One The Way Down

It was all fuzzy at first, and then things began to give way, and they began to clear a path for me. It seemed like glasses were the only way for me to survive, but then, things began to change. Life as we know it beckoned to be set free by the grasps of darkness, the hands of humanity. Voices echoed inside my head, voices of those young and old, voices of those who had yet to be heard. Fuzziness was all around me, in my mind, outside, inside, up, and down. It seemed like no one could escape it unless things slowed down. Worries surrounded me, kids stressed out over what would become, what had become, and what no one understood.

Those young and old saw the planes and thought of the past. The wars between two different places, with two different meanings, and between two different dimensions. Those planes ripped through the skies, though the purplish clouds, and through the wind that smelt like victory and death. Noise rushed through the ears, sheiks ran from the voices of innocents, and terror pounded down on everyone's lives. Red spillage marked the beginning of a new life in the new world. Red blurs are seen in the distance. What could it be? Leaves? Sun rise? Sun set? Love? No, none of these could be used, because on the day of no return, blood was spilt, and flames grew into the sky as if it were to change its color from blue to black.

Sounds were very distant on the ride to hell. Not one person talked about what would be done. Everyone looked as if they were on the way to death row. Whispers surrounded me, pain began to fill my head, and eyes began to wander. Pale hands to my head, not one person was left to look out the window of shame. Not one person dared to help for fear of death. Pain began to become unbearable. Barking dogs sounded like whines for help. Wind chimes became a bell that signaled the end of the line. Pain was something no one wants, something no one can get, something only those who can feel the cool wind press against the nuked skin as if the wind wanted to become one with it, to try to feel the river of adrenaline that rushes through the veins of sinners. I am faced with the Angel of Death. The light from where she stood blinded me from my day dreams, and made me forces on what was important. The Angel of Death somehow was also the Angel of Life. How could this be true? She looked so unearthly, so unnaturally, and so undesirable.