As I clench the sweet smelling flowers in my hand, I stare into his perfect emerald eyes.
In this moment I remember why I love him so much. Every moment that I am with him, I feel warm, comfortable, free.
The sun smiles at me and the breeze sings a song that calms my racing heart, though I do not know why it is racing. I look down to see his emerald eyes, now staring up at me. I am captured by them, though then I am drawn to something else- his hands. Within them lay a velvet navy box....
The year was 1986 and she was a high school softball star. So young and full of potential. She was beautiful. She had a beauty that stopped time every time you looked at her. The world was hers for the taking. She loved a lot and loved with all her heart. She held it together for her babies. She tried for so long but the pain chipped away at her slowly everyday. How could she leave? She loved her children more than heartache killed her. What were her dreams? How different would her life be had she not gotten pregnant?...
When I see these flowers, and this man standing here (that's me, by the way), and I see all the men with guns walking behind me, I'm supposed to say that the flowers remind me of a lady. I'm supposed to taste the dust in my mouth, remember my comrades who gave their lives, understand the difference between pride and loyalty, duty and identity.
Mostly, I remember not knowing where I stood with any of these things; thinking that this was the process to figuring it out.
We're all figuring it out, aren't we? To know where you stand is...
The wall is the place most people choose on their own. You come for a day or a week and it's never to see the sights. The sights are immaterial, and not unexpected. Temples, tea houses with dripping peremera trees hanging soot and sleek flowers over damp pollenated tables. Once thriving book shops and market warrens closed down by the proper authorities. Cab drivers who direct you round about ways and never give useful directions. None of these things are unusual, or particularly memorable. It is instead, the wall itself, that calls to you. The wall is the reason you...
I've been taught to play it safe since I was a child. Everything always slipped out of my grasp. And I never seemed to mind. Then you managed to come into my life and make scars that, even decades later, will remind me of the love we had. Can you fathom how beautiful that is? I held onto you tightly because you were the only thing that mattered. Please don't say that my love was suffocating you. I couldn't imagine loving you any less. Maybe we were too young to understand what we had. Maybe I was too naive and...
I look at the glistening gold clock hung onto the station wall. Time is ticking. So slowly I feel that time has frozen. I glance around me, people struggling to pull their trolley due to their 10 suitcases on them. Families excited to go somewhere different. I wonder where all these people are going. Is it to the grand canyon? Is it to the Middle East? Who knows. I look up and see my travel guide. All I have taken with me. We don't need the 10 suitcases or the travel itineraries. We don't need the unneeded stress of expired...
They crouched to peer beneath the stairs, the grime and dirt on the old hardwood floor unsettling beneath their feet.
"Come on, Benji. Come out." Jorgia slipped her hand into her pocket, grasping a dog treat. She dropped it at her feet in a futile attempt to lure their "lost" puppy out from under the staircase.
Ashley began to pace the hall, scrutinising the mysterious markings etched into the dirty, peeling walls.
"Hurry, Jorgia," she breathed, "We should get out of here soon."
Jorgia inhaled deeply and swiftly slid her small frame underneath the stairs. Engulfed in an atmosphere of...
The wind swept through the area, sending a chill through the hearts of all those that were paying respects here, the weather reflected the emotions contained here, it was violent and broken, moaning around like hell was chasing on its heels. Despite the destructive nature, the gale seemed to gather behind me and encourage me towards a path I had walked often, towards the highest part of this graveyard. The thorns dug into my hand harder, a painful reminder of why I was here. The sun had started to retire, casting an eerie golden glow, hitting the headstones in such...
"Lorenzo, no!" King Tremain howled, his eyes blazing with the flames of anger and betrayal.
Lorenzo, a traitor to his superior acquaintance, wielded the gleaming sword, it's sharp edges threating to destroy the feeble man who lay before it.
Despite the cries of sheer terror that penetrated the air of the castle dining room, Lorenzo's mind failed to subvert its attention from anything but his original goal. 'Overthrow the king'.
He swiftly raised the shining blade above his head and in one final burst of adrenaline, Lorenzo brought it downwards, wholeheartedly piercing the King who lay helplessly
They lay like glass shards, scattered on the floor. Their unblinking eyes frozen pleading into nothingness. The atmosphere was as quiet as the darkest hour of midnight. It was still, as if nature even knew itself that there was no life here.
I took a step. Into this horror room.
My foot caught a flag, a great red flag with a swastika emblazoned on it.
This symbol was the representation of this cruelty
No life deserved to be here.