An ongoing collection of short stories and poems about the world we live in today.
When did things become so gray and clouded?
When did everyone's faces lose their bright and cheery smiles?
When did they lose the joy to celebrate everyday?
Where did all the sunlight within those happy little days I once knew so well go?
Where did all the sunlight that used to glow in everyone elses hearts go?
Why did it all turn into this?
Into fear and distrust?
And why had everyones eyes lose their color and shine;
When did it become to the point where we don't even know if we'll make it to our next birthdays?
Where did our love and trust for each-other go?
Oh wait...I remeber...
It went away when we lost our sense of morality...
Everything, everything is dangeous now because we ignored too much.
Every day that passes by, we walk on eggshells now. Scared to death.
Because now, death is truely something that can come at any time for us:
Into the places we used to eat in,
Into the places we used to drink coffee in and chat merrily in with one another,
Into the places we could read our books, the places were we could learn,
eat our lunches, and create together;
Even into the places where we listened to music;
Even into the places we pampered ourselves with glowing health and satisfaction.
And even into the places of our once secure and warm homes.
Everywhere is dangeous now.
Everywhere. Even if we go out for a short walk, we have to be on guard,
because our pet dogs won't be enough to protect us...
I could be the one that get's hit now. You could be the one that the piece of hot metal sinks into.
Into our flesh,
Triggered by troubled, selfish, and desperate hands. Hands that don't care that we too are breathing souls like them.
Hands that have probably hurt others more then once before.
Hands that are raw and scared from the skins, and walls, and cries they slapped at and smash into over, and over again.
Hands that needed help, but because of something or another, were unable to.
Those are hands that don't care about my life, your memories or what we've been through.
Those hands don't care if we suffered too and want to start our lives over.
Those hands don't care about our hands which are busy weaving passion for the bright future we always dreamed about.
Those hands will use our lives to scream out to the world about the unfairness their life had endured.
They are hands from the bodies that are cradling souls that had been tarnished from the darkness in this world.
They are hands that can obtain a weapon and use it to release your soul. Such a terrifying thought that it is so easy for those hands to get one,
and that they can and will take anyone they chose, without pity.
It doesn't matter if those people they take are suffering as well, that they could have been the one to help them through their darkness; help others like those broken souls. Because to them we're all just a means to an ends, so they scream and scream. And our dreams and passion, and work, die from the echos of those screams.
And the sad fact is, those hands feel like they are everywhere now...
Melancholy shines in my eyes and anguishes my soul, when I realised there is no safe place to go, to get away from those hands. Everyday I walk on the ground, I always pray it will not be my last step. I hate this. I was never like this before. I never had to be this afraid of death in my life...!
"Cheria! It's time for school." My mother calls from the kitchen; my favorite breakfast of eggs and bacon with orange juice inevitably waiting for me downstairs to eat. She's been doing that alot lately, making my favorite meals everyday. I know why she does it. It's not just because I'm her special princess or anything like that. It's not because I've been doing well in school. It's because it could either be the last thing I ever eat. Or it could be the last meal my mother ever makes for me. The last time we spend together...
Wherever we go, whether it's work or school, we never know anymore, and everyone around us thinks so too. Death could catch us anyday. Our futures are not certain anymore. Now there really is no gurentee I'll live another day. Sunlight doesn't exsist anymore. A long life isn't gurenteed anymore. I want to cry.
I just want to live. I want my family and friends to live too. Is that so much to ask, in this world that had once been bathed in sunlight?
I reach over to my phone lying beside me, wrapped up with in my bed-sheets. I think...I think I'm going to fake being sick again today. Maybe I can get Jennifier, Emily, Joey, and Tom to call in sick today too. Maybe I can get mom to do that too...
That way...at least I know we'll be living through today.