Gone

It lurks in the corner, unnoticed, until one day, it's gone, and its absence is like a dense and dusty cloud that stifles the room. The shadow it once cast upon the lonely walls ceases to exist. It's servants' hands are now forever burdened with the mud of the earth, the impure, that which stinks and festers. No longer will it eat up the mire. No longer will it obediently take what it is given. The Hole to the other world, a labyrinth of the unseen and forgotten, has closed--or rather, moved. The wrinkles in its dark skin, the folds in the film that was the barrier between its Body and the Hole, are now only faded memories. Sighing, its servants reminisce about the days when their humble master waited patiently to be filled. It was a gracious master, truly, when it still was; the way in which it accepted what was considered worthless so willingly was proof of that. What was even more was that it had been an utmost reliable presence, as it had never vanished before. Consuming all it was offered, the bottomless Hole was filled often, but never for long. Soon there was a new skin, one that had miraculously sunk itself into the Body overnight. Alas, what a tragedy! What unjustness! Such is the sudden loss of a lonely ruler. Once mundane and forgotten, it is now defined by the fear of its nonexistence.