He lays awake on bed, thinking of her. Reticent of love-days passed. Oh they seem so recent... A kaleidoscope flashes sweet images he cannot escape even with his eyes snapped shut. That oh so familiar scent fills his mind as he tosses and turns in his super-single bed, waiting for Sleep to take pity on him. He rants and raves at Memory to release him to the toils of the day only to be disappointed. This mind, a separate entity with a vengeance of her own, waiting to consume what is left of him.
It was an honor to be chosen for the Order. So few were allowed into the Walls to learn the great secrets. But then, to be chosen for the Takk Fe’ayri, and at only fifteen, Liln was a bit surprised. It was the youngest age one could be accepted as a First. She stood motionless while the others stared silently, expressionless eyes in soulless faces. All except Turvi, who quickly tugged at her arm.
Poetry… The creation of godly words set fire in the soul of Christ, then branded on the soul of Man.
In a crack between past and present, sits a young man on the snow melt creek near a monastery in Tibet. He meditates the world of words that has passed him by. A monk from the monastery on his way to town notices the young man alone, notices that he cries. He goes over to him to see if he’s alright.
Now all that was left was a broken plate. As I sat in bed, I recalled what had happened the night before. The look of hurt written all over her face when I yelled back at her for the first time. Why did I feel so bad inside just thinking about it all?
It was around four on a sunny afternoon on a Saturday that the whole thing happened. There were two friends that were playing video games,John and Natalie, and were spending the day together for the weekend at John's house. After a while they got bored of playing games. Natalie was on the phone texting with John next to her.