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English Chronicles 2025 26printed 47 · PDF 57
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printed 47 · PDF 57
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DAWN
“The darkest hour is just before the dawn.” The words echoed in my
mind like an ancient chant, their weight heavier than the silence that
surrounded me. I could feel the truth of it in the air, thick with the
uncertainty that clung to every breath. I stood there, the night
pressing in from every side, as though the darkness itself was a living
thing, hungry for what little hope remained. The world was still, too
still, and I could hear nothing but the beating of my heart, a hollow
rhythm against the void.
At first, the words felt like a cruel joke, something spoken to comfort
those who weren’t truly lost, who hadn’t wandered into the endless
blackness I now found myself in. How could there be light when the
night seemed eternal? How could there be hope when the shadows
were suffocating, crawling over the ground like hungry creatures?
The very idea of dawn felt distant, something out of reach,
impossible.
But then, in the midst of that oppressive silence, I began to notice
something. A flicker. At first, it was barely noticeable, a subtle shift
in the dark, the faintest touch of light on the horizon. I stood frozen,
unsure of whether my mind had simply created it, desperate for
something to grasp onto. But as the seconds passed, the glow grew
stronger, not in a sudden burst, but slowly, almost reluctantly, as if
the world itself was waking from a long slumber. The darkness, I
realized, wasn’t endless. It was just the waiting, the stillness before
something inevitable.
AC Chronicles
47