Why Me, Why not Her?

By Hanna, 15, Bangor, Co. Down, Northern Ireland

I am the most ordinary girl in school.
I am the one with boring parents with boring jobs.
I am the one with annoying siblings.
I am the one with dull brown hair.
I am the one with common blue eyes.
I am the one with a red face after P.E.
I am the one with an un-accessorised school bag.
I am the one who's labelled broad-spectrum school girl.

So why did he pick me over her?


Her with the silky blond hair,
Her with the sparkling bluely-green.
Her with the TV star parents.
Her with the popular older siblings.
Her with the most glamorous school bag.
Her with the designer shoes.
Her who's said to be named Queen of Prom.

Why did he ask me to prom instead of her?

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Love

By Olowo, 14, Lagos, Nigeria

What is love?
where is love?
when does love come?
when does it vanish?
all these questions I ask myself
but can not answer any of them

when one loves how does he feel?
when one knows love how does he comprehend?
all these questions I ask myself
but can't find an answer to any of them

how is love?
what feeling does one feel when in love?
does it glow from within
or stay in one's heart?
all these questions I ask myself
but can not answer any of them.
(July 2009)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Golden Moments

By Hanna, 17, London, UK

What is love?

We say we are in it.
We fall into it.
It is substantial yet we cannot see it.
Its hurts and yet it can heal.

Volatile: it can shape us and break us.

How do you know when you love?

Can you control it?
Or must we accept that it controls us,
that we build our lives around aiming for it, holding onto it as it graces us with its presence.
Yet if it is but a mere emotion- do we not create it?

Does it exist at all?

I will never say I have been in love in the past.
I have never acknowledged deeper feelings for someone, concerning romance,
have never believed it was that ýloveý, with all its fireworks and devotion, that is was truly possible.

In that I am wrong.

There may be lung busting, heart wrenching, ballad-filled love that kills you as you rejoice in its light.
Yes, that may exist.

But there is another type of love all together.
- Where you can hate the person as you love them.
You see their faults, know the person they are, and have been, yet you would never wish them to change.
Truly.
Where you miss them as you wave goodbye, and smile at their memory.
Where your heart hurts a little every time they're not here and you find yourself listening to more love songs than that is necessarily healthy.

But you are not blinded.
You do not cry yourself to sleep because they are far.
You do not overwhelm their life, and celebrate in your own individuality.

That is love.


When you know they'll be there for you as you push them away.
When they see you you out of everybody else possible.
When they know your deepest secret and still don't leave you.
When their smile can make you giggle, glow, burn with desire.

When they hurt as they hurt you and when their frustration burns like acid.
When they push you away as you cling on and when you push as they cling.
The misunderstandings and the arguments.
The laughter and the hidden passion.
Growth.
All this is love.

A person told me love is when you see someone as family.

A person told me love is when you miss someone although you've been apart for only hours.

A person told me love is when your delusion is solid enough to balance upon and there you stand until it comes crashing down again.

Love is when you see someone.
-As you exist together transparently.
Love is something that can only exist out of willingness, trust. Excitement.
Love is not the comforting companionship we assume it to be.
It scratches more than it soothes at times. It is exciting and scary and daunting in its enormity.
Some refuse to feel it in some sort of self preservation and some throw them into it, sacrificial in their foolhardiness.

We use the word so much that it has lost some of its meaning.
(I love that top, that scarf, that film.)

And in trying to keep it special, emotions are hidden; we have no way to communicate just what is going on inside...

Wait a month.

2 months.

A year.

Don't throw away the privilege of this vast horizon before you have walked toward it.
Identify it before it is gifted.
Revel in its warmth before you pass it on.
Love love itself and its rewards will be reaped.

Love is found.
(July 2009)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

My Heart Is For You

By Olivia , 14, Honolulu, Hawaii, USA

I sit here now, thinking of you.
As you are not here, my heart is so blue.
It desires you so & it's awful thinking you may never come,
But my heart has made a song for you, it'll only hum.
My heart is an empty hollowness when you're not here,
It's like my heart is human, it might even shed a tear.
I know now that I'll see you again,
After spring is gone it'll no longer rain,
Because I'll see you again, I know,
Spring is gone, and the sunshine will grow.
Because we are together, united as one,
We are also connected with the sun.
The sun is happy and bright,
And when I'm with you, everything seems alright.
There is so much in the world we'll never get to see,
But if we stay together, we'll surely get the key.
The key to the freedom world of course,
Where fun and freedom is not a scarce source.
We'll run through the meadows, being bright like the sun,
But only if we are together as one.
Here I am now, you not here,
You've made my heart happy, you're such a dear.
Now that my heart knows you'll be back,
It'll be sturdy and brave for you like a hard metal rack.
I love you, I'm sure you know that by this time,
Good thing this love poem will actually rhyme.
(July 2009)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

I Wish I Was Her

By Jessica, 15, Prestwick, Scotland

I wish I was her,
With the long, blond hair.
I wish I was her,
With the eyes as blue as the sea.
I wish I was her,
With the model like figure.
I wish I was her,
With the golden brown skin.
I wish I was her,
Because she has him.
I wish I was her,
But I'm not, I'm me.
(March 2009)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Without

By Peter, 17, Stevenage, Hertfordshire, UK

I am a flower without the sun,
The night without the moon,
I am the lion that cannot run,
The asylum without the loon.
And slowly withering to die,
The dawn that is never nigh,
The kings that cannot spy,
The madness that never lies.

I am a cripple without his stick,
Fire without the ice,
I am the candle without it's wick,
I am the vermin without the lice.
Slowly I stumble down,
Till my blazing heart does drown,
I am a burning effigy; clown,
I am the rat king without his gown.

I am a joker without his card,
The mountain without it's rock,
I am the rebel without a placard,
The door where you cannot knock.
I slowly I burn into dust,
I crumble and fall because I must,
The warlord without bloodlust,
And as the gate rust.

I am a boy without a heart,
A person without their love,
I am an artist without art,
A peace without the dove.
And now my life does break,
Lost in the drowning lake,
My art is never fake,
And now calm does never wake.

Heartbroken in this chair,
I wonder if life is fair,
Can I go on and bear,
Or fade and die right here.
(March 2009)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Welcome

By Peter, 17, Stevenage, Hertfordshire, UK

Welcome to a world,
Exactly like ours,
Filled with animals and laughter,
And children and flowers.

Welcome to a world,
With streets of gold,
Where the poor and the homeless,
Are never in the cold.

Welcome to a world,
With hopes and dreams,
Full of ideas, aspirations,
Inventing and schemes.

Welcome to a world,
Of the righteous and the fair,
With charity and kindness,
And evil nowhere.

Welcome to a world,
Exactly like ours.

Welcome to a world,
Almost like ours.

Welcome to a world,
Something like ours.

Welcome to a world,
Nothing like ours.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Poetry

By Gavin, 14, Cottonwood, AZ, USA

I walked on forward,
Yellow leaves dropping at my side,
Birds fly away,
and rabbits run to hide.
Oak bark swirls,
Like the snow falling down,
Twisted, mysterious,
Rough,wet and brown.

An untouched paradise,
No humans no harm,
No hunting, no building,
Not even a farm.

I was the first,
Except those who belonged,
The creatures, the natives,
So weak, yet so strong.

They live here in peace,
In our world they'd perish,
Yet we want to destroy it,
They need this bright terrace!

We need to protect them,
From the worst threat of all,
Yes it is us,
Will we take?
Or can we survive a short fall?
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

The Candle Goes Out

By Rachael, 13, Bishopbriggs, Glasgow, Scotland

And so they were lit; all seven candles gleaming, burning softly in the dim haze of the night. They sat on perfectly even tree stumps; birch if she was not mistaken, which was a rare occurrence in itself. Slim and pale, a young woman with perfect, almost chiselled features and curly dark hair stared unseeingly into the deep woods, her bleeding hand twitching as if swatting away an invisible fly. Shadows turned and twisted, but almost as soon as she realised they were there, they would disappear mockingly into the cold night. There were signs of a fight scattered around the eerie clearing: deep red stains and scraps of clothing were the evidence of the struggle.

The woman was intimidating to say the least, almost sinister looking. With her high collared black coat and ankle length dress, she was both terrible and beautiful. As she stood up slowly, as if testing her weight, the young woman winced as if in agony and drew a rattling breath. But she was far too proud to gasp, or even cry out, to let the creatures know she was suffering. She felt comfortable in the woods, even with a fatal wound, because the modern world feared her. 'Vampire,' they would whisper, which was ludicrous that they should fear the vampire kind when something far worse lurked just beyond their doorstep.

She gently felt around the base of her ribcage and closed her eyes, sharply removing a glinting dagger with a shining red liquid still dripping from it. The woman whispered triumphantly into the night.

'He is dead, Helena. He is dead, and now your turn is drawing near! Come, Helena!'

As if she had suddenly cast magic upon the woods, a whistling breeze whipped up the leaves and her ringlets of hair, exposing her pale neck and the two small, deep wounds blemishing it. Unbelievably, a tall figure with bright green eyes rushed through a gap in the trees and worriedly examined the wounds of the dark haired female without so much as a glance at the clearing around her.

'Oh, Celeste, you have completed your mission. But yet-' The newcomer was silenced by Celeste as she raised a shaking hand.

'There is not much time left. The first of the seven sorrows is gone, never to return, but I will not last long in this place. I will leave soon, but you must take this dagger and continue. If you do not succeed, then Kai's mission will never be started and the chain will be broken. Take the blade, and go.'

The woman sat down heavily on the leafy forest floor.

'Helena, you must. We both knew that I would leave you eventually, so continue. I will meet you again, sister.'

Helena cast a fearful look at the dying woman and, blinking away a tear, disappeared into the night.
Celeste sighed and lay down on the ground, coughing a racking gasp and stared up at the blackness of the night sky. She had finally killed the creature she had sworn to defeat, and had fulfilled her part of the Prophecy.

'Seven candles, seven sorrows, and the seven who are destined to defeat them.One will die in peace and another is successful. Two will never recover, two will never be seen again, And the finest warrior will banish the fears of the world forever.'

Celeste knew that she was the warrior who was supposed to die in peace. She just hoped that her sister, Helena would be the successful fighter who would live on. As Celeste drew her last breath, her lifeless eyes stared up at the Moon and the first candle was blown out by the wind.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

I Sit Within The Meadow

By Jane, 14, Australia

I sit within the meadow and think,
Of people long ago.
Of how the world used to be,
Oh, how I loved it so.

And now those days have gone and passed,
As the threads of time are spun.
These dear memories are all I have,
Until my life is done.

I sit within the meadow and think,
Of how the world might be.
What toys might the children have,
But will I be here to see?

And soon those days will near and come,
As a new world will arise.
And all that may be I will watch,
From my place within the sky.

I sit within the meadow and think,
Will MY time ever come?
They say, only two more days,
And my child-life is gone.

And soon my days will near and go,
From a disease they could not name.
They say I don't understand,
But death is an old friend-I am not afraid.

I sit within the meadow and think,
Of the world that I live now.
The present is the best place to be,
Oh,if only people knew how.

And now these days will never end,
For I finally have control.
The world is wonderful and life is great,
I will never, ever let go.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Amazing Grace

By Chrissy, 15, Australia

The window sits above the bed,
Inviting the living of the dead,
To remember the days of long ago,
The good times of happy, an ongoing flow,
It fills the minds of those who wait,
For Death to come as said their fate.

I cry, I weep, I see,
The Lord above will hear my plea,
I hope, I pray, it is clear,
God will save from what is near.

But tears come down my youthful face,
The cards flip over, there is no ace,
I can't deny it is just what they'd dread,
My soul is dying, the evil has spread,
The cloaks of white are calling it quits,
It leaves this girl in little bits.

I cry, I weep, I see,
The Lord above will hear my plea,
I hope, I pray, it is clear,
God will save from what is near.

"Jesus and Mary," I merely pray,
"Jesus and Mary let me stay,
Can't you save me from this curse?"
Praying for life, it couldn't be worse,
So further and further it goes,
Further and further the evil flows.

I cry, I weep, I see,
The Lord above will hear my plea,
I hope, I pray, it is clear,
God will save from what is near.

The stars are weak, the pain is intense,
The moon won't shine, which makes no sense,
The night was so pretty, a beautiful sight,
Did God make it fall, just to spite?
I thought he would come, did I pray the right lines?
No I must have it right, I must look for signs.

I cry, I weep, I see,
The Lord above will hear my plea,
I hope, I pray, it is clear,
God will save from what is near.

So now the nurse is away,
It seems Death came out to play,
Around my body my sheets are stained red,
I'm so cold, so scared, I sink into bed,
"Take my heart, sign your name,
So people will know your little game."

I cried, I wept, I saw,
The light above nothing but raw,
I had hoped, I had prayed,
How I wish I could have stayed.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Ocean Sea Waves

By Ellie, 13, UK

My feet sink in the sand down under,
The sea's clash is as loud as thunder.
My long hair is blowing as if dancing,
The waves are now leaping as if prancing.
I start to run through the huge waves,
Towards the sun whilst everyone baves.
I go under and hold my nose tight,
Whilst all the fierce waves continue to fight.
I watch the sea glisten prettily at me,
I've never seen such a beautiful looking sea.
Sand then escapes from between my toes,
As water slowly travels up my nose.
I reach for air and feel the heat,
As I kick the water with my feet.
A day like this can't get any better,
A day like this can't get any wetter!
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Kidnapped!

By Lisa, 14, East Kilbride, South Lanarkshire, Scotland

I don't know what to do.

My eyes are closed tight with fear. I daren't open them. I can't, I won't. I'm too afraid. I breathe out in short gasps, sobbing uncontrollably. I hardly ever cry, because I know that crying doesn't solve anything, but I can't help it. It's like I'm stuck in a real life horror movie.

Something rough and hard rubs against my mouth, and I cough and choke, startled. It feels as though someone is shoving dust down my throat. I try to spit the dustiness out, but they put their hands over my trembling lips, making it impossible. It tastes disgusting, and I think I'm going to be sick. I struggle frantically, trying to wriggle my hands free but with no success. My arms and wrists are bound so tightly with wire; it hurts like mad if I attempt to escape. I yelp as a burning pain shoots from my arm straight to my fingertips, and my wrists ache.

Cold sweat drips down my forehead. I'm frightened. I've got to get out of here. But how? Dark images of a few hours ago replay in my mind, as if on constant repeat. It's all I can think about... This is like a never ending nightmare.

My Dad was in jail, spending time for defrauding businesses. It wasn't just him, he was involved with some very dodgy characters. He refused to grass them up to the police, so he was threatened with a longer prison sentence. In the end, he told on the ring leader: manipulative, serial crook, Blake Carson. Carson ended up in the cells for eight years, whereas my Dad served a much shorter sentence of just two. Now Dad's back home, Carson's friends obviously have revenge planned for the person who dared to rat on their boss.

I was on my way home from my after school guitar lessons when two men came out of nowhere and bundled me into the car boot of a rusty blue Ford Focus. I had tried to get a look at the number plate, but they started binding me with wire before I had the chance. I've been kidnapped by convicted criminals.

Simple.

Facts.

How long have I been lying here now? It feels like forever. What if the men abandon the car somewhere deserted, leave me trapped inside here? My head throbs, full of disturbing scenarios. My whole body trembles.

The car swerves sharply to the side, and my chin scrapes against the worn surface of the floor. It hurts like hell, but I'm too tired and worn out to continue crying. Suddenly, the car stops. My pounding heart seems to freeze mid beat. I open my eyes, but all I can see is eternal darkness. I open my mouth to scream, but the hands press down again, only much harder than before; blocking out my petrified cries, suffocating me.

'Get out,' I hear a voice splutter, and I'm yanked out of the car violently.

The world seems to have been drained of it's colour. In every direction I look, everything is black. Just black. I panic at the absence of my sight, shaking like a leaf. I'm too afraid to even cry out.

'Move it!' The voice snarls, and I feel someone's hand on my shoulder as they steer me towards the unknown.

'I've got the stuff, Mac,' says an unfamiliar voice, from somewhere to my right.

'Shuddup, you idiot! She's not supposed to know our names!'

Mac Bennington, of course. I've never seen him before, but I've heard of him, alright. He's one of Carson's closest associates, although he's never actually been caught. My theory was right. Someone shoves me, and I trip and fall onto a cold, hard surface. I feel like kicking them at the injustice of it all.

Wait. I CAN kick - my legs aren't tied together, only my arms and wrists. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. What if?

'Get up, you stupid girl,' Mac spits, nudging me with what presumably is his shoe.

A sudden rage comes over me, and before I know it I'm up on my feet; lashing out, kicking ferociously. Someone grunts in pain, and there is a sharp thud as they fall to the floor, cursing.

I stop, breathing heavily, overwhelmed by my sudden strength.

'That's it,' Mac says icily. 'We were going to send you back alive, but now...' I hear a cruel laugh, and my blood runs cold.

'No!' I shout, and this time there are no hands pressing forcefully against my mouth, drowning the words out. This time, I can speak, 'NO!'

My scream goes on and on and on.

'Bloody hell, Mac!' The other man bellows, trying hard to be heard over my sharp, piercing cries.

'Kill the girl now and let's get out of here! She won't keep her freaking mouth shut.'

'Nobody move!' I hear a yell and my mouth clamps itself closed.

My throat stings, and I slouch over, breathless.

'Drop the gun, NOW! I SAID, nobody move!'

'I'm putting the gun down, man! I have to move! Jeez...'

'Don't speak! Now put your hands in the air, both of you!'

'Hey, Susannah, are you OK?' I hear someone whisper, their cold, minty breath tickling my neck.

They walk behind me, and must see the twisted loops of wire cutting into my arms and wrists. They swear softly under their breath and yell above the noisy kerfuffle.

'Anyone got wire cutters?'

I gasp as something is ripped from across my eyes, and the room floods with colour. I can see!

In front of me stands a young, fair haired policeman, holding a blindfold by his fingertips. He smiles slowly at me, and through his deep blue eyes I see empathy, understanding.

'I'm PC Daly,' he says, and we both turn and look as my two abductors are hauled out of the room, handcuffed.

'Everything's going to be OK. You're safe now,' PC Daly consoles me, as I cry silent tears of happiness, as I sigh shakily in relief.

It's over.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

A Survivor's Tale

By Ben, 17, NY, USA

It was a gloomy day for the crew;
Their faces showed a deadly white hue,
Their bodies were haggard and worn,
And their clothing was tattered and torn.

My ship was in utter decay,
And the food quickly dwindled each day,
But now the fog, an intangible army,
Surrounded the ship for a quick victory.

At heart I knew my men were brave,
And that my ship they'd try to save,
From a downright cruel old Knave,
Who now used his deadliest weapon-the wave!

My own troop fought a good fight,
Though the sea outnumbered them in might,
They struggled to hold the ropes tight,
And searched for any land in sight.

Then, while I was giving commands,
Someone on deck cried, 'Land!'
At that moment it was like an anchor toll,
Had been lifted from every man's soul.

In the next instant the sea took it's chance,
While we were in somewhat of a trance,
And drove the ship straight towards a monstrous rock,
As we quickly braced ourselves for the shock!

Oh, You should have heard that clamorous crash,
As the sea unleashed it's windy whiplash,
And those sailors were swallowed by the sea -
All of them - except for me!
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Uncle Del

By Courtney , 14, NJ, USA

'Race you to the water!'

'No way! The water must be freezing! I cannot believe that you chose to spend your birthday, which is in February, might I add, at the beach! You even dragged every member of our extended family member here with nothing to do. No swimming, surfing, anything while you're at it! The sun is hardly out for us to tan!'

Thirteen-year-old Eden sighed; her older sister, Greenlee, was right on some level. Yes, Eden's thirteenth birthday was in February, and yes, she chose to spend it at the beach. So what if it was too cold to swim or surf? It was her favorite place in the entire world. The salty scent lingering in the air, the scolding gulls flying overhead, the glistening sand that glittered like diamonds in a mine; what was there not to love?

However, Greenlee was incorrect about one thing: not all of their extended family was there to celebrate Eden's special day. One important family member was missing, and his absence ripped a gaping hole in Eden's heart: Greenlee and Eden's uncle Del.

Twenty one year old Del was notorious for his excruciating bad grades in high school (well, in his complete school career, for that matter) and his ability to turn any proper and tranquil tea party at the community retirement home into a rock and roll dance party; his outgoing personality was so contagious, even the senior citizens would get up from their wheelchairs and start to dance!

'Grandma, you really know how to throw a lame party!'

Seventeen year old Del was lounging in the corner of the retirement home's lobby, where his grandmother, Eve, was celebrating her eightieth birthday. She chose a low key event: a tea party at the home with her family and other residents.

Nine year old Eden had to chuckle at her uncle's comment; she did not want to go to Eve's party either, but before they left, her mother, Kerry, had given her and Greenlee a strict lecture about respecting her great grandmother and the other residents. Their views of a good time were not the same as a child's.

'Del!'

Del's mother and Eden's grandmother, Brenda, shot a warning glance at the teenager. Obviously, he had chosen to ignore the lecture.

This did not faze him, however. He stood up and walked over to the center of the room as if he were about to make an inspiring and motivating speech.

'Come on, you guys! Just because you're getting older doesn't mean you're that less cool! In fact, I'll be willing to bet that if we crank up some tunes in here, we can get those feet tapping! Am I right?'

Eden giggled as the elderly people stared at Del blankly. At this point, no one tried to stop him, knowing that if they ignored him, he might just be quiet and return to the corner of the room, not bothering anybody. His triumphant smile fell a little bit, but he was not at all ready to give up.

'Luckily, I brought some backup!'

He grabbed his backpack from the corner of the room and turned it to face everyone, revealing a built in CD player.

'Who wants to hear a little Elvis?' he asked, his grin almost daring.

With the push of the play button, 'Jailhouse Rock' started blasting.

He danced over to Eve, picked her out of the chair, and started dancing her around the room.

'Hey, may I cut in?'

Mr. Farrell, Eve's neighbor, had risen with the help of his cane and offered his hand out to Eve. Within seconds, they were doing unbelievable swing moves for people so old. Best yet, everyone in the room had joined in!

Del stepped back to admire his work, a relaxed smile on his face.

'Gee, Uncle Del, you sure know how to throw a great party!' Eden said, admiringly coming to his side.

'All in a day's work, kid. All in a day's work.'

In short, he can live up any event. Despite their eight year age difference, Eden always referred to him as 'Uncle Del' not only because he was her mother's baby brother, but also because his great advice and shoulder to cry on earned him that title. Although partying was more of his scene, he could easily switch to protective mode if a family member needed assistance with a problem.

'Hey, kiddo, do you want to tell me what's wrong?'

After Eden had rushed out of the living room in tears, Del had followed the ten year old up to her room. Eden and her mother had gotten into another argument, something that they had done a lot these days after Kerry and Eden's father, Jeff, had separated. Jeff had been cheating on Kerry with the twenty six year old neighbor, and all of the stress over the soon to be divorce plus the hurt feelings for her husband had put Kerry on edge, which caused her to lash out at her daughters, especially Eden, a lot. Besides that, the separation had caused Del to have a tendency to want to kill Jeff for hurting his big sister like that.

'What's wrong?'

'Isn't it obvious, Uncle Del? Mom's ruining my life again!'

Del sat down cautiously on Eden's bed, as if she were about to snap like a preying lioness if he made any move to comfort her. When she showed no signs of resentment, he put his arm around his quivering niece and pulled her to him.

'Come on, Eden. Kerry loves you. She's just going through a hard time right now, as are you. Your mom is on your side in all of this. She just doesn't show it because she's sad a lot.'

'That doesn't mean that she has to keep me away from my boyfriend!'

There, she had said it. Now Del would feel bad for her and tell her how terrible his sister was for keeping her away from her true love.

'Boyfriend?'

Though he was trying to help Eden out, Del had to admit to himself that this had taken an amusing turn. Since when had the ten year old got a boyfriend? As he looked into her hazel eyes that were glistening with tears, however, he could tell that she was taking this seriously. Oh, boy; she was at that age when childhood crushes mold into something a little bit more and was realizing that not all boys have 'cooties.'

'So, uh, what's his name?' he asked, treating this like a conversation that he would have with any lovesick girl.

'Raymond; spiky blond hair, sparkling deep blue eyes, fifteen years old, amazing laugh; he's all I've ever wanted in a boy,' she gave a dreamy sigh.

Del tried to stifle a laugh, 'Baby doll, I get that you're going to be a teenager in a few years, and boys mean a little bit more to you, but..'

'Don't you dare tell me that he's too old, and I'm too young,' she pulled away from Del and turned around and crossed her arms defiantly. Right now, looking at him (or anyone) made her furious.

'I'm not, but...'

'I know, you're on Mom's side in all this, aren't you?'

'Maybe I am, but I'm also on your side, Eden. I'm always on your side no matter what, and I know that your mom is too. No matter what she tells you, no matter how tedious you find her rules, she's just doing it because she loves you.'

'If she loves me, why does she always yell at me?'

Del gave his niece a half-smile.

'Because she is worried about the divorce, Eden. She's worried about how you and Greenlee are taking it and she is concerned about your future with divorced parents. Above all, she is struggling with how your dad hurt you all by going after that sly woman.'

This gave Eden a lot to think about; a little too much for her ten year old brain to process. She was not the only one hurt when her dad walked out on her family to be with someone else. He had hurt the woman he claimed he loves, the woman he vowed to be with for the rest of his life.

'I guess this isn't all Mom's fault.'

'Good.'

'But I'm still mad at her!'

Uh-oh; another step backward.

'Listen, hun, you and Greenlee and your mom have to help each other through this as a family. You have been through rough times before as a family. Remember when Grandma Eve died? You all took it hard, but you helped each other through it. You'll do the same here, but it has to be a three person effort. Can you do me a favor? Will you try for your mom?'

'I guess.'

How could Eden possibly say no now?

'Good girl. Come on, give me a hug.'

Though a little standoffish, she let herself embrace Del.

'Hey, that was a good one. Why don't you give your mom one of those world famous hugs? She could really use one right now.'

When he graduated high school three years ago, Del chose not to go on to college and instead join the army, against his parents wishes, and because he was stationed out of the country, he had to miss Eden's birthday.

'Hey what's that?' Greenlee suddenly shouted pointing up to the sky. This had caught the rest of the family's attention as they tried to follow her extended index finger.

'Where?'

'I don't see it?'

'What is it'?'

'Right there!' Greenlee insisted shielding her eyes to get a better view. Eden followed her sister's gaze to discover a red, black, and yellow glider that was coasting over the horizon. Oh, how pretty it was! Del would have loved it; he loved anything that flew from planes to parasails. Eden's stomach formed a knot at that thought. Del had promised her that on her thirteenth birthday he would take her parasailing. At that moment, she could have sworn that the pilot of the glider waved to her. Were her eyes playing tricks on her?

No. It was not coincidental that the glider was soaring over the ocean on this specific day. Eden knew instantaneously who it was. Running as fast as her feet could carry her, she sprinted into the sea to get a clearer sight although the water was stinging her ankles and chafing them beet red. Through the sun's brightening rays, she could just make out a muscular but familiar figure that she could recognize anywhere.

Eden looked back up at the deep blue sky, which seemed to hold so much promise and magic.

'Thank you,' she whispered gratefully.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

You've Heard

By Caitlin, 13, OH, USA

You've all heard the rumors,
You've heard all the tales,
Of the little girl,
With the ponytails.

She went out to the forest,
And she fell down a well,
All alone,
Of her story they tell.

She found a secret tunnel,
All filled with dirt,
She walked and walked,
Sweat drained her blue shirt.

She walked until she found the end,
She saw her father,
Of his life she would depend.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

You and Me

By Nayantara, 14, London, UK

You and me,
We're not going anywhere.
Today, tomorrow, all the same,
You and me just got no game.

No future for us,
We're not going to make it big,
Those cities we wanted to visit,
The dreams we wanted to fulfill.

But alas,
Together our dreams shall not be achieved,
Together there is no hope,
Together our lives will be wasted,
Together our minds will be burnt.

You loved me at one point,
And I loved you.
But as the days pass on by,
Little by little,
Our love seems to die.

Now that is not wrong,
Not something to frown upon,
For one must know when to hold on,
And also know when to let go.

And now I must say,
Goodbye my love,
Cause baby you and me,
Just weren't meant to be.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Dreams Of A Soldier

By Nayantara, 14, London, UK

War

Blinding and deafening,
Screams go unheard,
Coughing and choking,
My dreams are blurred.

War

I thought it would be fun,
I thought it was cool.
I thought it made me a man,
I thought like a fool.

A game of football,
Across the pitch,
We were kicking and laughing,
And then soon, blown to bits.

Bodies on the ground,
Rain pouring down,
Blood everywhere,
But the men go on.

They must,
They have to,
They can't stop now,
Throughout the rain, that's pouring down.

Our lives are gone,
Our souls have left,
But our bodies remain,
A cold December mess.

Blinding and deafening,
Screams not heard,
Coughing and choking,
My dreams now burned.

I was going to get married,
I was going to have a child,
'I was going to live to a hundred,
But then I...died...

And so dead as I am,
A pawn chucked on the floor,
Scattered and crumpled,
My dreams are...no more.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

Fish of the Sea

By Shana, 13, MI, USA

It was a boiling, hot, sunny day at Tampa Beach, Florida. Little kids were playing in the sand, teenagers were hanging out in the water, and adults were soaking up the sun. For some people though, they were nowhere near the beach. Instead, they were out fishing. Poseidon, the sea god, didn't mind that the fishermen came out and killed some of the fish to eat; after all, people needed to live.

'I'll just make more fish,' he'd say to himself.

That's exactly what he did...for now anyway. A couple of days passed by and Poseidon noticed that the fishermen were catching too many fish. Gods were forbidden to talk to mortals so Poseidon sent warnings to the fishermen.

On the first day of his warning Poseidon made the waters rough so that anyone smart wouldn't think twice about going in. However, the fishermen sailed out the next day and again, caught too many fish. This made Poseidon even more furious. He sent his second warning.

Splash! Swoosh! Bam! Crack! A hurricane!

This deadly storm destroyed trees and parts of the nearby houses. Poseidon hoped that his two warnings would get through to the people. When morning rose, the people saw the damage that the hurricane had caused. Every fisherman was devastated because the boats, which were tied to the docks, were practically falling apart.

'After the boats are fixed we should only catch enough fish to feed our families. It seems like the fish of the sea are angry at us,' said one of the oldest fishermen.

All the fishermen stayed out of the water that day to work on the boats; also they thought they'd die if they even dared to go out to sea. There was only one fisherman who had a good boat to use and dared to sail out into the deep blue sea. A man named Larry. Larry was one of those fishermen who wore that yellow rain coat and rain hat even when it was sunny out. To kids he was that man who they thought belonged in a scary movie. Now Larry was either non-caring about what might happen out on the water or he was too dumb to know.

As he approached his fishing spot he got a gut feeling that something was going to go terribly wrong. Larry slowly dropped his net into the nice cool water. Ten minutes passed and he pulled up his net to find that it was overflowing with fish.

'I'm eating good tonight!' Larry chirped, excitedly.

The scary feeling left his gut, but only for a minute. Suddenly, the boat started to shake wildly. Larry was knocked into the sea. The water started swirling around him as he popped his head up for air.

'What's happening?!' asked frightened Larry.

This must have been my gut feeling, thought the fishermen. A tingling sensation flowed through the man's body. In the blink of an eye Larry was sucked under the water. He couldn't feel his hands anymore. There was not a feeling left in his legs. At last he was amazed to find out that he could breathe under water.

'I'm a fish!' he tried to scream, but all that came out were little bubbles along with a gurgling noise.

All of a sudden a loud booming voice said, 'I tried to warn you not to catch too many fish. I sent warnings. The rough waters, the hurricane, you shouldn't have gone out to sea today. Now you get to see how it is to be a fish for the rest of your life.'

To this day forward Larry the fish swims at the bottom of the ocean trying no to get caught by his old friends.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

The Last Innocent

By Yuki, 15, Christchurch, New Zealand

It was the colors that had attracted him to the earth. The vividness and the wild colors that bounded off the bold nature of the earth took his breath away. The air, the wind, the people...it filled him with such wonder and awe. It was such simplicities that humans took for granted which had enthralled him, and he didn't know why no one else saw what he saw.

His first step on earth...He remembered the gravel crunching under his feet, the jagged stones protruding into his bare feet. The harsh wind ripping through his long hair, whipping strands into his eyes. His black wings flapping free, feathers tousling and stroking the alien wind. The air was heavily laden with the scent of salt and life, and it blanketed him like a caressing embrace as it made its way to the other side of the world. The taste...he remembered the taste so well and he longed for it many times after. It was fresh and pure. It was untainted by civilization and pollution, free of poison and hatred. The taste was like a child's soul, unbounded by the daily hustle of life, free from earth's prison.

The tree trunk was the first thing he noticed when he started exploring the wide and curious world. The color caught his eyes and held his marveling gaze. The deep brown swirled within mixtures of shades and flecks of numerous colours, creating a magical effect on the trunk. Tearing bark hung back to reveal pale, vulnerable milky white wood, and beads of weeping sap bubbled from superficial scratches made by possums.

He reached out with his pale white hand to stroke the coarse bark. Yet, he withdrew it, afraid and hesitant. He hadn't known pain then, but the jagged bits of the bark looked strangely harsh and callous. So he just stood there, heart pounding in time with the cries of the birds nesting in it's high branches. Slowly counting.

'One...two...three...four...one...two...three...four...'

'Hey you!'

A sharp, angry voice tore the peace open. He recoiled and hugged himself, trying to block out the intruding sound.

'What the hell are you doing in my backyard?'

He warily turned around on the spot, vaguely noticing the grass tearing from their roots as he did so. It was a female human. He studied her silently with inquisitive eyes as she yelled at him. Her voice was painful to his ears and there was perplexity and shock entwining in and out of her audacious words. She had creamy white skin, like tree flesh, he realized. She was delicate, yet determined in her ways and her jaw clenched in anger as she talked. Her silky hair was the colour of the sun and it flowed like a halo around her head. Her eyes were a bright startling azure. Destitution and pain shone clearly through them. He wished she would stop staring at him like that. It felt as if her eyes were digging into him like blunt knives. The female was wearing a pure white dress, which was flying out behind her in the wind like a pair of newly formed wings.

Beautiful. That's it. She was very, much indeed, beautiful.

'Well? Who are you? And what are you doing here?' The female crossed her slender arms across her chest as she waited for his answer.

He cocked his head. Couldn't she see his wings spread out behind him? Wasn't it obvious? He took a hesitant step forwards towards her, unclasping his arms.

'I am Gabrielle,' he said.

The female raised a fine eyebrow. 'Well, Mr Gabrielle, what are you doing in my backyard?'

Gabrielle looked behind his shoulder at the tree, and the dappled patterns on his skin it made with the sunlight. 'I was looking at your tree.'

The female's mouth dropped open, 'You were looking at my tree?' She gave a sharp bark of laughter, 'Great, now I'm stuck with some loony.'

Gabrielle frowned. He wasn't crazy. He was just curious. And right now, he was curious to why the female couldn't see his wings.

'Can't you see them?' He asked her, silently pleading.

'See what?'

Gabrielle motioned at his wings.

The female raised her eyebrows again, 'Um...what am I meant to be seeing?'

'My...my wings. Can't you see them?'

The female sighed and ran her hands through her hair, 'Okay, look, I have no time to play games. Where do you live?'

'The Morning Star,' he replied.

'Is that the name of your institute then?'

Institute? He couldn't believe this human. She was absolutely clueless. 'No, the Morning Star.'

He pointed to the deep blue dome that stretched out high above them.

'Oh my God, I can't believe this. Right, Mr Gabrielle, you're coming with me and I'll call the police to come and take you home.'

The female walked towards him and he stepped back, suddenly wary. She smiled reassuringly at him, as if he was only a frightened babe, and she softly took his hand in hers. Gabrielle withdrew his hand quickly, confused. Her hand was soft and gentle, and yet, he had felt a buzzing shock when she touched him.

'It's alright. My name is Mary by the way.'

She took his hand into hers again and clasped it firmly. Gabrielle trembled as she pulled him towards the great cream colored house. The feeling was strange. Something he had never felt before. As she led him around the house, he contemplated this foreign feeling. It was as if his stomach was being wrenched in two and a deep stirring churning in his chest. Like frothing acid burning through his heart and seeping into his bloodstreams. It hurt and felt wonderful at the same time. A sort of longing and deep restlessness. All because of one female human. A beautiful and mysterious female human.

They had entered the house through a deep russet door, heavy and aged. Gabrielle let out a gasp as he found himself surrounded by crosses and pictures of Angels and Holy Men. The room he was in was bare except for another stilted door leading out and a desk that was propped upright under a window which overlooked the immense tree and the intense sea. The view was amazing, and so was Mary's clear fascination of God.

Gabrielle felt a warm glow in his chest as he gazed around at the different crosses, all from foreign lands and made of unique material. Mary had let go of his hand and she strode over to the desk which on it, lay a bright rosy red phone. Gabrielle's gaze lingered on her while she picked up the phone and dialed a number, but his curiosity of the crosses overpowered his longing to watch Mary.

Glass crosses, delicately handled over countries and cities, classic wooden crosses, stone crosses, marble, brass, gold, silver, and a cross that was made of an unfamiliar material. Gabrielle leaned in towards it to try identify the peculiar material but Mary's voice cut through his thoughts.

'Mr Gabrielle? The police are on their way, so I beg you to just stay here with me until they arrive.'

Gabrielle felt alarmed and he strode over to her and clasped her hands in his own.

'Thank you...but...I am not crazy,' he said softly.

If the police took him away...Gabrielle trembled. The thought of being trapped inside behind four solid walls made him shudder with alarm and consternation. He couldn't imagine not being able to fly and sail along the cool wind currents at all. More than evil, he dreaded the feeling of being trapped, like a wild animal trapped behind sturdy metal bars.

'Well, do you have a place to stay? And I'm sure you have family missing you, wondering where you are.'

Her words were heavy with doubt and caution. She pulled her hands out of his, biting her bottom lip. Gabrielle's heart beat faster and faster as he pulled back Mary's hand. He felt out of breathe and giddy headed. Was this...love?

He felt something else for her. Along with the love that pumped through his veins persistently. He could see her apparent loneliness and solitude. He wanted to be here, hold her in his arms, and reassure her. Tell her that God had not abandoned her and that he will stay with her.

'May I ask you something?'

A bewildered nod.

'Your...husband, he is...gone?'

Mary's head shot up in surprise and she searched his eyes in dismay, 'How did you know?'

He smiled sadly, 'You are searching for answers, are you not?'

He pointed to all the exotic crosses on the walls surrounded them.

'Yes...I am. But I'm not getting any...and...well, he isn't giving me any signs.'

She sighed and gazed out of the window, memories clouding over her azure eyes as she remembered. Gabrielle clasped her hands tighter and he wanted more than anything to help this human. To soothe her pain and her distress.

'We were just newlyweds. This house...we built it together. I...I don't know how or why it happened, but right before we moved in...' Mary looked down at her feet and he felt her pain as clear as daylight, 'He was diagnosed with leukemia. He...he died the year after.' She looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, 'This year.'

Gabrielle, overcome with love, gathered her shaking form into his arms and held her close. She sobbed into his shoulder, and he murmured reassuringly to her. For a while they stood like that, enfolded within each other's arms, hearts beating close and steadily. Eventually, Mary stepped back out of his arms and gave him a small tentative smile.

'I don't know what I'm doing. I only met you, and...I don't even know you. But...' She gave me a puzzled stare, 'You're warm, Mr. Gabrielle. Very warm.'

He smiled at that. 'Thank you...But, could you please call me Gabrielle? Just Gabrielle?'

Mary gave him a wry smile, 'Alright, Gabrielle. But...it doesn't really suit you...for some reason.'

He felt his heart stop. Did she know? How could she? Possibly? His real name was only known to him and the One who gave it to him. No one, not even his fellow Holy Beings, knew his real name.

'It isn't your name, isn't it?' She smiled at his expression, 'Don't worry, you don't have to tell me.'

Before Gabrielle could say anything else, he heard a car park outside and the slamming of car doors. His breath caught in his throat. He should have gotten away when he had the chance.

'Oh, they are here. Well, I hope they will find your fami-Gabrielle!'

Mary's voice rose to a painful and alarmed pitch as Gabrielle sprinted out of the room. He had to go. This was all a big mistake. He ran over to the big tree, panting and in panic. Should he spread open his wings and fly? Right in front of all these humans? It broke so many promises he had made with Him, but...this was an emergency.

'Gabrielle! Come back! These men only want to help you!'

He could see them now. About five policemen and Mary, gaining onto him. He saw with a sickening realization, that those men actually thought they were dealing with an insane person. They were clasping their guns in their hands. He could also see that Mary wasn't anticipating this and was fearful for him. He felt his heart wrench.

The only way out, was up.

Gabrielle spread out his black seven foot wings against the rising sea wind. Screams and shouts of confusion tore through the air as he flapped them. It was time to go. He flew up into the air and he looked back down to where Mary stood. Realization dawned upon her face and he saw her slap a hand to her mouth. He knew now, why she couldn't see his wings before. It was the fact that she had lost all faith and didn't believe.

'Gabrielle!' He heard her yell. No, it really was time to go.

And then, it was right then when it all went wrong.

Bangs started to crack through the air and his ears burst in agony. As a Holy Being, he was sensitive to a lot of things. Hearing was one of them. He stayed aloft in mid-air as he curled up and clutched his ears. More bangs and he felt scorching lines of bullets whistle past his head. A sudden explosion of agony and white hot pain burst into his right wing. He felt it slide through his fragile wing bones.
Hot, raging agony. Roaring in his ears and deep in his abdomen. He felt his wings fold underneath him. And he fell...fell...fell...

The ground rushed up to greet him. Hands and shouting. Swearing. Gabrielle was pulled up onto his feet by rough, awkward hands and he opened his stinging eyes. He saw Mary, pale and shaking. He saw the sky, innocently blue. And he saw the policemen, talking rapidly into their radios and staring fearfully and disgustedly at him.

They had got him. He had broken his promise. He was surely exiled from the Morning Star. And he shall never get to love anyone. Not even Mary. He would never see her again.Through the thick curtain of pain and distress, and as the police were tentatively dragging him towards the large car, he yelled out one last word to Mary. One word that would stay with her forever.

'Qutaiba!'

He saw her eyes widen in shock.

'Qutaiba! Qutaiba!' he yelled.

The hands tightened and he struggled feebly as they pushed him into the back of the car. Metal seats, harsh and cold to his eyes. And the door slammed shut behind him. He spun around in a wild panic and his breath caught in his throat as he saw metal bars covering the small window in the thick door. He held his hand up to his injury, trying to stem to blood flow, and all the while, desperately trying to breathe in the sea air that trickled in through the window. He strained his neck trying to see Mary, but he could only see the great tree and the sea.

Qutaiba gave up and he slumped back onto the metal seat, sobbing and shaking. How he hated his inquisitive mind! It led him to all sorts of trouble and this may be the last he ever saw the sky. He felt the car jerk into life and the deep guttural rumbling of the engine. He coughed in disgust as the car fumes seeped in through the window and he slid sideways onto the seat so he was lying down. Weak and hopeless. What was to be his fate? What were the humans going to do to him? The car sped up, jolting and shuddering as it drove down the driveway and onto the main road. The policemen were apprehensive about their prisoner and obviously were frightened and shocked.

Throughout the journey, Qutaiba was dim with pain and anguish. His heart was wrenching into two as he thought about Mary, the beautiful human who he had only met and yet fell in love with.

He thought about his home, Morning Star, and how he would never see the golden light that filled the sky or the happiness and peacefulness that nestled deeply into the air. He thought about his fate and how he feared and despised the fact that his future was in the hands of these human beings.

Feelings raged through him, sinking into his veins like poison. He had never felt these feelings before in his life, and now...now he knew. He knew and he detested and was horrified of it. But above all, he was terrified of what he might end up having to do. And he didn't like it at all.

That room. He would never forget that room. White, pure white. But it was an evil room, full of evil intention. It was as if the whiteness was taunting him maliciously. The days went by in a vague impression of white, confusion, helplessness, anguish, and above all, pain. His senses dulled by torture and his eyes blinded by darkness and utter despondency. He wanted out. He wanted out so badly, and he thought about it every minute of every day. It was taking over his life, the thoughts of death. So inviting and so...welcoming.

It was another day. Another blur of pain and screaming. Qutaiba had been led to yet another white room, his obedience the result of weeks of torture and testing. His wings dragged behind him on the ground like neglected pieces of old clothing. Once majestic, now covered in dirt, grime and blood. He couldn't feel them at all. The humans broke them and took away his freedom.

They broke his wings. His key identity. It was as if they had torn open his heart and stolen some part of his life. His soul.

He was led to a chair, was fastened down with metal cuffs and blinded by black material. The cold metal pressed into his skin, raising goose bumps down his arms. He shivered and squirmed in the chair, waiting in the taunting silence...waiting.

And then, he heard it.

The first screams. Tormented, agonized, and horrifying screams. Throat tearing screams that plunged him into a bout of extreme coldness. He shifted in his chair, trying to distract himself from the tortured screaming, but he couldn't help but listen to it, ripping into his ears, making his heart twist and turn. He felt warm blood trickle out of his ears as the screams grew louder. Pleads to God and to Jesus had entwined through the air and Qutaiba started to sob loudly, wanting to block out the terrible sounds. Tears ran down his face as the screams went on and on. Soon, his own screams filled the air as his heart wrenched for the poor soul dying in the other room, and he screamed and screamed and screamed....

'Please! Stop it! Make it stop! Make it stop! Oh God...Please make it stop!'

He was sobbing and moaning, his throat raw and his hands bleeding from trying to free himself.
As the horrible sounds started to die down, he slumped back into the chair, exhausted and heartbroken. Rough hands freed him from his bonds and he pulled off the mask and yet he saw nothing. All was black before his eyes.

Daybreak found Qutaiba on the cold floor, dried blood caking on his pale face. His eyes glazed over with the lack of sleep and the echoes of the screams still loud in his ears. His limbs trembled as he stared sightlessly at the opposite wall. He had had enough. He couldn't take it anymore. If he had to go through anymore of this, he would surely lose all senses and the last shreds of his sanity. This, was to be his revenge. A devil driven cause, yes. But he felt as though he needed to shock these sadistic angst ridden humans into sense. Sense that would most probably save them from themselves.

'This is Doctor Roger Farrington speaking on the thirtieth of January 2008. The subject had handled Test Number 22-24 FQP very badly. His morality is of high standards and his empathetic sense is extremely overpowering. It is definitely not of human essence. I must say, I did admire him for trying to help the 'tortured human', the screams were purely fake and recorded by actors and professionals, and his senses went into overdrive during the test. His ears had started to bleed, a sure sign of ultra-sensitive hearing and his mind was in a state of insanity and, should I dare say, agony. His sight had seemed to have dwindled into pure nothingness during these sessions, which is quite mystifying and our top researchers are currently investigating the cause. I am now looking into the subject's room through the one way glass, and he is sitting up, staring at his hands. He seems to be contemplating something. I...he's saying something. Hold on...there...he is saying the name Mary over and over again. Mary of course the young widow who found the subject. She had rung the police and asked them to pick the subject up, thinking he was insane. She had called into the institute for quite a long while, hoping to see the subject. However, we would not let her see him. It would ruin everything. But...the woman died about two days ago of cancer, leukemia I think. So, it does not matter anymore...Wait. The subject...he is...he is looking at me! Straight at me! I..I think he can see...no...but how? It's impossible! He...he's...talking to me! Wait...'

I stopped the recording and flicked on the microphone.

'What...what is it?' I said, unsure of myself. Was he really staring at me?

'Where...is she?' The subject rasped.

I swallowed. I couldn't bear to look into his dark agony-filled eyes. It was just too...overwhelming.

'I...' I trailed off, not knowing if I wanted to see him in more pain. But he, at least, deserved to know the truth. 'She died. Of leukemia.'

I heard a sharp intake of breath and then he let it out, laughing as he did so. He sat still for a long while, in complete silence. I stood shock still, hardly daring to breathe as I watched him. How could he have seen me? It was like staring through a wall! I felt my heart twist as I saw the subject...no, he was an angel, I was certain of it...I watched as he raised a pale hand and rubbed his eyes. He looked so innocent, and so vulnerable. His long black hair was greasy and lanky, matted down with grime. It stuck to his pale face, like streaks of dark ink. His face...it was very hard to really define what he looked like. But I could see the shadows cast on his face and the blood that was caked over his milky skin. His eyes, so dark and full of despair and pain, and yet...empty and dull. There was this sense of cold calmness about him that unsettled me greatly. I didn't know what it was...but I felt this tugging urgency in my mind. Telling me something important, shouting at me. Yes, there was definitely something wrong with him.

'Subject...Um, Qutaiba, was it?'

The angel lifted his head wearily and gave me a small smile, 'Yes...Qutaiba is my real name...' he said softly.

'Are you...Is something wrong?'

The angel let out a deep breath, 'No...nothing...is wrong.' He glanced up at me and smiled, 'Thank you.'

I looked at him, bewildered.

The angel's eyes lingered on mine and I felt my heart beat faster. Then suddenly, a small sigh escaped his lips and his head dropped forward onto his chest. No breath came out of him. No life stirred in his dull black eyes. And the look of everlasting peacefulness swept across his pale features.

The angel was at peace at last.

The angel's name was Gabrielle Qutaiba. Overcome by his strong sense of curiosity and inquisitiveness, he had been lured to earth. His last act was to give up his own life for someone else.

Someone who he had adored and loved so much. The angel...so pure and selfless until his last darkest hour. Amidst the pain and the agony of evil and hatred, he gave out a small light. A small light which eventually flickered and died. The light which was the last pure light on earth.

The last pure soul...

The last innocent.
(September 2008)

Click here to reply to this or to read other people's feedback on it

or send your own writing

©2003-2011 Kids on the Net and the authors        Last revised 09-Jul-2011
Kids on the Net

Return to Top