When your world crumbles...who will save you? (Wil Francis FF GreenDay FF)

Chapter One The World Stopper

-Wil Francis-

My breath is frosted in the cold December air, pale and white against the black void of midnight. I couldn't sleep, woke by a dream I couldn't seem to quite repair in my mind.

Leaning my forehead against the cool exterior of the sliding door that leads into a bleak living room, I close my eyes. Maybe It was the way the rain hit her hair, and Oh Lord, I can still remember what she wore. The very shade of black that my soul manifests.

Those long nights we'd walk together , and arrive to no where.Pain, that is the damage that has been made. The hurt that I have caused that can never be erased.

Lighting a cigarette, I push away from the the glass. Tonight, I will walk alone, no where an unwelcoming, daunting place.

This disillusion comforts me now, as night swallows my body and turns my bones to shadows of their formal selves. Here is when I am able to think of the time we had laid her soul to rest. When we had finally parted ways silently with no goodbyes offered or taken.And although I will not label death as my only defense, I will never trust again. My place has been branded as though the very Devil himself has placed his palm upon my chest.

I await for her sometimes, but even as I do, it is although life itself flashes by too fast in front of my very eyes. We now are never to have a second chance, never to share breaths in small spaces. But yet the shadowy sliver of hope remains, making me remember times when so much love and hate created something much more then the haste I feel. It made me push harder, struggling with the remnants of the fact that she, not I, was to leave this place. Never again to climb grace from cold hands and dead eyes. Never to walk the night alone, nor drown in self misery. And yet I await her still, never again to love. Condemned to myself, and the beast I have become.

-Evelyn Armstrong-

I watch him go like a slim, pale trick of the light that one might conjure up late at night after a nightmare. Not at all very tall, perhaps just slightly taller then myself. Clad all in black as though the very of color, even in the slightest might carry him away to nonexistence. Closed in and lost in a soliloquy, or perhaps a seance with himself, he goes. Arms hugged around his middle, and hair blacker then a raven's beak.

Perhaps it's mere curiosity that holds me there,even as all the air is wrenched from my lungs, and although I don't mean to stare I cannot seem to bring myself to look away.

A cold nameless familiarity fills me, probing for a name I do not know.

A flash of color, of the lightest brown, his eyes.

The show stoppers.

-Wil Francis-

She stands there, paralyzed by what? I do not know. As though by some instinct I pause in my steps, and stare back.