Promises Are Made To Be Broken
Promises Are Made To Be Broken.
Trembling, I huddled beneath an aging birch tree as it sheltered me from the coming storm. My short, faded blonde hair hung limply, shadowing my porcelain features from the rest of the world. Behind me towered a decrepit church, crimson drenched in the sunset and surrounded by over-grown gardens where plants were definitely a minority. The rickety walls of the church cast eerie violet shadows upon the surrounding deteriorated tombstones, of those that had walked this earth before us.
From within the decaying church came the occasional peal of laughter, and the sound of shuffling feet dancing along to ornate music played by a local string quartet. From the dirt roads far from the crumbling church came the trotting of horses hooves and the gentle rumbling of wagon wheels. The quaint little village seemed vibrant and bursting with life, like a babe newly born.
With my eyes shut I could hear the welcoming gurgle of the stream as it slowly travelled on its way to the sea. If I inhaled hard enough, I could faintly smell the scent of the nearby seashore; could smell the pungent odour of rotting fish carcasses, carpeting the golden, sandy beach surrounding the immense placid blue waters, and could softly taste a bland, briny breeze wafting inland from the ocean.
Gazing at the headstone ahead of me and the fresh knoll of dirt covering an already rotting putrid corpse. My heart began hammering rapidly against my breastbone, but I knew it would soon shatter when the realisation that he would never again brighten my day with his unique smile, and eyes that could calm my every nerve. His mere presence seemed to make life worth living after being holed up in a dusty class room being taunted and teased for my rebellious nature. He had promised me that he would never leave.
The sky above me filled swiftly with dense murky clouds that were snarling like a pride of violent lions, just waiting to drench their prey. Overcome with heartache and pain, I made no attempt to seek shelter from the coming storm.
As the suns curfew approached, the clouds parted and cool water cascaded from the heavens above. My dark, ragged dress, sodden and soaking, clung to my shivering form like a second skin. It was then, and only then, that I let a single tear slide perfectly down my pale face.
As I let that single tear fall, I could swear I hear his voice behind me, silky and consoling, talking just how he used to after the endless days of the torment caused by those people they called my peers. But as I turned, I saw nothing but the church.
I had promised myself that another tear would not fall, but promises are made to be broken.
Comments???
This came to me when I was listening to "Anthem Of Our Dying Day" by Story Of The Year.
(awesome song. listen to it)
Much Love,
AnnieXX
From within the decaying church came the occasional peal of laughter, and the sound of shuffling feet dancing along to ornate music played by a local string quartet. From the dirt roads far from the crumbling church came the trotting of horses hooves and the gentle rumbling of wagon wheels. The quaint little village seemed vibrant and bursting with life, like a babe newly born.
With my eyes shut I could hear the welcoming gurgle of the stream as it slowly travelled on its way to the sea. If I inhaled hard enough, I could faintly smell the scent of the nearby seashore; could smell the pungent odour of rotting fish carcasses, carpeting the golden, sandy beach surrounding the immense placid blue waters, and could softly taste a bland, briny breeze wafting inland from the ocean.
Gazing at the headstone ahead of me and the fresh knoll of dirt covering an already rotting putrid corpse. My heart began hammering rapidly against my breastbone, but I knew it would soon shatter when the realisation that he would never again brighten my day with his unique smile, and eyes that could calm my every nerve. His mere presence seemed to make life worth living after being holed up in a dusty class room being taunted and teased for my rebellious nature. He had promised me that he would never leave.
The sky above me filled swiftly with dense murky clouds that were snarling like a pride of violent lions, just waiting to drench their prey. Overcome with heartache and pain, I made no attempt to seek shelter from the coming storm.
As the suns curfew approached, the clouds parted and cool water cascaded from the heavens above. My dark, ragged dress, sodden and soaking, clung to my shivering form like a second skin. It was then, and only then, that I let a single tear slide perfectly down my pale face.
As I let that single tear fall, I could swear I hear his voice behind me, silky and consoling, talking just how he used to after the endless days of the torment caused by those people they called my peers. But as I turned, I saw nothing but the church.
I had promised myself that another tear would not fall, but promises are made to be broken.
Comments???
This came to me when I was listening to "Anthem Of Our Dying Day" by Story Of The Year.
(awesome song. listen to it)
Much Love,
AnnieXX