That Which Was
A stillness filled the room, imbuing all actions with an eerie calm such as had thitherto not been known in that place. Over the soundless workings of those who passed below, a clock marked out the minutes, the hours, the days that fled past blindly, making known the presence of the monstrosity Time, vacuous and cruel. This was what the world had been reduced to! This! For a single clear moment a hint of sadness crept across a human face; then it returned into oblivion, and perfect nothingness was restored.
In that room, it was said, worlds had played out their lives. Yes, in that same room, the room where not even dust now thrived, there had been ideas, forms with meaning, thoughts and truths and even lies, and within its encompassing walls had dwelt innumerable realities.
Not one reality now remained. How could it? Long had this end been foreseen, and in later aeons even actively expected, but all had failed to take account of its ultimate promise: one of Void and Void alone - emptiness untarnished. So, with thoughts and expectations, but with no realization of the implications of what would pass, all had rushed forth through flame and frost to a final rest that spoke of neither. This, then, would be all.
This, then, would be all!
Inconceivable it had seemed, and so it had come to pass. So all had achieved that which it had wrought and brought about what had been decided. Now there was only the room - a single room and a single clock and the bare field of thoughtlessness.