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Death of a myth I am a myth, hiding behind the shadows, afraid of light.

This is a new world- a hostile new world for myths. Old world is good. Myths like me were venerated and feared in the old world. Now the old world is lost- lost in the shadows- shackled to infinite darkness. I don’t like shadows. Shadows deprive me of light; shadows choke me. But there is nowhere to go for a myth like me. A few myths had the courage to wander into the new world. They never came back. Rumor is that the light of the new sun had blinded and killed them. After that incident nobody went away from the shadows. I dream of sunlight and the long lost days. Those are great days. We wandered freely among people in the cities and animals in the wilderness. Now we can lurk out only in night under cover of darkness, living a nocturnal life. I lost count of the days, since the world become hostile. Dark night fills my veins with black blood. I am thinking of wandering into the cities and wilderness in daylight once again. I collected every remaining drop of my fragile courage and went out of the shadows. It is dawn- the hour of sunrise. The glorious sun is rising, spreading its majestic rays on earth. I looked at the magnificent sun. A permanent darkness followed the immense luminescence of the sun. I know that now I am blind. I can feel my bones shattering; I can feel my skin disappearing. Then, I can feel nothing. Nothing remains. There is emptiness, just eternal emptiness. Now, I think I am dead.