The Chariot

Fire and ice roar through my veins. I am a god. I ride upon the chariot of death. On each fist, I wear a black gauntlet of doom, and my face is hidden beneath the mask of fury. Far below me, little creatures flee in fear. Once proud emerald towers fall before my power. A thousand tiny faces gaze up at me in horror. I am the End, the Destroyer, and I have come at last.
Then I hear the whistle. I step down off my chariot. I peel back the gauntlets of doom. I remove the mask of fury. No longer am I God, no longer am I the End or the Destroyer. I bite into my tuna sandwich and sip at my lemonade in the heat of the afternoon sun. Behind me the lawn mower idles, awaiting the end of my lunch.
— by Benjamin DeValve

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