The hole in his heart continued to expand. There was no remedy for the agony. There was no escape. He wanted desperately to accept his fate, but it seemed fate did not want to be accepted. He was still alive, suffering... Constantly being thrown into that desolate place of sorrow.. He hoped for all that was worth hoping for that his nightmare would expire, but nay, this was no mere nightmare. This was reality, and reality was that there could never be any hope. Hope no longer existed. Hope was a meaningless word, used only by the foolish, only by those who were no longer condemned to eternity in this... this bottomless chasm of despair, only by those who received the precious gift of death.
He lay there on the cold, gravel road, staring into the vast void; that eternal abyss where shadows reign supreme. The moon had left him, and the stars refused to shine for him. He was deeply troubled, and his mind was eventually subdued by the ever-growing thought that there was nothing left in the world.... But darkness.
He closed his eyes, and drifted off into that void, slowly losing his mind to the endless misery.. He died later that morning, accomplishing nothing with his life. He'd done nothing extraordinary. He was just an average man. No one special. Nothing to remember. His family never knew about his death. None of them ever cared. The only living being that knew of the fatality was a mere vulture. A single vulture. And this is where the story ends; an average man, dying without causality.
(Don't ask me if I'm okay or what-not, please. I literally just looked at a prompt, which was "Fatal flaw's thy downfall.", thought it was dark, and wrote something dark. To me, this is just a story. Or whatever you wish to interpret it as, I suppose.)
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