There was a dark room lit only by a monitor sitting on a desk made of white synthetic wood. The desk had a rainbow-colored keyboard on it, a matte black mouse sitting on top of a dark-blue mouse pad and a figurine of a man wearing rusty armor holding a broken sword. A stark contrast could be seen between the setup and the desk itself; it had an aesthetic and clean look. On the wall behind the desk hung 2 posters, 1 of them showing the same man from the figurine, in what seemed like the same pose. The other poster showed the broken sword the man was holding in more detail. The sword didn't look fit for combat at all, it would normally not be too appealing if not for how it was framed. It was framed as a holy artifact, one of much value. The sword wasn't actually real, it was just a symbolic piece that had much meaning for humanity, or at least it had before. Nowadays people worship a different sword, one made of pure light.
On the other side of the room hung three square art pieces, all the same size. The one on the left looked like a loosely blended watercolor painting, portraying the vague shape of a green / pinkish woman in some kind of motion. The art piece got less accurate farther away from the face of the woman, until it blended in with the beige background. The piece in the middle portrayed a dystopian light pink cartoon-like skeletal figure identifiable by its Mickey Mouse-looking skull and gloves. The piece on the right seemed to be a black-and-white photograph depicting a group of black men celebrating on top of a white old man with his eyes crossed out. The background showed the now gone white house. Under these three pieces laid a bed with a gray backboard and a matching gray blanket, and right next to the bed was a nightstand where a wooden record player with a glass top piece rested. In the box was a bright pink vinyl record with the same image of the skeleton printed on the middle of the record.
On the bed itself laid a man, lightskinned with wavy black hair. He was laying in the darkness, motionless and seemingly sleeping with his eyes open. Until the room suddenly lit up in a bright white light, coming from the man's hand. The light slowly dimmed and a red handkerchief replaced it.The man put the handkerchief to his face and inhaled slowly, while closing his eyes.
After a few seconds the man dismissed the handkerchief and stood up calmly from the bed. He walked out of the room and down a flight of stairs, and the sound of a news channel became clearer as he walked through a hallway. He then entered a spacious room, lit only by a TV showing a news channel of sorts. The man turned on a light with a switch.The space was lit by a soft light and the quiet TV, revealing an open kitchen with a mini bar between it and the living room. On the mini bar sat a bowl of fruits and an unsolved rubix cube. The floor was littered with unwashed clothes.
The man opened a fridge revealing it was quite empty. He grabbed a red jar of synthetic jam, and a loaf of bread. He fished out a piece of bread, placed it on the counter and opened the jar of jam. His hands shone with the same light once again, only this time a dagger was revealed. The man dipped the sturdy dagger into the jar and stared at the now red dagger. He sighed deeply before a voice from behind him spoke softly "Making some food? Doesn't really seem like the time for it" the man responded calmly "I'm not really hungry anyways.".
With that the man walked away from the mini bar and sat on a couch facing the TV. There was a black woman on the TV holding a speech in what looked like the dream realm. Of course it was only a set made to replicate the atmosphere. He stared at the screen as a woman spoke confidently.
"I often think about the fight of the woman, told by the world she can't think like others can, eat and drink where others can, shackled by her feet and hands."
The man continued to watch, drawn to her speech.
"No citadel, no co-hort, what it means to be a woman."
The man then lost interest and sighed once more, this time a lot deeper. He then gripped the dagger in his hand very tightly, and put it to his neck. He was going to kill himself. The man was quite disappointed really, he wasn't crying or feeling any sadness at what would be his last moment. It actually disgusted him. He tried to filter out the sound of the TV to the background but he failed.
"Another being half goddess half human, the healer, the holy, the sacred woman. The one who will bear responsibility to be the mother and queen of humankind."
A frustrated expression appeared on the man's face, he gripped his dagger tightly. The sounds were impossible to ignore, his clicked his tongue and changed the channel
"Even though most didn't survive the crash, a mother and her child did make it out and were spotted walking away from the devastating scene."
Another change.
"I like that question allot actually, I'd have to say my mother was the biggest inspiration in my life, I mean I honestly couldn't live withou-"
The man hurled the remote at the TV, shattering the screen. It lodged there, stuck awkwardly in the center.
"Damn it".
He looked back at his dagger, his hands trembling this time, his expression changed, not from pain but from the realization that his face was wet, his numbness was gone. Tears welled in his eyes, flowing down his face.
"Why now?" He whispered " why can't I just suffer later for spells sake."
He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself out of frustration.
Or if he hoped someone would hear him, and stop him- no, save him.
Maybe he didn't want that.
Tear after tear fell down, and he stared at the cold red painted dagger.
It allowed for a thought to seep into his mind.
"Do I really want to die?"
In turn, he heard the voice from behind him again.
"Pathetic" It hissed.
And then, in a blur of emotion, he grabbed the knife and drove it forward.