Lonely Love

He waited for her. He sat quietly, all alone, and waited; and waited, and waited. She never came. Eventually, sad and dejected he left. He was never seen again. Some say he left and died alone of a broken heart. Others say he left and found love again in a distant, distant land. No one knows for sure. They only know that a love that had held so much promise withered and died like a rose in winter.

So Close to Consciousness

She came to consciousness slowly. She didn't bother to open her eyes at first. She simply lay there, listening to beeps and humming. Beyond those, she was only aware of the fact she was breathing and in pain. There was a dull ache in her lower left arm; and a sharper, more widespread, pain on the right side of her torso. Her head, although not pounding, throbbed slightly. She felt stiff and heavy. She decided to open her eyes, but was only rewarded with a blinding light that caused her to scrunch them closed. Against her better judgment, she tried to sit up. The movement caused her side to flare in pain and her head began to pound. The unconsciousness she had slipped away from moments before grabbed onto her like a parent finding a runaway child. She tried to fight it, to cling to her hard won awareness, but the darkness won. She once again slipped into its numbing hold.

The Hidden Cave

a cave up ahead, but all he saw was a rock wall. He checked his compass and and did a mental walk through of his trek thus far. He hadn't taken a wrong turn. Great. The cave had to be here. He couldn't go back home empty handed. It had been a uphill battle just to get the funds and permits to go on this trip. So many people had tried to stop or discourage him from going. He had to come back with something. He  sat down on a nearby boulder and pulled out the worn journal that paired with the map. As he read, the sun shifted the shadows. He looked at the rock wall and noticed a shadow that shouldn't have been there. He walked over to the wall and took a closer look at the shadow and a moment later let out a shout of relief and excitement. The cave was hidden behind a boulder that blended in seamlessly with the wall behind it, unless viewed from the right angle or the right time of day.

The Infiltration

He stared at the 3-D display before him. The subtlest path to the tower was highlighted for him. As he stared at the path he ran through scenarios that could arise. He also contemplated, briefly, bringing someone else in. No, it would be best if he did this alone. Infiltrating the citadel alone would be hard, but not impossible. Adding another person would add more opportunities for things to go wrong. Most importantly, it would open him up to betrayal; something he had experienced before and never wanted to experience again. Ever.

He sighed and leaned a little more on his hands. On the other hand, having another person could speed things up. The timing had to be perfect. The High Protector would only be gone from the tower for an hour at most, and he had to be in and out of the citadel before then. If the journey to the tower was off by even a minute, he would be captured and killed. The Protector had an uncanny ability of knowing everything that was going on in the citadel while he was in it.

This was not going to be easy, but it had to be done. The outcome would be worth it. Well, it would be if he was successful.

A "Guardian Angel"

I take a deep breath as the figure exits the building. They are so beautiful. The way they walk, the way the dress- absolutely exquisite. I follow them, discretely of course (they can't know about me just yet, the time is not right) as they walk. I know where they are going but I still follow behind anyway. I pretend that we are walking together. Their phone rings and they answer it. I feel a stab of jealousy. They should be talking to me. Their intoxicating voice should be echoing through my ears, not the ears of someone else who does not appreciate and love them the way I do. They laugh, a heavenly sound, and the jealousy renews. They should be laughing at my jokes. I follow them until they return home, watching and absorbing their every move. The jealousy still smolders. It has been long enough. Tonight, I will make myself known. I will let them know that they have a "guardian angel" that loves them and is watching over them.

To be Herself

She lay back on the stone railing and closed her eyes. The stone wasn't particularly comfortable, but it was better than being cooped up in the house. She listened to the soft gurgling of the stream that ran underneath the bridge. It was so peaceful here. The stone was cool beneath her skin. She knew she should be inside, learning French or practicing her embroidery; but she was tired of of all. She was tired of all the pressure of being a "lady." She wanted to learn fencing and marksmanship her brothers, not hosting and dancing. She longed to be free to be herself and do the things she liked to do instead of fulfilling what others expected of her.

Pain and Memory

Mr. Grey had told her that she had been unconscious for three days, and missing for two weeks before that. She had simply disappeared one night after stating that she was going to her dorm's gym. Two weeks later, her friend, Pasha had found her lying in the floor if the entry way. She was dressed, although not in the clothes she had left in, but her feat were bare and bloody. She had no memory of how she had gotten there or where she had been for those two weeks. Every time she tried to remember what happened, s searing pain shot through her head. If she tried to press on through, the pain and pressure only got worse. The doctors said it was probably due to the fact that she had sustained two concussions. She also had three broken ribs, two cracked ribs, busted knuckles, lacerations on her face and arms, and the bottoms of her feet had been scraped raw. They said that, from appearances, she had at some point gotten into a fight barefoot on rough terrain. They said that the broken bones and cuts would heal, but they could not tell her for sure whether her memory would return.

It's Not the End

He closed his eyes and lay still.

The fight had lasted two, maybe three minutes, but it had seemed to go on forever. Guns were fired, knives had been drawn, and punches were thrown. There were many times that he thought the fight would end then and there, only for it to be drawn out. Eventually, however, it was over. He didn't swagger away like the guys in the movies. He was on the ground, gasping for breath, every inch in pain. After a moment, he took a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it out. Then, groaning, he staggered to his feet and walked away. Fighting six (or was it seven?) guys was exhausting.

The Abondoned Clock

She stared at the remains of the old clock. It had once been a grand and beautiful thing. It's windows had been stained glass and iron.  The building was so tall and the face was so large you could see it clearly from any where in the city. At one time, it chimed out the hours in pleasing rings and peals. Now it sat silent. many of the windows had cracked and broken during the bombings. One of the clock hands had fallen off and had probably been sold as scrap. Many of the chimes and bells had gone missing, the ones that weren't too large for one or two to carry. Thankfully, the stairs that wound their way to the top had been made of metal. If they had been wood, they would have rotted and collapsed long ago. To most people, the prospect of living in an abandoned clock building was creepy and unsettling, so much silence where there should be noise. To her, even with the broken windows and dusty floors, it was home.

The Message Van

He stared at the writing on the vehicle's roof. The van had sat abandoned in the woods all summer. No one knew where it had come from, it had just appeared. It would probably be towed soon. It was nicknamed the "Message Van". Sometime during those warm months, someone had gotten the "brilliant" idea of writing messages all over the roof, which was now covered in them. Most of it was cutesy stuff- "so-and-so loves so-and-so",  "so-and-so was here". There were also hearts, stars, and other various doodles. Some were dark and hateful. There were also a good amount phone numbers with the words, "call me" written beside them. Some had names, some didn't. He looked at his watch, he'd been reading the markings for almost an hour. It was time to leave. He picked up a marker, there were plenty scattered on the floor. He found an empty spot and wrote, "...but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep..." He then capped the marker and crawled out of the van.

The Dragon

 He stared at the dragon crouching before him. He should not have gone out on his own. No one would know what had happened to him. His mother would spend the rest of her days expecting him to come home, like she did for his father. He couldn't climb the rocks, they were too step and smooth. Besides, dragons could fly. He would just be making himself an easier target. He couldn't dash to the side and try to run around either. The dragon's reptilian eyes tracked his every movement and it moved it's body to block his every time he tried. There wasn't anything to do but fight and hope for a miracle.