Scream

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The train screams as it shoots past; the smoke hangs in the air, left to blind our eyes and clog our lungs so we cough and choke in its wake. Then, as the wind chills us to the bone, we see up a head a cave that could shield is from the wind’s cruel wrath. We make our way up the hill and pause at the top. There is naught to be seen, but if there were, it would be a dull, dark thing, not fit for the eyes of man to rest on. As we stand there, filled with sad, dark thoughts on this sad, dark day, we stop and think: Was it like this in the past? They say ‘No, no it was not. It was not like this at all. Things have changed since then.’


We think back to that day, the day when the sun shone. Back when the wind was not the cruel cold it is now, and when one did not have to run from place to place. Back then, it was not ‘we’ who saw these strange, odd things, but ‘I’. I was full of joy and at ease with the world, and those who lived near would drop by to see how we—I—was, and they were not full of fear as they are now. Why did all this change? No one is sure, but there had been talk of a king who did not like the sun, the warm wind, or the smile filled with joy. They say he had the power to stop even the sun’s rays. This king...he is why I must go away soon.





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