He Who Dared To Shave

A silly little piece I wrote after I accidentally clipped too much of my beard while trimming, and had to shave it all off. There's no context.

I drop my trimmer, hands trembling. What have I done? 
A cloud passes over the sun. In the shadows, I hide from my sin. A moment later, the light returns, and I am forced to observe my work. I must know, how bad is it? I tear my eyes from the hair-covered sink, and look into the mirror.
Staring back at me is a man. Terrified, beardless, eyes wide with the realization of the evil he has just committed.
What horrors have I unleashed upon this world? 
I shudder. There will be consequences. War, famine, disease. Untold thousands will die, nations will fall. 
I knew this day would come, the Prophecy spoke of it. But so soon? With so little warning? There were supposed to be signs! The Church was supposed to guard against this!
How powerless they were, in the end. I laugh humorlessly. For all their bearded bravado, they could no more stop fate than hair can a razor.
I can hear the sirens now. They are coming for me. The traitor. The smooth-faced. He Who Dared To Shave. They know that I am the one who will usher in the end of ages. The end of facial hair. They will try to stop me.

They will fail.
The wind howls. Those infamous words echo in my head, and I speak them-even as the bitter tears run down my hairless cheeks.
“I am become shaven, destroyer of beards.”
What have I done?

What have I done?

Author's Note

There's no context, just a lots of melodrama.
(is it bad that the captcha for this was "cringe?")

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

Heh-heh, yeah, I've done that. Later, as you go out into the world with your naked chin glowing, you'll hear some "entertaining" comments. Sometimes it's just a shocked look, but even that's enough to make you curse the invention of the razor.