Ficly

Weeks

And it’s just four weeks
Till I hear the good Lord speak
Doctor says it won’t be long
Till I’m dead and gone…

He couldn’t remember anything but the refrain, but he sang anyway. His small voice sounded thunderous as it echoed inside the cavernous hollow. He was enjoying himself somewhat, creating one last living masterpiece before his servos finally gave up the ghost. Already he could feel the creep of ice inside, making his jaw stiff.
White light turned blue as it filtered in through the thick ceiling of ice, and the sweeping arches of some natural formation lay untouched, in defiance of the messy collapse that claimed Barry.
He it had been an unnaturally long life, so he figured that chances were in his favor that it had also been a good one. He wasn’t sure at this point how much of his body was still functioning, but didn’t much bother with any of it. Instead he settled in to try and write his own words, imagining a camera panning out to view the whole cave, leaving him as he fumbled with awkward rhymes.

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