A Collection
Picture 1 - LOSS
She stared out into the pregnant silence. The storm raging outside was the only sound to be heard. The pound of the rain and the rumble of the thunder were comforting to her. But it still didn’t change things. It still didn’t erase time, making past events undo themselves.
“I am alone,” she whispered, breaking the quiet. “I am utterly alone.”
She crumpled to her knees and finally let the tears come.
Picture 2 - DEATH
Strangely it wasn’t raining. It was always supposed to rain when someone died who didn’t want to. And, she was sure, he didn’t want to. He wasn’t that far gone. It just seemed to her that he had too much to live for. A wife. A child with another on the way.
Strangely she never thought she’d see a day like this. She wasn’t supposed to see many years. It felt like walking through a dream as she approached the heavy coffin. It was too much of a shock to stand once more by the side of her dead friend. It wasn’t like it was a few years ago.
She laid the dying rose into the already cold hand and bent to whisper in his deaf ear, “It should have been me.”
Picture 3 - THE SPACE BETWEEN DREAM AND REALITY
She was laughing. Laughing – she couldn’t believe it. And it wasn’t just laughing. She was smiling, too. Inside the pit of her stomach, she felt a distant, almost unreal fear that something bad was going to happen. But nothing, she thought, could ruin this wonderful day. The sun was shining in the cloudless blue sky; the temperature was comfortable to the point of saying perfect.
Vaguely she was aware that someone was holding her hand, pulling her along. It was then she realized that her laughter wasn’t the only sound ringing in her ears. It was his. It flew through her mind, caressing her senses like the softest velvet.
He began to fall, pulling her onto the soft, green grass with him. He wrapped his arms around her small form and held her close. She felt the purr of his laugh against her cheek. She wasn’t sure how a demon such as herself had gotten into Heaven, but she wasn’t going to argue the fact.
Picture 4 - ABANDONED
Raining. It was raining. Could things get any worse?
Thunder cracked above her, and she jumped. People were rushing home all around her to be with their families.
Family. She thought she had one of those. But she was wrong – just like all those other times.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, but no one saw. They faded perfectly with the rain.
Picture 5 - DROWNING
She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were screaming for air, but she couldn’t satisfy them. Her ears began to hum and blackness skirted on the edges of her vision. She could feel her heart pound relentlessly against her rib cage and the blood rush through her veins as her throat began to close up. Her mouth became cotton dry as fine beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
“Notice me,” she gasped out.
A beat and smile later, as soon as he had passed, her throat opened, and the valued oxygen invaded her deprived body in the form of a sigh.
Picture 6 - GIVE UP
It was useless. 100% useless. No matter how hard she tired, she couldn’t do it. She felt like an idiot, and him standing there only made her feel more pathetic.
“Giving up doesn’t always mean you’re weak. Sometimes it means you’re strong enough to let go,” she whispered, figuring he’d be like everyone else and not hear.
“Then I’m not strong enough to give up on you,” he said boldly, surprising her. She looked at him, mouth agape, as he smiled. “Come on; you almost had it last time. Let’s try again.”
Picture 7 - LISTENING TO THE RAIN
It amazed her every time. From a sprinkle to a downpour. It was beautiful, and every time it rained, a brand new melody would be performed. She fancied it was just for her, and everyone else was deaf to the beautiful music.
Her favorite times for rain were just before she drifted into slumber and right as she would awaken. Rain was innocent, clean –pure – and when she listened, she felt that way too.
The only thing that could possibly enhance the moment anymore was the strong, warm embrace of her lover and the sound of his laughter adding another movement to her private symphony.
Picture 8 - SOLITAIRE
Happy was not a word that came to mind when she thought of her childhood. From the day she was born, there was only one side she was on – hers.
That’s why she was so surprised when he asked. That’s why she had suddenly become mute.
Dumbly, she nodded her head. He loved the unlovable, but she was happy that he did. She knew he deserved better, but her heart beat in her chest every time he’d look at her.
Fifty years later, the look hadn’t changed. He still looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. And to him, she was.
She stared at the lone solitaire on the simple gold band on her finger. She wore no other rings but that one. Maybe being alone wasn’t so bad if you were alone with someone that you loved.
Picture 9 - MISSING
She was better off without him. Happier. Freer. Free to laugh. Free to cry. Free to just be.
Contrary to what everyone told her, she wasn’t going to miss him at all.
Picture 10 - SAY A PRAYER
Dear God, please…
Blood. There was so much blood.
I’m sorry for everything…
Some of it was beginning to dry, making things sticky. The metallic sent hung nauseatingly in the air, making it thick and hard to breathe.
Just let me overcome this…
Night was swiftly falling. A blessing and a curse. With the darkness descended a bitter cold.
I’ll give it all away…
Blackness didn’t come quickly enough. When she saw him, she purged her stomach, wishing she could do the same for her tortured mind, knowing the image of him would never leave it.
Just let him be alright…
He smiled weakly.
Oh, dear God…
His eyes were quickly becoming dull.
No, God, no! I…
His breath was labored.
I can’t. Not him too. Please…
His eyes began to close. She fell to her knees in a puddle of his blood and gently wrapped her arms around him.
I love him, God….
Picture 11 - DEEP BREATHS
She was going to be ok. There was nothing to be scared of. It wasn’t that bad. She could do this.
Yeah, right.
Deep breath in. Hold. And out.
One foot in front of the other.
Step. Step. Step. Step.
Almost there.
Deep breath in. Hold. And out.
Relax. Rebalance the center. And breathe.
The bridge wasn’t that long, but it seemed to go on forever as she crossed it. But, she reminded herself, she was only taking baby steps.
Halfway wasn’t so bad. And she could hear him on the other side, cheering her along.
Deep breath in. Hold. And out.
Almost there.
Picture 12 - WHAT THE…?
He was annoying her. Incessantly. He’d played the “I’m not touching you” game for a good half hour. He poked her for five minutes straight. He rambled on and on and on and on about absolutely nothing at all. She wanted to hit him.
“Shokushu!” she yelled suddenly. He stopped mid-sentence.
“What the –”
“You were annoying me,” she said, interrupting him. “So I yelled the first thing that came to my mind.”
“But what was it?” he asked.
“Dunno,” she shrugged.
“And you call me annoying,” he said, smiling cheekily. “At least I don’t go around yelling random nonsense words.”
“But you will,” she sighed, laughing at her companion.
Picture 13 - REINCARNATION
She never believed in another life after death. How could she when neither philosophy nor modern science could prove human existence? Yet here she was, with billions of her fellow man.
It was still cold, but the spring thaw was slowly beginning to happen. Snow was starting to melt and turn to slush. The sun was starting to peak out more, and the skies were more blue than gray. The temperatures were slowly making the climb northward above the frigid numbers.
She never believed in another life after death, but as she saw the green grass peak out from the slush, the buds form on the trees, the flowers pushing their way defiantly through the ground, the first cocoons open and the beautiful creatures within them set free; as she heard the first birdsongs of spring, how could she not believe in something?
Picture 14 - TOMORROW
Tomorrow. He said he’d love her tomorrow. They said she’d get it tomorrow. She would have it by tomorrow. Her friends would call her tomorrow. She would feel better tomorrow. Things would go her way tomorrow. The sun would shine in the sky tomorrow. The weather would be warm tomorrow. Her tears would stop tomorrow. The world would be right tomorrow. Tomorrow is a better day.
But tomorrow never came.
Tomorrow is a lie.
Picture 15 - HOT SHOWER
He stumbled through the door on weak legs, muscles screaming for rest. He was just thankful to finally be home. Work was trying – long periods of time away from his drab, single-male apartment. But he was glad to be home.
His arms hurt; his back was stiff. Five days of laying statue still did nothing for one’s body.
He threw his coat on the table, slipped out of his shoes, and locked the door. He began to strip as he walked back to the bathroom.
He turned on the shower and stepped inside, letting the hot water uncoil his tense, tired muscles.
He began to hum as his spirits began to lift. It was good to be home.
Picture 16 - SPARKLE
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
It had just finished raining. She sat on her porch with her lover.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Rain was falling from the wind chime that hung in front of them.
Drip. Drip.
As each water droplet would fall, the sun would catch it, making it sparkle like the new diamond that sat on her finger. She smiled as she wrapped her arms around one of his.
Drip.
Picture 17 - FORGOTTEN
He was her best friend and went everywhere with her. To the store. To the doctors. To the dentist. On family trips. And even to her mother’s funeral.
But his girl had been small and young then. Years came and went, and his girl grew steadily into a woman. No longer were her interests in dolls and dress-up. Now she spent her time with friends and boys.
He sat in a corner of the cold, damp basement with all her other old stuffed animals and toys, alone and forgotten.
Picture 18 - ADDICTION
It was sugar sweet, this hell he was in. He watched her, memorized every single thing she did. All her quirks. All her habits. The way she would smile. The way she would laugh. How she’d frown. How she’d flirt. Everything.
He couldn’t get enough of her. He tried to stay way from the café, but it was useless. Every thought was of her. Her eyes were seared into his mind. Her sent never left his nose. The way her hair would shine was forever in his eyes. He couldn’t stay away.
He was addicted.
Picture 19 - AIR
She would never be able to survive without him. She needed him like the roses needed the rain. He was the reason she got up in the morning. He was the reason she smiled.
She needed him like the flower needed the sun. He was her food. He was her drink. He was her shelter. He was her clothing. He was her joy. He was her everything. Most of all, he was her air.
Picture 20 - MIST
Night was falling on the harbor. The fog began to move in, and with it, it brought a thick, unearthly mist.
She stood on the dock waiting. Always waiting. Everyone knew he’d never be back but never had the heart to tell her he was dead. This night was no different.
With the mists brought the unmistakable wail of a fog horn. She knew right away it was his.
They found her the next morning face down in the water, dead. Carved into the flesh on her back were the words: NO MATTER THE DISTANCE, I’LL BE HOLDING YOUR HAND.
Picture 21 - SOLID
She had been floating, lost in the immense, all encompassing placenta. She drifted on the sea of forsaken dreams. She skimmed the surface of reality, leaping from day to day, searching for it.
But she was trapped in the liquid prison, unable to escape its watery depths. She could do nothing to stop herself from falling farther.
Once she had looked up and saw a piercing, bright light on top of the blackness, and she swam towards it; swam with all her might to reach it. And there, on the other side of the light, was what she had been looking for.
He wrapped her in his arms, and she smiled. He was solid.
Picture 22 - WATER
She dove into the black depths of the pool, feeling free for perhaps the first time in her life. There were no worries or cares. No bothers. No mistakes. There was nothing as she let the coolness glide over her body.
She could hear nothing as she sank lower and lower until her feet touched the sandy bottom and the white foam was far above her. She could fly.
The water set her free. The water never judged her. The water made her pure. She was one with the water.
Picture 23 - RUN AWAY
She ran. They followed. She hid. They found her. She begged and pleaded and prayed. They ignored her. She bribed. They scoffed. She promised. They laughed. She fought. They fought back.
No matter her distance, they were always only steps behind her, hunting her down like a worthless mutt. She would think she was safe, but their ugly faces would rear themselves. And she would run again. And they would follow.
The past chased her when she tried to run away from it. But once she confronted it, it was just another old memory inside of her. There was nothing to be scared of.
Picture 24 - MASQUERADE
She didn’t feel right. She felt fake. She felt like she was pretending, and she was. She felt cheap.
It didn’t make any sense to her to pretend to be something she wasn’t, but everyone else was. And she so desperately wanted to fit in.
So she traded her clothes out for cooler threads, started caking make-up on her face, and added the prissy attitude to top everything off.
She looked at the mask she had put on herself in the mirror and sighed. It was just another day at the masquerade.
Picture 25 - ILLUSIONS
Day in and day out it was the same thing. Please the masses. Awe the women. Make the children laugh. Amaze the men.
But it’s not like she minded too much. It wasn’t what she saw herself doing, but it was a living. And the money was much better than she ever thought.
She set up for her next trick as her friend and fellow gypsy threaded herself through the crowds. She knew that since she was working with fire, a large throng would gather. She wasn’t disappointed.
She spit fire and smiled devilishly as a golden pocket watch gleamed in the noon sun. Half of its worth would be hers.
It was the greatest illusion of all.
Picture 26 - SECRETS
No one would ever know. She’d make sure of it. It would be her secret.
With a little water, the blood would wash off her hands. The body could easily be taken care of. She knew of many hiding spots. A finger could go there. A toe over there. A tooth or two farther over. The bastard deserved what he got.
No one would ever know. She’d make sure of it. It would be her secret.
Picture 27 - HERO
“You’re my hero. You saved me in more ways than you’ll ever know. You picked me up when I said I couldn’t stand. You pushed me when I couldn’t go on anymore. When I went blind, you were my eyes, and when I became deaf, you were my ears. When I was mute, you were my voice. When I was weak, you were my strength. It’s because of you that I’m here today. I don’t know what I could ever do to repay you,” she said, tears in her eyes as she confessed the feelings locked inside her heart.
He smiled. “Just say you love me.”
“I love you,” she said as tears of joy began to fall.
Picture 28 – MOURNING
The night he died, she dreamed that she was a child again and that she was at the fair. She was laughing and jumping about, having a grand time, and her father had even bought her one of those big, purple balloons.
Later in the day during all the excitement and carrying-on, the string on the balloon had loosened itself from her wrist and floated up and up and up. And she cried wretchedly as a heavy weight settled on her chest.
She woke with tears streaming down her face as that intense weight clenched at her heart.
Picture 29 – METAMORPHOSIS
She was a butterfly just spreading her wings after a long sleep. She had broken from her cocoon, and now she was free.
Picture 30 – EPITAPH
All the mourners had gone. He stood alone on the grassy hill. The sun was setting, painting the sky a myriad of colors. He smiled, knowing she would have thought it was beautiful. Sunset had always been her favorite time. He could often find her on the roof watching it.
It was a nice spot; from it, he could see everything beautifully. Well, he thought, if you gotta go, it might as well be with a bang. The day couldn’t have been prettier had it been planned. A perfect ending, he mused silently, to a life cut all too short.
Picture 31 – JUDAS
The sound of guns being cocked filled his ears. He moved to pull his own from the holster to protect her. But he wasn’t fast enough. The sound of a lone gun being readied echoed in the ally. He looked for her only to find that it was she who was pointing the gun at him. It was a trap.
She laughed as she backed up against the wall in the shadows. A wicked grin plastered itself on her face as one of the men behind her wrapped his arms around her. The kiss that followed turned his stomach, and he longed to look away from them but found he couldn’t.
She was his beloved. His snake in Eden. His Valkyrie. His Judas.
Picture 32 – CODA AND REFRAIN
She listened across the room to where he stood, singing. His rustic Baritone resounded in her ears as an involuntary shiver went down her spine. His voice sounded hopeful and full of mirth. Her dark spirits rose as it slowly trailed up and down the music.
She followed along in her score. Staff after staff he sang; measure after measure. The second coda came and took him back to the beginning of the refrain.
Coda and refrain, she thought with a smile, was merely love’s way of saying rinse and repeat.
Picture 33 – UNREQUITED
“I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just that I don’t feel the same way,” he said.
“Will you ever?” she asked, ever hopeful.
“No,” he shook his head. “No, I don’t think I ever will.”
He turned and began to walk away from her. She had told him everything – how dearly she had loved him – and he had killed her with his reply.
With a pitiful yelp, she sunk to her knees and wept wretchedly as her heart bled to death.
Picture 34 – SKY
She wondered how something could be so beautiful and serene and yet so volatile.
The sky could change from blue and sunny to gray and dark in just a couple of seconds. Vaguely, she thought it reflected her moods. When she was happy, the sky was blue. When she would laugh, the sun would shine. When she was angry, the sky was gray. When she was sad, the rain cried for her.
Picture 35 – ONE MORE SONG
“I’m dying,” she said. “The doctors told me in their own round about way.”
“The chemo can’t stop it?” he asked, sitting next to her bed. She shook her head.
Twenty-seven years to be shot down by a disease that ate her away from the inside. He nodded sadly, but his wife smiled.
“Do you remember the first song we danced to? I’d like to dance just one last time.”
“There’s no music.”
“We have the music in our heads,” she laughed.
He helped her up. The nurses couldn’t help but cry when they saw the graying couple dancing slowly down the hallway, humming songs they’d never heard.
Picture 36 – GRAVITY
It was a chance meeting at best. He’d saved her from some creep. They talked for a little bit while he walked her to her destination. When they got there, he vanished into the crowd.
In those minutes, she knew she was supposed to be with him. It just felt so right to have her arm curled around his.
She went back there for days, but nothing. He had vanished just as quickly as he’d appeared.
She turned to leave when she bumped into something hard and warm. She looked up to see him smiling down at her, offering his arm once more. She took it.
There was some strange attraction – some queer gravity – drawing them ever closer.
Picture 37 – MOTHER
Momma? Where have you gone? Momma? Are you ok? Why did you leave me, Momma? Why did you have to go?
Was it me, Momma? Was I not good enough for you? I’ll try harder, Momma. I promise.
Momma, wait! Momma, I love you! Momma, please! Don’t! Not yet! I’ll be better.
Wait! I haven’t kissed you good-bye yet! No! I haven’t told you good-night! Don’t! Momma, I love you!
Momma…? Momma…! Momma, Momma, wake-up! Momma, please?! Momma!
Picture
It was another bleak hotel room. The curtains were drawn, making the room dark and eerily orange.
Glass bottles littered the floor. The air stank of stale alcohol and vomit. Smoke from a forgotten cigarette wafted carelessly up.
The figure in the bed curled tighter into her ball. She wiped drunkenly at her tear streaked face.
Without him, life would never be the same.
Tuesdays were her favorite day of the week. Every morning, after she was dressed, she would gather her clothes from the passed week and pack them into her car and drove down to the All-Nite coin laundry mat.
She enjoyed doing laundry, but that wasn’t way she loved Tuesdays. The thought of putting her dedicates in the same washer and dryer as hundreds of other people made her inwardly cringe. But every Tuesday at roughly 11:00, she would walk through the doors. She walked over to her usual washer next to the man she secretly had her eye on.
Yes, she thought, smiling; she loved laundry day.
Picture 40 – HAIR
They stomped the snow from their boots as he shut the door to the cold and the storm behind them. After they stripped off their winter coats and scarves and gloves, he started a fire, and she put hot cocoa on the stove.
She joined him shortly afterward with two steaming mugs and handed one to him. He took it and patted next to him for her to sit. The fire was warm, and she leaned against him. Her hands found his braid, and she unbound it deftly. The silken strands shone in the warm firelight. She smiled, loving the cold, harsh winters, and even wider knowing why.
Picture 41 – CIGARETTE
She opened her pack and smiled. Her nerves were shot, and having that shrew of his around now didn’t help any. How was she supposed to get him to notice her when all he thought about was that devil woman?
She took a fresh cancer stick out and put it to her lips. She didn’t remember when or why she started smoking. She inhaled and sighed.
He was the Nicotine, she decided; everything that kept her coming back. And his shrew was all the poison. Everything that wanted her dead. She laughed heartily out loud at that irony.
Picture 42 – DEVIL’S LOGIC
There was no time to think about what he was doing. It was do or die. He couldn’t afford to be innocent like other children his age. He was a fighter. He had to stand and face the enemy. There was no such thing as sacrifice. His orders were clear, and they were justified by conviction.
That’s why he took up the gun. He was damned either way. Why not take a few hundred people to hell with him?
Picture 43 – KYRIE ELEISON
She went from place to place searching for it, but it was lost to her – and to all, it seemed. No matter where she went or how hard she searched, she couldn’t find it; it was lost. There was no peace – no love. Gone.
So she did the only thing she could think of. She fell to her knees in the rain-soaked street and screamed until her throat was raw and bloody. Her cry – her prayer – peace… or death.
Picture 44 – TRUTH
Being locked in a cell made it hard for her to look. But it wasn’t impossible. He tisked at her, watching as she tore through the newspaper. She was looking in all the wrong places. Couldn’t she see? What she was looking for wasn’t in any paper or book or document or file. It wasn’t even anywhere outside of her 10X14 foot cell. She was just too blind to see it.
The truth was always there; it was just buried deep down inside of her.
Picture 45 – MONSTERS
She had been on top of the world one moment and in the slums the next. She asked herself again and again how she could let something like that happen to her. How she could be so stupid – so bloody blind.
But then again, it didn't really matter now, did it?
Rain pounded the roof, thunder shook the windows, and lightning lit the room for a brief second, the priest coming closer to lay a reassuring hand on the forsaken girl.
She looked up at him, and in the dim light he could see her eyes were glassy and doll-like. Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears as she asked in a broken whisper, “Do monsters dream?”
Picture 46 – SUICIDE
“Suicide,” he muttered.
“What is?” she asked. He looked down at her to find her looking up at him.
“Love,” he said simply, bringing his other arm around her small body, pulling her even closer to him, stroking her long, silky hair gently.
“Then we’ll die together,” she said, burying her face into his strong chest. “Just don’t get lost in Heaven.”
Picture 47 – SAXOPHONE
The bar was nearly empty, save for a few of the regulars. She wasn’t one of them. The barkeep shook his head when she ordered him to leave the bottle, but he did. It was after her fifth or sixth shot that she heard it. It was the saddest, most mournful sound she had ever heard, so of course it attracted her attention immediately.
He was silhouetted in perfect shadow, but his saxophone shone in the stingy, dirty light. Despite her drunkenness, she could remember perfectly the reason she was in the bar. That tune brought back all the wrong memories of her old life. All the pain and heartache. All the lies and betrayals. She began to cry softly, not bothering to bat the tears away.
When he was finished, she whispered brokenly, “Play it again.”
Picture 48 – DAMAGED
Every single day, she died a little. Every single smile, a little more fake. Every single laugh, a little more forced. Every single sniffle, a little louder. Every single tear, a little more real. He noticed. He would ask her if everything was alright, and she would wave him off, insisting everything was fine. But they both knew that was a lie.
Picture 49 - RING
It was a simple enough saying. Her grandmother had told it to her when she was just a child. “Put the name of the person you love in a circle instead of a heart; a heart can break, but a circle goes on forever.” She said it so many times that no one really noticed when she’d say it any more. So, it came as a shock to him when she handed him a simple piece of white paper with a circle on it, their names in the middle.
Picture 50 – MEMORY
It was raining the night she was killed. The moon was high and full in the sky; the stars looked like diamonds.
It wasn’t until after her funeral that they found the note. It was while they were cleaning out her room. When he read it aloud, his voice broke, and his eyes blurred with tears.
“I don’t deserve your sympathy. My only wish is that you don’t let me fade. Shield my memory as you would that of a candle flame in the gull of a raging tempest. And in return – just like the flame – I shall give you warmth and protection until your final hour when I finally burn out; we shall be together again. I shall always be with you, no matter what. I love you. Remember me.”
He clapped a hand over his mouth to smother a mournful yelp. It was all he could do. The tears were already trailing down his cheeks.
Picture 51 – RUN
He had finally built up the courage to tell her. He said it over and over again for hours to himself, loving the way that her name and “I love you” rolled off of his tongue. The words themselves tasted sweet, and he shivered, thinking about how sweet she would taste when he kissed her.
He had admired her for years, and, as they worked together, that admiration grew to something deeper, something more. It grew to love.
He found her in the hallway. She was just about to go into her room.
“I love you,” he said. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Her heart stopped – not from dread but because she had waited for forever to hear him say that to her.
But she took the coward’s way out.
“I’m sorry.”
Picture 52 – MUSIC
The room was quieter then death. There wasn’t a sound to be heard. Even their breathing was silent. He was dozing off into slumber, his brawny arms wrapped around her small form half atop his. She had a mammoth smile plastered on her face
.
Although the room was silent, her ear was filled with the most wonderful music.
“I love you, you know,” she said, daring to break the silence.
“I know,” he said, not bothering to open his eyes. “I love you more.”
She gave him a soft, chaste kiss, and laid her head back over his heart to listen to his music again.
Picture 53 – UNKNOWN
Where there was once a child now stood a man. Where there were once small, stick-like arms now were large, brawny trunks. Where once there was a cherub-like face there is now a face with hard, muscular planes. Where once there were cheeky, boyish eyes there are now masked, calculated eyes. Where once there were wounds there are now scars; where once there was a carefree aura there is now a closed one of a fallen angel who knows, but what it isn’t clear.
She had noticed these changes in him, but she never saw them. To her, it was like looking at him through frosted glass. He was her best friend, but now… she didn’t know. She couldn’t help but think that, after all the baby fat melted away, he was a stranger, even though she had known him her entire life.
Picture 54 - BREATHE
The last thing she remembered was being knocked to the ground. Her body felt like lead. It was a battle for her to even blink her eyes. Her lungs felt filled with water, and each breath was a struggle. She could feel something thick and sticky run down her body. From the harsh, metallic sent, she could tell it was blood.
And then her eyes landed on him. He was running towards her, his face screwed up in concern.
“No, no, no!” he yelled, cursing under his breath as he knelt beside her. He could do nothing but watch as her chest stopped. She could do nothing but watch him cry.
Picture 55 – MASK
He was a flawless assassin. Nearly. His eyes were his only weak point. He would be forced to wear dark glasses to hide the sympathy in his eyes.
When he was assigned a partner, he was livid. And, to top it all off, his partner was a woman. At first, things were rocky, and he would bite at her often.
Eventually, however, things ironed themselves out between them. Instead of working as two separate people, the performed as a single entity. There was chemistry there between the two; he definitely felt it. There was only one thing that still vexed him. He hated that she didn’t have to hide her eyes like he did.
Picture 56 – WORLD
The sad truth of the matter is that there are just too many of them to count let alone care about anymore. The even sadder aspect: none of them have ever felt the warmth of an embrace. They’re lost and alone, too young to break the chains into which they were shackled. Nameless, they’re born, but never ever known – just another grimy, dirty face on the street.
The streets double as graves for the weak ones that lost the fight. Their eyes are dull and dead without hope. Fear is inbred into them; they shrink at every outsider’s face. And the outsiders are no better. They just walk right past.
The truth of the matter is that they’re tired of “Good-bye” and “I’m sorry”. They know that they’re human-beings, and they know that they deserve better. But just because they know doesn’t mean that something will happen.
Picture 57 – WAIT
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“There are better ways.”
“I know that, too.”
“Then why are you here?”
“…”
“See those lights down there? They won’t catch you if you jump.”
“I don’t want them to.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because all the tears that I’ve cried are just like promises that were never kept.”
“I can help you.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can. Give me your hand. Please, don’t jump.”
“It’s snowing.”
“Yes. It is. Now, please come in.”
“Why?”
“…There are all the memories we’ve made. Don’t you remember them?”
“Of course.”
“Take my hand. If I can’t hold you back, I’ll jump for you.”
“What will that prove?”
“That I love you enough to die so you don’t have to.”
Picture 58 – COLD
Inside, she was warm. Inside, she liked to cuddle and laugh. Inside, she liked to play in the rain and dance in the snow. Inside, she liked to sing. Inside, she liked stuffed animals and Saturday morning cartoons. Inside, she liked puppies and kittens. Inside, she liked video games and playing tag in the park. Inside, she liked to sit and watch the night sky.
Outside, she would sit and watch the night sky. Outside, she would sit indoors and read a book and scoff at the colorful graphics. Outside, she would glare at the animals. Outside, she was too deep into her book to even notice the television or the new teddy-bear. Outside, she was silent. Outside, she hated the snow and detested the rain. Outside, she was mean and distant. Outside, she was cold.
Picture 59 – FATHER
Daddy, are you happy where you are? I tried to be your good little girl; honest I did.
Did I make you proud, Daddy? I tried my very best.
Daddy, what’s it like where you are? Do you miss me, Daddy? Do you miss me like I miss you? Are you in a better place now, Daddy?
There are some things that I forgot to say, Daddy. I’m going to say them now.
I love you, Daddy. I wish I could have kissed you good-bye. I wish I could have told you good-night. Daddy, I wish I could have given you a hug.
I still love you, Daddy. Promise you won’t forget me…
Picture 60 – VANILLA
He wasn’t sure if it was because of her shampoo or her laundry soap, but she smelled like vanilla. He didn’t have anything against vanilla. The sent seemed to fit her. She was pale, and vanilla was a pale sent – or so he thought.
And vanilla was simple and elegant. Those were the two words that described her almost perfectly. There was a subtle class about her that most women just didn’t have. She took comfort in the softer, less complex aspects of life. She wore little to no make-up, and her clothes were classic. They covered her body but accented her curves well. She was soft-spoken and gentle.
Just like vanilla. There were no over-powering flavors or surprises in vanilla. Vanilla was just vanilla – she never pretended to be anything else.
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