Vicente Vasquez
Bio
I'm a humble traveler through time and space.
Stories (7)
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The Funeral
The old man was superbly dressed. Fit for his age and with eyes as piercingly blue as the day he'd been born, he wore a well cut black suit, with a black shirt and tie to match. While in his youth his hair was just as dark as his garments, now it was a tired faded gray, as was his close cropped beard. He stood at the back of the church with an unreadable face and thanked people for coming as they left the funeral service. When his wife's friends and family had all gone he thanked the preacher for kind words and for the comfort he had provided the old man's wife throughout her last days in the hospital. With that done he took the urn that contained his wife's ashes and left.
By Vicente Vasquez5 years ago in Fiction
Memory
The tragedy of the end of the world isn't that the world ended. It isn't that humanity died out in the billions, or that once great civilizations full of potential collapsed to nothing. It isn't that we were so close to colonizing space and ensuring our immortality before we fizzled. The tragedy of the end of the world isn't even that some of us survived, though that's starting to get closer to the truth. No, the tragedy of the end of the world is memory.
By Vicente Vasquez5 years ago in Fiction
