Doomsday would call upon them quicker than thought and a few moments before it, the Acrobat felt that the time had come to save his Tribe.  But it was too late, far too late.  His Tribe was large and, terrified and unwilling to trust the Acrobat who had given them no warnings at all, had already scattered in all corners of the Universe, in a panic, sending the message that the Acrobat, the Chosen One, was in fact, a cheat, an unpredictable, irresponsible monkey, a sick monkey, sick with vanity, smugness, greediness and arrogance.

There was much wailing, there was much horror.  Only one tiny little baby Monkey, in all his innocence and vulnerability, seemed willing to be saved by the Acrobat because in truth, he just happened to be there.  And as the Acrobat launched himself with his rope with tremendous agility and speed to grab the youngest of the Tribe and flee the disaster, there it came: a billionth of a second of silence, a flash of, would you believe it, blinding darkness where everything was gobbled up by the unknown and disappeared without a trace.  Was it the beginning?  Was it the End?  And of what?  It seemed nothing had ever existed before, not stars, not planets, nor creatures.  And when the light came back on, there were no monkeys left except for the Acrobat whose new name would now be ‘Syck Monkey’.  Even the youth he’d thought he’d managed to grab and save had gone, wiped out as he’d been that little too late.  Then, and only then, he realised the extent of his foolishness and stupidity.  In that instant, he turned into an old Monkey.  He would bear the weight of his destiny on his shoulders, he would be old forever and he would never die.

To be continued…


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