Victory-Peaches

        You pull up your stockings and push your feet into your shoes, dressing for school, while sitting on the edge of your bed. You can’t stay at home for another day. You know that there isn’t much time left and, regardless of what everyone says, you have to see the world one final time. You pick up your backpack and open your bedroom door. The house is still, telling you that your parents are asleep. You tip toe down the stairs and to the front door, where you hesitate for a moment. “I can’t just leave them…” You turn around, deciding to tell them that you’re off for school when you see your

The evening was quiet. Francis heaved a deep sigh of impatience, moving both hands against one another in a vain effort to drive back the cold of winter. Every warm breath escaped his lips as a cloud of drifting, fading smoke, soft against the black sheet of the sky, obscuring his vision. He visibly flinched with every stifled crunch his shoes would create in the hardened, frozen ground, and at every snap of a twig beneath his weight as he continued almost wading his way through the depths of the freshly fallen snow, picking his feet over the mounds and observing them vaguely. He despised bitter nights like this with no mistake; even the gen

Some Spain because I can. --- Dear ______, Do you like me? ☐ Yes ☐ No - The small piece of paper was torn from a notebook. It was obvious by the way it was random scribbled on without the delicate, artistic appearance it could give off. Why would appearance matter to you? It had more words than the simplest ones were scribed. You wandered over to the older man who laid peacefully against the edge of his pillow. He murmured gibberish and he turned to his side, his brown brows knitted in a serious dream. His body looked so peaceful and angelic you decided to sit on the stool and watch the stranger sleep peacefully. Again, a

     You're hands fly over the metal, removing each piece with confidence and speed. The rifle is finally sitting on the ground before you, each piece lain out in an expert diagram. Again.      You run your hands over your pants, examining your work as you chew on your lower lip. Your heart is pounding despite yourself, fingers closing into fists only to release themselves and stretch wide. Picking up the barrel of the rifle, you look down it, studying its insides for residue, though you already know it's spotless. Grabbing another piece, you begin to reassemble the weapon once more.  

This is for Fungoneviral. If you are reading this, I really hope you like it! And I really hope I did it right. I apologize in advanced if It sucks. :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: You were Blind. You knew that. When it first happened, you cried. You were scared because this had never happened before, you were scared because you didn't know what was going to happen, you were scared because you felt helpless, useless, weak… You never were a strong country to begin with. Your nation was peaceful, calm and laid-back, but even so, when you became blind you felt so…Powerl