Drafts

Useless Umbrellas

Falling down. That's the direction he went. Down, downwards, towards the ground, falling, falling very fast. The same direction as his heart. Sinking, drowning, suffering, all hope dying.

She watched, while he descended. Feeling no remorse for the pain she had inflicted on him. Physical and mental. She screamed as she bloodied him senseless, stained his clothes, sliced his skin, and with it, his heart. Made the heart scream, in agony, in emotion, in conflict, in desire. It held onto the pulses of itself, thump, thump, thump. Fought for the soul of the boy, for survival, because after all, that's what hearts do. Beat to keep us alive. It started to beat quicker and faster, like jogging turning to sprinting.

The heart of the boy would beat till the very end. Until the ground kills it. The ash covered dirt that would smack the life right out of the body. But the feelings and emotions. The despair, sadness, and guilt he felt in his last moments would live on, and forever. The love, the power of love, would haunt the girl for an eternity. You see, she had loved him too, and made the worst decision, very worst, of her years on this Earth.

This was an act of betrayal. Betraying him, and since she had betrayed him she betrayed her ex allies. Those who helped her. Those who assisted her in battle, those who wanted her to stay. More people who had loved her. More people who had confidence in her turn. She had realized who she was. A monster. A true being of the darkness. A destroyer. A warrior. A killer. She was true to her remorseless family. Faithful and loyal to those who had hurt her, tortured her, but gave her power, and strength, and life.

Broken. Broken his bones were, his body, his head to his feet, once they hit the ground of course. Yes, this included his heart. She killed him. Inevitably killed him. Detached the heart and soul, left them to rot. Left them to join his brothers and sisters. He was one with them now. Close to them. His body had been sprawled out, laying in the dirt.

No more battle, no more screaming, hurting, torturing, pain inflicting, demolishing. All over. All except suffering. What was to happen to the loved ones of the dead? Or the ones whom the dead lost to?

They had lost. Clearly. To destroyers. The dead were only defending peace, as any good side would. Good and bad. Always so balanced. Until the many attacks. Until the number of the dead increased. Until the dead pleaded, and begged, and nearly surrendered. Until the bright skies turned to smoke, and the white daisies were splotched with red, and until the sun rose with the tall castles and then fell, with the bricks, as they were smashed. Falling. Falling down, down. Just like the heart and body of the young man.

And now during this time, the present, the balanced scale of good and bad has already been long gone. The weight of white good being lifted to the afterlife of heaven. Heaven, a place for the dead. Good was dead, and what was to remain? The pain, and suffering, and evil of bad. Black badness. Storms of agony shall rain hard onto the living. If only she hadn't betrayed them. Him. Then maybe the rain wouldn't fall. Fall with him. With him, she would not have been rained on. He is her umbrella. She would have a grip on the handle of protection of the evil rain.

This boy, the one that she had so blatantly murdered, was the one hope left for blue skies. But she shredded him, to the bone, to the heart, to the soul. And now, with no more clear skies, I'm afraid that there will be no more umbrellas to shield ourselves from the future.

There were one thousand. And with the ruined boy, the battlefield becomes the graveyard of one thousand and one. One thousand and one useless umbrellas.