"From the ashes, we shall rise"
WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT , VIEWERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED
The second book of the tainted series, it can NOT be read as a stand-alone.
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There used to be a very unique quote in a vintage Shakespeare novel, when he would talk about old folktales. Many stories regarding the ancient renaissance, how life was completely different back in his time. Although most people seemed to believe his stories were made up, others thought it were plagiarize work. Then you had those selective few in the universe, ones like me who thought it was based on his surroundings.
Many articles explained how William used to people watch all the time, sitting down on an old tarnished balcony. Awaiting for his next story to appear on the streets of Stratford, then using his imagination to create what he thought happened in their lives.
But nonetheless - he created beautiful work, creating legendary masterpieces that impacted our modern world, today. A few of his written thoughts, becoming an important part of history. I couldn't think of the words clearly, since it's been a very long time since I picked up a book. But the modern version basically summed up what I felt at the moment.
The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Some people would look at that quote, and think it had nothing to do with the factors of life. Yet, all I could think about was how much suffering people had to deal with on a daily basis. An infamous pastor once said that in that time, a giant was considered to being a difficult situation. Most likely a sacrifice that needs to be made in order to defeat it, thy must be done in order to get past.
He also spoke about how god would take your greatest joy, so it could be used in the middle of the battle. And that's what I think Shakespeare meant, when a giant dies - it takes something along with it. And somehow lose a sense of reality. If only it wasn't the one thing we had been searching for; The smell of rain drifted among the earth, lingering in the atmosphere while a group of men walked ahead of us. A sigh leaving my cracked lips, once the soft most grass met the sole of my shoes.
Everyone was silent as we finally reached our destination, my eyes searching among the crowd before landing on the back of his head. I badly wanted to leave this spot, to go console the man that needed me. But with sunken pride and disoriented thoughts, I vowed to keep to myself. Taylor sniffled next to me, as she used the pack of tissues to wipe at her damp face. No one really talked at all, besides the unobtrusive murmur of people talking to Zayn. And he still didn't say anything, just sitting there with the same look on his face - the one people feared. But in times like this everyone sucked it up, having the courage to get closer to speak with him. A bunch of 'I'm so sorry' and 'please, call if you need anything' meanwhile , everyone knew they secretly hoped Zayn wouldn't even have their number.
I went through all of this a few years ago, now here I am once again. Living the same nightmare that won't leave my brain, almost like it's haunting me.
"Heavenly Father..." The priest says loudly but sympathetically, while looking down at his tiny bible.
My mind drowns out his words, keeping focus on the casket placed tall and high on the lift above the burial plot. The entire thing shining brightly under the sun, gleaming on the Mahogany wood. A deep brown color with gold detailing on the sides, it was a royalty unit.
