed every test before me, and now I sit before you ready to open the gates of oblivion on all who have sucked our worlds of life. Do what you are tasked to do and show me what I must kill.”

His eyes open slowly and he smiles, “I forgot how self-centered you were.”

Fellick releases his grip and takes a confused step backwards. “W-W-What the shit are you on about old man?”

“I’m on about what is was, and what was will be again,” he says as he rises to his feet and thrusts his hands outward as he doubles in size and reveals his true face. “Face your final challenge!” Striver snarls.

Fellick tightens his hands into fists and readies himself for battle. “So it will be you who is my final test, not my own self!”

He laughs loudly, “Striver is a name given to me by the wretched and weak. Call me by the name given to me by the bitch who bore me. Call me Fellick!”

His eyes widen as he stares into an aged pair of eyes that he instantly recognises as his own.

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