Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Yours (9/23/14)

My MMC for this week; I hope you enjoy reading it and maybe even comment with some critiques or ideas. :)
Some people have it so bad, all they can do is run. Run away and never look back.
via Pinterest


 Slipping to the ground, I buried my face in hands. Has it always been this way? Have you always looked after me, helped me, loved me? My thoughts tumble around my mind like the fallen leaves swirling in the wind; my scarred hands slowly slide from my face into my wet, tangled hair. I dig my bleeding fingers into it and knot it round my hands.
He did it... for me? Why would anyone care for me enough? Love me enough?
I thought I was alone, but he had always been there. He had never left. And now when I finally realized his presence, he was gone.
Dress soaked, feet cut wide open from running for so long, tears streaming down my face, I probably looked ridiculous. But I didn't care. In fact, I didn't think I would care about anything again.
I pressed my fingers against my temples, trying to keep the memories at bay. Every detail flashed before my eyes: he was standing in the middle of the arena, his hands his only weapon. His strong, capable, work-roughened hands; who would believe there to be such gentleness in such strength?
I was one of the many people shouting for his death. Chanting with the thousands of people, I stopped abruptly when he looked at me. He didn't just look straight at me, he looked straight through me. His eyes weren't full of rage and hate, as I expected. It was something I hadn't felt since Mother died.
Love. He loved me, and every other person who was waiting expectantly for him to die.
“Number 27!” cried the announcer, shooting his miniature slingshot at the over-sized gong.
“No! Wait!” my shrieks were drowned out by the chanting mob.
He died… for me…
Could I ever feel again?





10 comments:

  1. Good job Elisabeth, I love it!!!!!!

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    1. Thank you, Jane! I put more thought then usual into it, and I hope it shows some. :)

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  2. *silence*
    I am about to cry...
    *caught up in the moment*

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  3. Oh. My. Word. This is tense and so beautiful. Wonderful job. *standing ovation*

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  4. Great job, Elisabeth! Love the descriptions. :)

    HP

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