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.
A derelict house stood before me, repugnant and mouldy. Only fear anchored my feet in the darkness. An immense storm could be heard in the distance, echoing through the silent night. Lighting ripped the inky sky. The silver hues of clouds became as molten silver, swirling, ripples radiating. I crept to the paint-crumbling door amid low struggling trees.
I twisted the handle of the door, it creaked, the sound becoming whispers that filled the room, urging me to run lest I end up as lost and lonely as they. One moment I was outside, the next I was within, despite never taking a step. The door slammed. There was no exit. The floorboards moaned with age. Suddenly something tugged at me, something with a icy grip...
What started out as a new British Bull Dog foreign policy, Britain committing to the defence of Europe, expanded to a truly maternal policy from the "motherland" to the former colonies. If Britain was ever to make up for colonialism, then in times of global instability, she had to lend her military prowess wherever needed by the commonwealth. She did this as a nuclear power, yet also assisting in matters of farming, water security, housing and medical matters where asked to. For this service she took nothing, and with the reputation of the British for bravery, heroism and loyalty - Britain was trusted in this protective role.
"You like your guns, yeah? Well, think of the virus as a home-invader and your body as your home. Along comes the virus-home-invader and sneaks in the front door. Boom! Your vaccine is there to blast him to kingdom come! Unless you're one of those anti-vaxxers, in which case you have no 'gun' and you're dead. So is your family." So get protected against Mr Measles the home invader and his accomplices.
I know it’s an addiction. Everyone tells me. But it’s to painful to let go of. It’s always there for me when nothing else is. It makes my brain feel happy again. And I feel so bad to just let go because it’s like my best friend. What’s my addiction you ask? Well it’s...
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.
Against the dark night sky all Steve could see was the crumbling walls that were nothing more than a ghostly silhouette of some previous existence. The wind whistled through the trees bringing with it the laughter of children who once lived there and the caring call of a mother letting them know dinner was ready.
Vividly he could picture his childhood. The walls didn’t seem so grey when he was only a boy, nor did they seem so small. In his mind he pictured this place as though it were a castle where he and his brother were the Princes. His mother and father would glide through the once pristine halls, the King and Queen of their kingdom. He felt like no time had passed since he moved from this house, yet as he gazed upon the overgrown bushes and the shattered windows it was evident just how wrong he was.
She stumbled to the corner of the room, and with each step her stomach tightened and ached all the more. She kept swallowing, and her throat kept clenching, but no matter what she could not stop the warm feeling rising through her chest. Then she could taste it at the back of her mouth. Constance buckled over. A warm, clouded, cream coloured liquid spilled from her mouth, and sizzled as it splashed over the cold stone floors.