She's only five years old and unaffected by death. A little innocent light with so much joy. But that will soon change and I hate it.
"Hey, why are they burying Aunty Carla? She can't bake those yummy cookies in the ground! Stop!" she screams. The people who weren't already crying allowed tears to drip down their faces. "Stop it!" She screams, tears streaming down her face.
Unexpectedly, Levi bends down and hugs Dina. "Dina, she's going to sleep." Levi whispers, "Don't be so loud or you'll wake her." Dina cuddles Levi and wails. He strokes her hair and her back lovingly. That just overpowers me. I start crying loudly causing a chain reaction in the small group. Soon everyone who loved Carla are sobbing uncontrollably.
I walk up to the makeshift stage and begin my little speech, "Mam was kind and didn't hesitate to help someone in need. Her helpful spirit got her in trouble a few times but I don't think she ever regretted it. I-"I pause clearing my throat from the tears, "I won't ever let her out my heart, she will stay in here in peace. I love you, Mam." I place my hand on my heart. AOT SALUTE. My tears soaking the clothes I'm wearing.
"Don't cry Eren! Aunty Carla is just asleep," she cries trying to make me happier. I give her a sad smile and nod while walking off the 'stage'.
Slowly her coffin gets lowered into the hole. The closest relatives take turns with the spade, covering her inch by inch with dirt.
Bye Mam. I will miss you...
It was an old and battered briefcase with protruding tongues of leather. Its hide had known all weathers and rough treatments, enough to scar and mottle it.
Our games were our childhood, the hopscotch and the hide 'n' seek. There were so many variations of each game and all of them kept us running about all day long. We would climb trees, build damns in woodland streams and catch crabs at the seaside. There were games with rhymes, skipping and "cat's cradle." We played games of lyrics and clapping, games of dance, games of building structures. We were busy, we were together with friends and we learned how to get along. Isn't that what it's all about?
As much as she tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream. The beads of water started falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. She hit the wall and tried to scream, but her voice was melted by the sound of the place. The muffled sobs wracked against her chest. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was gone. The last painful emotion slammed against her before she lost the feeling of feeling. Everything darkened into nothingness as she passed into the oblivion of unconsciousness.
For one nation to control another for their own selfish purpose, through war or intellectual domination, is a form of barbarism; the divine gifts which we have been given are there for the purposes of loving and supporting each other. Thus with love as our "supreme first principle" we will find the roads to peace and global freedom.
No matter how much I screamed for help, no voice would come out ... or so I thought. In truth there was simply no-one left to hear, or rather no-one with the capacity to respond.
Tears rolled down, wetting every part of her cheek. Her eyes pleaded for Succor and help, albeit that she knew no one was coming. There was only darkness as her own demons haunted and strangled her. She was suffocating. In the pain of abandonment she almost forgot how to feel. She desired amnesia so that all this suffering could fade away, fade and allow memories of laughter to soothe her, to restore peace in her life.
The headscarf was the perfect compliment to her outfit, neither pastel nor flamboyant. She was always in colours that reminded me of spring flowers, sweet and strong.
In an era that needs to tackle pollution, targeted advertising (that in itself is an abuse of personal data) that uses psychological profiling to increase consumerism needs to end. Consumerism and pollution are directly correlated from production, to packaging to transport and disposal. The age of "Buy, buy, buy," needs to give way to a more grown up consideration of planet Earth and the needs of all of her inhabitants - of which humans are only one species.
It can be hard sometimes. Now and then we will choose the wrong way, a bit like moving against the grain.
We can ruin the wood we call life.
This can be hard to take back, since the damage has already been done.
It will scar you for a while, the mistakes we make but eventually it will fade into the past.
A simple decision can ruin our lives, but only you can choose whether to hold on to the past pain or let it go.
Lightning lit the skies in brilliant streaks. Fog embraced every tree, every square centimetre of of ground. Thunder declared itself as some rock star upon the stage. Sheets of rain revived the grass, resounding and rippling without frontier.
Above, the houses on the hill survive in valley-echoed hail.
Emerald eruptions of green envelop countryside in a carpet of living nature. Towers and trees - once boundless and bare - now flourish with vines, victorious as they claim their valley.
Streams once sucked of their nourishing liquids are now bustle with aquatic activity. Ripples run freely, harbingers of joy. The river, slowly but surely, creates a new liberty, surging over the banks to create a space, carving and forming the new paradise.
There, among the regenerating giant, a boy sat gazing out as nature unfolds its hidden secret.
When the desire of the ego for any gaudy crown is conquered, the humble heart gains the only approval that will ever truly matter.