Six Sentence Sunday - The Prophet and the Crown I: The Fallen (WIP)

          “I don’t understand!” the man cried out loud, his voice thick with agony.  But the voice had gone silent.  He was truly alone now, the solitude a gaping chasm that wanted to swallow him in madness.  Alone.  Alone.
          It was the loneliness; more than the dragging heaviness of this unfamiliar body, more than the lack of a past, more than even his missing name; that devastated him.