The Sentinel
195 Words
The SentinelOn a secluded clearing near Washington Rock he waits. Each day he scans the horizon, looking for signs.
This day he is more troubled than usual. His dogs sense it. When he closes his eyes and turns from his machine, they know what is to come. And they mourn with high pitched whines. He cannot continue. The past has seized him, and the tears soon flow. For agonizing minutes he is wracked by sobs, but as quickly as they come they pass.
He turns back to his machine - resolute, as if to say there is no more time for sorrow. He has but one charge in life: to be ready.
As evening falls, he bows his head, then lights a fire and takes his book. He whispers words that the dogs know are not for them, words they've heard before but invite no response: "Therefore, keep awake - for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake."
- Writer
