fireynight

                                               Prologue Silence. No sound echoed through the dull grey halls of the concentration camp that was usually vibrating with screams and cries of those in agony. Everyone was in mourning. Jews, politicians and enemies of the Nazis alike joined together in grief for the girl that had spread hope and happiness like a disease. Elizabeth Smith. How would I ever forget that name? How would I ever forget that beauty, that happy-go-lucky personality? I wish I could take it all back, save the girl I had condemned. But that could never happen.                                          Chapter 1 ~ The Camp

The sky was grey. It swept over the whole town like a shadow of emotion. It was surprising how the type of weather could change and manipulate so many people's feelings. It didn't suppress the enteral sunshine in some though. In this case, of course, I would be talking about Kenny. It didn't matter what the weather was like, Kenny always had a smile on his face and an exuberant personality. When I asked him about it, he just said 'Might as well enjoy my time up here, you know, while I am…'. Yes, I did know. Kenny had decided around seventh grade that the time he spent between dying should be spent making the most of it. He still live

'No! Come back!' I watched in mild interest as a purple balloon floated up into the sky. It rose above the stalls of the fairground and drifted into a nearby tree. I looked around, expecting to see a small girl crying her eyes out at the loss of her vibrant souvenir. Instead I was greeted with the tearful face of Butters Stotch, another boy in my year at South Park High. My stomach twisted and I found myself approaching the smaller blonde from across the pathway. 'Hey, was that your balloon?' He tilted his head up and made to wipe the tears away. 'Yeah. I spent five bucks on it.' 'Whoa, rip off dude.' 'I know, but it was so pret

I held you in my arms as you bled. The crimson red stained your shirt and spread slowly over your body. You seemed so small and fragile. A shockwave travelled through my body when it hit you. You didn't expect it. I didn't expect it. It just happened. We were arguing, I hate that. But even when you're angry you're beautiful. I wish we were still arguing now. I can't change anything though. If only we could go back to when you were happier, when I was happier. Maybe then I could change it so that I was enough for you. They always tried to sway me. To take me away from you. 'He's a player.' They said. 'He'll just end up hurting you.'

A few regarding your physical being: Your eyes, clothes and aura. The colour of your paranoia. Some concerning your favourite things: The smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of leaves under our feet, the sight of the long awaited Harbucks logo. The cause of your condition. Why does one colour provoke so many different responses in different people? You would have said it was a plot. I would have laughed… …Not anymore. In this place all there is is White. The sheets you lie between. The walls and floors. Death. Most say Death is black, but we know better. Now I'm not so sure. I can feel it pressing in on

"3… 2… 1… Happy New Year!" We yelled at no-one in particular. It was finally 2010 and I was celebrating in my best-friend's room. "Wooo! Yet another year has gone by… Let the new year of terror begin!" I smiled at my best-friend, laughing along with him as he plotted evil schemes of new proportions. "Hey Darren," I said, breaking off his malicious laughter. "How long have we known each other now?" I mentally tried counting back but in less than a few seconds he had beaten me to it. "10 years, 4 months, 13 days, 10 hours, 7 minutes and 29 seconds." He looked at his watch. "30 secs… 31… 32… 33…" "I get t

Darren Shan, the enemy. How would I have known I was to die by his hands? I deserved it though. How could I have used Annie and Darius that way? I didn't know that I was doing wrong. To me, it was right. I drift along, as lonely as a clud, with the spirits of other damned people along side me. We can't talk. For each and every one of us is doomed to an eternity of reflection. Looking upon our past and seeing what we have done wrong. Most of these people have less to reflect on, I having probably the most. Not just wrong though. Pure evil. My mind had slowly become twisted in hate, revenge and lack of love. My mother never paid any attention t