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Fate. Part 1
I didn't want to see that face again.
Oh god.... Please....
"Miku!" Luka shouted.
"What is it, Manager Luka?" I said, smiling.
"Please, call me Luka." She said.
"Okay. What is it, Luka?" I asked.
"Rin is on coma." She said, with no expression.
"Wha....." I said, blankly.
"Len is on funeral of your creator." She said.
I dropped down.
"Please.... cancel all of my routine of singing.." I said. Tears falling down.
I walked in the room.
Rin is there, no consciousness, and falling to the pit of the doom.
"Rin....." I said.
She didn't answer.
"Can you hear me?" I asked.
Still no answer.
"God, please, I beg you, don't make Rin disappear! I already lost my creator!" I screamed.
"M.... mi.. k... ku...." A soft, gentle voice is heard in my ears.
"R... Rin....." I stared at her.
"I... I'll be f..fine.... Don't.. y..you... worry... 'bout me..." She smiled.
How can I think clearly if my sister is on the hospital and my creator has died?
No sense at all.
"Urgh...." She sai
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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