He lay in the grass, cold, white, and with rain in his hair. The world went black.

The king stood in his sun-filled temple looking at his lands. He saw the farmers on the fields, saw the fertility in their crops. He saw the water in the mighty Nile float quietly past, unaware that it stilled the thirst of his people. He looked towards the pyramids and the sinking sun. What riches. The cobra on his forehead made sure eternity still floated past.
The pharao was dead. His tomb was dark and quiet. He was robbed of his treasures. He had rotted long ago. He was forgotten. Forgotten.

The priest in his church did the sign of the cross. He lifted his eyes and looked into the face of the merciful Mary above the altar. Her white face shone towards him. The priest stepped out of his church. The graveyard was dark, only enlightened by the moon, which the Holy Father had created. The stone graves stood in neat rows in the grass. "May Mary the Virgin bless the dead", the priest mumbled. He lifted his gaze to the sky. The stars were mirrored in his eyes.
The grave-digger disappeard out the gate. A new grave was added to the growing number. The priest's own. The thin wooden coffin was rotten even before it was lowered into the earth. The holy cross on the coffin lid had lost its shape. The gravestones had all fallen over. The names carved on them could not be read. The dead were forgotten...long ago. The church was just a ruin. The statue of God's mother Mary was crushed. Her face could not be recognized. She had let them down.

The High Priestess stood in her stone circle. It was wide and tall. She could hear the fairy people sing in the woods surrounding the great stones. This huge wood, that died every fall and was reborn every spring. She looked with pride upon the other priestesses that served their Lady so well. The Priestess painted the moon on the foreheads of her serving maidens. They stood there, all of them, bathed in moonlight, the light of the Goddess, and waited with dignity for the gift of the Gods; the third eye. The Lady had a sight. Her priestesses were many, and strong, and a bright future was ahead of them.
The circle was broken. The great stones had all fallen in the grass. The forest surrounding it was grey, leafless and dead. The Lady was old and tired. The moon on her forehead had faded. The fairies didn't sing to her anymore. All her priestesses were gone, they had forgotten their Lady. Her sight had not been real. The High Priestess fell to her knees in the middle of the stone circle and wept.

Where was I? Stars and planets, humans and animals, darkness and light wheeled past. I saw the pale yellow glow of Bellatrix, the female warrior, among the other stars in the sky. She fought, she fought bravely, but I saw her go out, and she left the sky darker.
I saw the bluebells grow from the forest floor. I saw them become brown and withering.
The humans crawled on the ground. Slowly, very slowly, they rose. They opened their eyes. The sun, the moon and the stars were reflected in heir eyes. They winked and stared in great wonder.
There was no one left. The humans lay dead, not even in their graves, but in the middle of the roads, the fields and the forests.
The lionesses lay half-eaten and rotting on the savannah.The birds had fallen from heaven and down to the ground. The skeletons of fish lay dry and warm in the destert sand.
The demons had risen, the angels had fallen.
All song had turned into screams, and all music had been quieted.
All force was weakness, all smiles stiff.
Mother Earth was bleeding, and the sun shone ever weaker. A sleeping sun.

When I woke up, the rain was pouring in my face. I looked up, at a sky where dark clouds had gathered. I never noticed the arm underneath my neck. I just stared up at the sun that shone ever weaker, to become a black oval in a deep blue sky.