When I open my eyes and gaze at the quivering light from beneath the heavy lust of trees I find myself lost again. All the footprints that could have lead home are now smudged in the mud. My feet can still sense the moist in the grass which seems to be now parched again.The sweet fragrance of wet soil provides utmost pleasure to my nostrils. It feels as if it was just yesterday when Anna and I use to come out here and play. The echoes of our childhood laughter still surround the forest like swarm of bees around their nest.
"Why get from A to B calmly when you can go mach one and arrive with your hair looking like a baby troll? We guarantee that while you can't speak because you can't breath, your soul will be tuned up to the max. Feeling alive never felt so good or so easy. Get on a hover board today and feel the exhilaration of total fear."
Streaming tears cleansed her red cheeks. Few droplets remained, forgetting their way as the path was swept from beneath them, consequently blurring the Amelia's vision with waves of sadness only the broken encounter. The salty release calmly flowed into her mouth so that she could taste her own sorrow.
Bitter. Unforgiving. Pain.
Limp extremities creaked and cracked under the pressure of her body. Amelia's lifeless corpse navigated the streets with grotesque difficulty as she neared her home. She cried out for help, just for a sign someone was there for her, but the whimper was slowly lost in the thinning air.
Then she started to remember. Her smile. Her voice. Memories flooding back into her head. The mysterious girl that exited her life so abruptly leaving her so vulnerable and lonely. The beautiful girl that took her heart...
So Amelia was left reminiscing and indulging in her past; ignoring her unverified future.
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.
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...
Something flashed beneath the surface of his hardened expression and I hurried to investigate the sudden shift. It was too late, the emotion disappeared before I could identify it, like reaching desperately for an escaped balloon; the string dangling so tantalizingly close but the wind pushed it away and it's lost forever.
Perhaps we can see Hogwarts as a representation of colonialism, the "goods" turning up as if by magic to form a banquet in the western industrialised world - the workers kept out of sight and wishing only to serve their 'masters' and we should be careful that they don't have "socks." Is it here a deep metaphor of white-middle class Britain, a subconscious awareness and fear of the producers of the goods upon which we consume. Are our conscious minds being bastions of justice while we ignore the media-planted fears.