kiyato0gamemi
It's not like I wanted to meet him, our paths just happened to cross one day. But I don't regret meeting him. He's taught me more than any could imagine, and we were simply strangers on a train. He still changed my life though.
It's amazing what happens when you meet someone about to die.
Faster.
Faster.
More momentum.
If he wanted to do this right then he needed more momentum.
Faster.
Faster.
He was at the jump, no time left.
An explosion behind them, caught by their makeshift sail.
Did it work?
Splash!
They made it.
Lies, legends, myths.
What are the differences between these words?
Myths are often ancient religions we choose to place there out of ridiculousness in our eyes.
Legends are old stories that cannot be proved but are told to have just a grain of truth.
Lies are usually fresh and new, can be of any size and shape, and aren't always known as such.
If myths and legends are lies, then what makes us believe that our religions and histories are true?
The stick brown substance covered him entirely. I saw bits of rocks, sticks and many other things one might find on the ground, even a feather on his knee.
He proudly held up his completed mudpie, a smilyface fromed by small white stones and formed into a heart shape.
Happy birthday to me.
Lowly fool.
He thought that someone such as he could stand against me.
He even got some of his 'friends' to help rise against me.
Pawns should not attempt to rise against the king.
It wasn't special, just a simple stone you could find at the bottom of any pond or stream.
It was plain in appearance, grey with small black flecks of an unknown mineral spread randomly accross it.
But in those small hands handing it to me as though it were the rarest, most precious stone in the world; common became something magical.
I admire the red that surrounds me as a shape appears across your chest.
The elegance of it's flow is breathtaking and I must stand back and gaze at it a moment as I smile.
My work is so pretty, and now, though I have taken the one that was in you, you wear a deep red heart.
And into your flesh, my mark I have carved.
The bleach dripped onto the black cloth, staining it white.
It makes it appear like fresh-fallen snow, or perhaps a wedding gown.
Not stained deep red as both were that night I lost you.
Something isn't there.
But what am I missing?
What possibly can I not have in this life?
I know I don't have much but I am happy, with friends, family and a lover.
What is it that is not there?
What am I without?