Dustyhawk :: Broken Mirror

“Would you like to cry ?” he asked the girl who had a sad face and was seating in front of him, “Huh ?” she spoked and she continued by saying, “Cry? What do you mean if I would like to cry?”. The guy, took a sip of his water and he asked, “Would you like to cry?” .

Puzzled, she got up and walked up to him and asked him, what did he mean about that. Looking into the glass which he was holding, he spinned the water inside and with a sigh he began. Tales of the world and how he came to asked of this question and how no one wanted to answer him. As the girl listened intently to the stories spewed by the young man, she felt something tugging insider her heart.

During the sips and in between chit-chat, they began to understand each other and the question posed. “Would you like to cry?”, in all certainty she would have said no and yet this time she said yes. The girl placed her head on his shoulder and began to cry. About fifteen minutes later she stopped crying, wiped her tears and she was smiling and laughing.

The guy tilted his head and then asked “Do you know why?” , “No, I do not know. But I do want to know” , she stated. The guy got up from the chair, took out his wallet and place his payment on the table and said, “I too do not know, but I think you have the answer now”.

They walk together, they ran together, they fell in love together but they fell apart individually. Oh the stains on the sheets showed nothing at all. The stains on their eyes were all but gone. Hearts racing back and forth, the world continued to turn and cared not for them at all.

One wanted it all and the other unwanted it all. They were love and hate, the sides of the coin. Like light and darkness, they could not exist without each other and yet if they stayed together something is bound to happen. The mysteries of what had transpired on the thirteenth moon of the seven seas of rhye.

Oh clement, oh loving virgin of Apophis’ sacrifice, here them speak the words of silent. Silently speaking, ever breaking and ever making the sounds that deafens us all. Deafen us with the choirs of retribution and inflame the damnation with helleaven. Ragnarok of Norse legend upon us fall. Fall like the leaves of autumn, fade to grey oh you who fades.

End of the world.

The door opens. The sunlight shone upon the world that was left in the dark. He began to mutter something about God, about humanity, about the one he love. As he looks up into the cerulean skies, tears fell from his eyes and glided on his cheeks. Overflowing, gliding slowly and slowly dripping and dripping towards a sweet face.

He looks down and there’s a face which he knew too well. A lost love, his comrade and the one he swore to give his life up for. That familiar face, now lifeless and yet there was something about that face. As he looked at the face, a spring time of emotions exploded and confused the mind. God had taken away the only person he love and yet on the face of the former lover was a smile so sweet that sins which is mortal can be forgiven by both words and soul.

How could have this happen to him ? Why these feelings of both love and hate ? Different sides on the same coin? As he got up, place the love down on the debris and even with sadness filling his heart; smile now. Smile for going after God is next to impossible and going after another for bittersweet revenge brings emptiness.

Such a smile on that face of the lover. For violence, revenge and retribution does not bring back the dead. Living on, moving onward and to pay it forward are the task that he must do for the sake of the love he once had. No, it must be done because the love is still there blooming,fanning the flames upon the people who never knew about the love.

Cover up the lover, erect a holy symbol according to his believe. Walk on. Walk on dear friend and watch over us as we look up into the skies and hope to see you smile. Smile to us, show to us in minor display and let us raise this glass.

in memoriam of our beloved Bernard

It was the night of Christmas Eve and somewhere on the other side of eternity (which is somewhere after today but before tomorrow) a tear of incredible sadness slowly welled up within the eye of a beautiful young lady. The sorrow within the tear was so great, that though it desperately wanted to stay with her to give whatever comfort it could, the weight of the pain it contained eventually caused it to fall. It fell through eternity, across countless galaxies, star systems and universes until it found itself entering the atmosphere of our own world.

There, while falling through the clouds, it was slowed for a moment as it landed on a strand of the Princess of Winter’s snow-white hair. The tear ran to the end of that strand, where it lingered for a moment, before continuing its fall. The Princess, having noticed her small visitor, had blessed the teardrop transforming it into a snowflake, which allowed it to continue the remainder of its journey in a gentle descent among countless other snowflakes, until it finally landed in front of an old toy store in New York City.

Now, while the snowflake was nestling in amongst its fellow winter travelers, downtown in the business district on Wall Street, all was unusually quiet. The streets were empty of people and cars and a thick layer of still falling snow muffled everything, even the footsteps of dreams on their way to tomorrow. Everyone had gone home early to prepare for all the promised magic of the next day and the lights were out in every office window.

Well, nearly every office window. Up on the fifty-eighth floor of one massive office building, a single office window was still brightly illuminated in cold fluorescent light. Within that office sat a businessman going through legal documents. He was a gentleman, in his early sixties with graying hair, but still in excellent physical condition. Calling for his secretary, the man was visibly annoyed to have received no response.

Getting up, he looked out his office door only to see every desk and cubicle empty. “Christmas,” he muttered disgustedly as he realized that everyone had long since gone and he would be getting no other work done this night. Putting on his coat and scarf, he grabbed his briefcase and left. Stepping out to the street, his frustration mounted as he soon came to the conclusion that his probability of finding a cab was extremely low at best. Resigning himself to the situation, he pulled his coat a little tighter and started walking home. [to be continued]

–taken from TSO’s Lost Christmas Eve

Looking around the house and for something that could change the things that had happen before. He hid behind the window and the door, while searching for signs of life but there’s nobody home. Now, maybe he is just too sure or maybe just too frightened by the sound of it as the silent white noise deafen his auditory senses.

Sitting around the house, he watches the sun trace shadows on the bed where he lies on. Signs of life is out there, but there’s nobody to tell him where to look. Maybe, if he wrote a letter or make that phone call. He could find out there is more to it all… But he is not too sure, yet he is just too proud to admit.

It was good, so good for you that you forget about how good it was. Moving on to the door, would he open it and smell the fresh air of freedom. Or would he sit back on the bed, hoping that some signs of life and the letter will say it is all good ? Maybe a congratulation should be given, to those who seem to care and for those lost souls on the hunting grounds of despair.

The time has come, you should move on.