Arthur wasn’t sure how a man like Lovino had ended up in the British army, but he wasn’t going to ask, not when they were knee deep in mud and the other looked like he might break down at any moment.
Someone as beautiful as him shouldn’t hav(more)e ended up in the trenches.
It was a silly thing to focus on, staring at the other with the war going on around them, but what else was he supposed to do? It seemed like all they ever did was sit here and wait to die. He may as well die enjoying the way Lovino would bring a cigarette shakily to his lips. Or watching the way he’d play with a folded ace of hearts, the rest of the deck long since lost.
Lovino was his fresh air, his reminder that beauty still existed in the world, even if it was caked in mud.
He almost forgets to keep breathing when he hears about the bullet that went through his skull, throat clenched when someone hands him the old, folded playing card.
Arthur writes an elegy to him in the mud, the man’s name heavy on his tongue.
those two words spin around and around, taunting every memory, every image of his face that springs to mind. they dance for the eyes, they sing for the ears.
(more) they taste like blood and fear.
it can't be true. it can't be true.
tears are pushed back only by the wall of denial, but they slam against it. they will force their way through, but not without struggle, each crash screaming with the rage of agony boiling inside. their determination will not falter.
faces, colors, words, memories blur together in a kaleidoscope of emotion and pain - raw, chronic pain. a smothering cold consumes coherent thought.
there is nothing stable except for his smile. but that too erodes away.
Twelve years of school, four more to go, and four more after that.
Every single day, I wake and repeat my ritual.
Science, Math, English, Social Studies, History, Government, Economics.
Unusual name that, Marty McDowell, at least around these parts. Thinking about him though, it did not seem out of sorts, given his appearance. I remember him as a slight young man, rounded shoulders, very pale. I think he was anaemic. He wore glasses, too, the kind with large black(more) frames. They never sat on his face properly, always slipping down the ridge of his nose. And his hair, bright orange! He was quiet too, a man of few words. You'd be lucky to get a brief "Hello' if you passed by him in the lunch hall.
I remember his younger sister too, Martha McDowell. A small sick looking girl. Pale, just like her brother. Quiet too, I don't think I ever heard she speak.She always seemed to be in a hurry, eager to get to wherever she was heading. I remember her ponytails bobbing along down the hallway. A flash of red.
It's a shame what happened to them, a real tragedy. (less)
I can't breathe a lot of the time
Whether it be because of love,
Whether it be because of nature,
Or whether it be because life sucks,
I can't seem to get my lungs to work.
This happens pretty often
(more) I can't breathe
So I try to suck in as much air
As I possibly can
And for some reason,
I can't release it.
The air is stuck inside my lungs
And it won't come out
The world keeps moving
People keep going about their lives
Air overfilling my lungs
Until I finally remind myself
To let it go
Jalisa Thomas, a college basketball player for four years, was seriously injured and now in intensive care in a hospital. Surrounded by her family and a team of ER surgeons, her hopes of survival didn't look to good.
(more) The ER surgeons had done all they could to repair the crushed ribcage that punctured both of her lungs. After several hours of intensive surgery, it was deemed a failure--they had only manage to fix one lung.
And now was the moment of truth. A stimulant will be injected into Jalisa's IV to wake her up. This is the first time that her family will know if she'll make it. They knew she'd be okay if she can breathe unsupported on her own when she wakes up.
The Chief doctor inserted a needle containing a thick green fluid into the IV. You could watch it swirl and mix with the saline as it made its way into her body.
Soon, Jalisa stirred. She struggled to move, but found she was bound down to the bed.
The ER Chief saw the signs and spoke to her. "Jalisa. I know you can hear me. You'll be okay. Let me know you can understand by taking a deep breath."
Selina twirled and twirled and twirled, her muscles aching from the strain of keeping her in the same position. She was running away from the thoughts in her head, so she twirled around and around.
Her small dancer's body looked a blur in the mirrors, but she wasn't seeing(more) herself. She was lost in the shadows of her thoughts, because no matter how much she wanted to get away, they were there, chasing her. They filled her with tremendous fear as they nipped at her ankles like yipping lap dogs.(less)
The laughter bubbled up in my chest. There was no stopping it now. One look at the red face of my friend across the table, and I was done for.
(more) "What? No! I didn't mean Underworld!" Manny tried to protest. "In 'It's A Small World' there was a Little Mermaid section, not an Underworld section"
This coaxed new peals of laughter from friends around the table.
"It's s world of death, it's a world of pain," Laura sang breathlessly.
And I went down again, head in my hands. We were gathering stares from other tables, but we couldn't care less.
After a few minutes everyone stopped laughing. Except for me.
"Breath!" They shouted. Which only got me to laugh harder.
Step left. Left jab. Right hook. Step left. Jab, jab. Spots appear in the corners of my peripherals.
"Breathe, boy. You'll never become champ if your blue in the face and knock yourself out 'fore you land any hits."
Exhale. Inhale. The dancing spots fade. Left jab. Forward step.(more) Duck. Exhale. Inhale. Guard. Right.
"There you go! See how much harder you hit? Come on now. Let's go through it again."
Exhale. Inhale. Left jab. Right hook. Step left. Guard. Exhale. Inhale.(less)
I will say that whatever I write is being monitored, but whatever I write doesn't matter that much--really--because this is only a writing exercise and I'm just practicing writing on an educational website. It shouldn't be a big deal. People play games on this computer and go on Facebook(more) and watch online movies. A little innocuous typing couldn't hurt anyone. It's not like I'm espousing any of my opinions or defaming someone. All I'm doing is typing words onto a screen. Yay for me.(less)
I gather courage and say something
I thrown upon rocks
I get up and fight back
(more) I fall down again
I see myself grow old and lonely
I see you prosper
I see death approaching me
And never breathe again (less)
Take a breath as your life is crushed,
By the weight of expectation,
As your sense of self,
Is ripped from your hands,
Taken as a captive of life,
As you feel nothing,
(more) Slowly becoming an empty shell,
In the grip of whispers and ghosts,
Becoming a puppet,
Until over time,
Your strings break,
And you fall,
To the cruel truth of reality,
Finally understanding how the cards have been played,
Only when it is too late for change,
And as you exhale your last,
Do you notice the puppeteer,
Smirking behind a mask.(less)
"Whoa, dude." Lane placed a hand on my chest and gently pushed me back. But I had seen everything. The way my girlfriend caresses the other man's face, his arms encircling her waist, their lips locking as if they were meant for each other.
(more) She hardly kissed me like that.
Lane silently grabbed my shoulders and guides me away from the happy couple. I blindly followed him. All my mind could replay was the scene I had just seen earlier. It wasn't until Lane guided me to a bench did I realize my hands were shaking uncontrollably. I attempted to reach out for my pack of cigarettes, but I could not even grasp it in my palm.
Lane gave me a look of sympathy as he bent down and picked up my pack for me and shook a cigarette out. "Are you okay, bro? ... Well, clearly you're not." He mumbled awkwardly and sighed. "Look, I know you're not going to listen to me until you see it for yourself. But now I think it was a bad idea."
My whole body was trembling with fury. I wanted to pummel that guy's face so bad my fists were aching. I wanted to grab her shoulders and scream WHY. I wanted to do so much of things to them, but I'm paralyzed.
"... gotta calm down, dude. Listen to me. Breathe in slowly, and exhale. Inhale, exhale..."
I closed my eyes, blocking out the memory as I listened to Lane's soothing words. Slowly, I could feel the shaking stop. But what remained was my fury towards them.(less)
The gun is steady, leveled at his surprised expression. No time to change it, to go out with dignity, to wonder why. No time but all the time in the world. Breathe in, prepare for the moment. The gun is steady but the heart is shaking. Remember his face now, paint a pi(more)cture later. Now is the time. There is no turning back, no regrets. Nothing to do but let go. Pull back and let go. Let it out. Its not a flash but a drag. And exhale. My breathe turns to mist in the cold air.(less)