THE ETERNAL FIRE

This is a story about two people. About the victim and the bully. About pain and happiness, joy and sadness. Can all that is forgiven be forgotten? Does age justify the act? If a child murders someone, will he be forgiven because he is a child? If the victim is a child, will he forget when he grows up? Is there an excuse for peer violence? Does a child have the right to hurt another child? Is a bully even a child? Is that soulless human even a person?

Her tears fell like raindrops, endlessly. They fell on the sheet of paper and mixed with the thick ink. Her tears were heavy, and her painful words even heavier. She was writing illegibly, because her palm was trembling. From time to time, she would let out a cry, like begging for help. She wrote verses, and those verses were hurting her soul. That white paper doesn't have a heart, and it's better that it doesn't, because if it had, it would have been broken by now. And wasn't it? In the parts where the dark ink was diluted with tears, there the pen penetrated through the sheet of paper. He also mourned for Alina. And she, like a burned candle, cried for others. And it was more than clear to her that she was neither the first nor the last. She wept for the innocent victims of the eternal fire.