The dust seemed to be picking up pace as the winds pushed forward, hopeful thoughts. Away from me, to wherever the broken barge seemed to be. The barge used to carry every disjointed thought to the afterlife where the ghosts of the past read them with a calm delight. Some filled with firm nostalgia. Some with regret. They would then grant some, ignore some and acknowledge some by sending down visions and butterfly emissaries. These wishes brought much pleasure to the ghosts. Some brought with them, suffocating pain and suffering. Some brought hopes for a beautiful twilight. The winds carried with them, blown away eyelashes with wishes written on the edges. It carried old letters, half-burnt Polaroids and coffee stains on wool cardigans.
As the years passed on, desperate hearts cried louder than before. Increasing in intensity and in numbers, wishes and dreams flooded the skies. It became too much for the barge to carry. The sadness was just too much. Crippling, and futile. It stopped gliding down the wispy cloud trails to the afterlife. The ghosts went cold, silent. Some forgot of their lives on earth. Some kept trying to remember. No wishes were granted thereafter. The ghosts gathered dusts. They stopped moving… stopped remembering. What was life? They asked each other. The world kept sending pleas. They all barely made it to the now broken barge, getting lost in uncooperative west winds. The ones who were strong enough made it to the broken barge. It was stranded on a lone distended cloud. Decaying thoughts piled high, dead ones scattered on the lesser clouds.
Now, the sun caresses the dying wishes in the day. The moon lulls them to an eternal slumber. The stars serenade them. A celestial funeral for the last wisps of helpless pleas flung heavenwards. Humanity on its knees.
So this was where dreams and wishes came to die…
Ghosts fell silent, gathering dust. Dreams breathed their last, lost in clouds. Humanity kept begging.
One-way call. One-way call. One-way call.
