The door never stopped, it kept on swinging as if someone was constantly pushing it, so it would not stop. One by one the weaklings came trough the door. And just when you thought that was it, there were more to come. It was like feeding a nation of ants.

The Cold Sung a Song

Weather was getting unbearable. Winter was just about to approach just like grim reaper had approached poor kids that sadly died of cancer every year. This year strong Frank wasn't going to survive. All he wanted for Christmas was to spend it with his family. And in a way he did, but not the way he expected to.

It's late November now, Frank is busy with school work. He also finds the time to go out and play the ball with his good pals James and Chris. They knew each other from as far as they can remember themselves. The fact was that almost everyone knew everyone in  this small town. There was no event that happened without the entire town knowing it. When the football enthusiast Frank was told that he has terminal cancer. Franks parents until this day can't live with the thought that their only child was diagnosed with cancer. They went to see the doctor thinking it was just a common flue. Frank had felt fatigue way too often, it seemed odd to the parents. His temperature would often spike to incomprehensible numbers. Frank did not feel like himself, and couldn't even be bothered to go play football with his friends. The town doctor, Mr. Reed, was a well educated man, well in his fifties. It was hard for him to announce to the family what was happening to Frank. Nobody can imagine how it is to bring these news, there is no right way. What do you say?? "I have only bad news for you." Terrifying. Frank was treated on a regular bases, but the chances of him surviving this were one in a thousand. But neither he, not his parents were willing to give up this tiny hope. What seemed to be odd was that no one knew earlier that Franks had been ill with this life threatening disease. Franks life had not even begun when he was told that he will not survive till the end of the year.

Being a kid, he might have not even fully understood what it meant to die. Who does really know what it means: death? For him it would simply be a long sleep, but what about the people who loved him? Weren't they the ones at more pain? How can you evaluate this? One might think that it is impossible to accept the fact that your days are limited, however, maybe it's not such a simple scenario. As in any other situation, maybe each of us deal with such news in a different manner. Frank was different from what was expected. The first thing that crosses his mind upon hearing the bad news from Mr. Reed was that he will meet his dear grandmother up in heaven. Franks family was religious, and he was thought that good people really do go to heaven. He believed he was good. Was he "good," that's really a simple matter of what point of view you look form. At any given moment you can make anyone the good, or the bad. But Franks parents had told the child that he was a good lad, and that by doing good deeds he proved that he was a good man. What also seemed to be odd was that Frank truly believed that his grandmother was in heaven as well. He never imagined any other possibility. His grandma was in heaven, for all he knew.


It was exactly ten days before Christmas eve when Frank breathed his final breath. He died, and as expected he went off to heaven, only to find out that his grandmother was not there. Where was she, you might wonder. Did she end up in hell, despite being a good grandparent to Frank? The truth is simple; his grandmother never died. She was a sociopath and was locked up in an institution far from Frank's town. She was a serial killer who had killed numerous young, innocent kids.

Frank will never meet his grandmother again.

Metro

The crowd was unbearable, there were sad little people trying to reach the end of the platform, but we all knew that only few of us will make it on time. People were fighting as if it was for their life, but really the next metro was due in five minutes. What was so special about this one? It seemed amazing that your entire day depended upon boarding this one metro. Needless to say, I had made it just in time. The door caught some strands of my long wavy hair. I pulled in my bag ahead of me, where an unbelievable density of people stood in front of me. They all were desperate to hold on to something, as if that was even needed seeing the amount of people here, falling alone would be a challenge even if you wanted to fall. Desperate mothers were holding on to their small children. Business men were fixing their suites with zero results. School kids were busy playing games and laughing at anyone who stood out of the crowd. As for me, I was riding this metro, and trying to remember which stop was the one where I had to get off at. Soon the door flung open. My body was forced out of the vehicle by the mass of the people. I was now on the floor with my bag right on top of me. People uncontrollably moving over, and past me, as if I didn't even exists.

Fly 1

We all must train at least one dragon in our lives. Not much of a brain is needed to realize that the one dragon we must nurture is we ourselves. We all are a population of dragons. We all spit different kinds of fire. However, not all of us have learned how to fly. Very few of us know how to fly. See, for example, Darwin knew how to fly. He flew to places where no one had been. Shakespeare knew how to fly. Da Vinci knew how to fly. We all are to learn how to fly, and each of us have to fly in different directions. There is no one place to fly to, we all have to set different destinations, and then aim for it. It doesn't have to necessarily be somewhere far, far away, at heights no one has ever reached. It has to be something that is a challenge only for your dragon, and no one else. Don't dismiss this idea too soon. I bet you've heard something like this before, if not even the very same idea.

There once was a doll. She had a pale face, short hair, dark eyes, and she was as tall as a waterfall. She looked lovely. People would compliment her on how ''pretty''' she was. But it was never enough for her. She wanted to be more than a pretty face in the crowd. She worked at a candy shop, she met young children every day. The kids would greet her, they called her The Elf because every year for Christmas she would dress up as a generous elf. Occasionally she would get customers that were quite, many were here just once, and then would never come back. She loved to watch people change over time. She noticed a boy. He was a bit chubby, had countless freckles on his face and, judging by the uniform he always wore, he was a student of a near by private school. Elf, also known as Linda, first saw the child enter the store two years ago near the beginning of that school year. The little boy stood out of the crowd, she noticed this little man-to-be. He would come in the store once a month. Linda guessed that it was the day when he had gotten allowance from his parents. That was just a thought. He would walk in the store with gentle, little steps. If it wasn't for the bell at the top of the door, Linda probably wouldn't even notice the boy enter. Then the short lad would carefully look into every box at the shop. He specifically remembered where each of the candies were placed. At first Linda found his behaviour suspicious. There have been many rascals who have tried to run off with the candy without playing. Some had even gotten lucky and were never caught. The attentive girl paid attention to every move the boy made. After his first visit at the store he didn't buy anything. He had spent almost an hour in the small shop, but left empty handed. In about a month the boy had came in again. He walked in the store right after a group of young girls had left with many large bags of different kinds of candy. This time the little boy went straight up to Linda and in a very quite voice he asked for a small bag of her favourite candies. There were three different kinds of bags one could purchase; small for the shy, medium for the wise, and large bags for the real candy lovers. Linda was confused, but completed the customers request. The boy had a ten dollar note, this was unusual for such a young child, but Linda didn't pay much attention to it, she simply gave the boy the requested bag of candy and the change, 9 dollars and 55 cents. Linda's eyes followed the boy out the door, the small, golden bell on the top of the door rang, and outside he was. The door was of glass, Linda could see the boy stand right outside the door, he carefully opened the bag and peaked inside. He saw a small amount of cherry flavoured candies. They were in shape of cherries, even had leaves attached to them, but those were not to be eaten. Linda's favourite candies smelled like real cherries.

For Linda cherries were the symbol of her childhood. When she was very, very young she would spend hours, even days picking cherries. She loved the sweet taste. She remembers how she climbed in tall trees to get the lovely berries. She used to be really short as a child, people would even call her in upsetting names for she was the shortest in the neighbourhood. The teen years came, and that's when she quickly became one of the tallest girls around. Now that she was so tall, it was much easier for her to reach cherries from higher branches without the need to climb the tree. The top ones were sweeter than sugar.


TBC.

Luck

You are a lucky elephant. You win when you gamble. How come we all are divided into sectors of happiness? Why can't we all be the same. Individuality is a myth that became reality. It shouldn't exists. Who ever thought it was a good idea, was not a very sharp tool. I blame the globalization. I blame the rich, and I blame the poor. I blame You all for this hell that we live in. Equality should have never been born. We shouldn't have let it grow. I can not wait for it to grow old, I want it to get bold and die.

We all are meant to have the same dreams. We all should aim for the same boring life. There shall be one king that should be nominated, and not elected, no. It should remain as a hereditary factor. No one should ever have power just because they got lucky. Nowadays luck plays too much of a role in people's lives. We trust in luck. We wish to win the lottery more than we wish to go to work. We wish for money. It's all about the wealth. That's why I blame the rich, and I blame the poor.

It was supposed to go down as any other American style movie, but then things drastically changed. Unexpected historical events took place, and so the entire script had to be changed.

When You're Gone

You are gone to me. You're a broken watch, that shows no time. You are a sound of jazz in a far, far distance. You are a gold ring around my finger. You are there as a thing, as a symbol. That is all I have of you.

Red dress. Broken shoes. I will come. I will claim what is mine. I do not know what the right time is. I don't need to know anything. Minutes don't matter. Crazy. You make me high. I do not care for the season. It's like nothing has ever mattered to me.

Now it's just me and my red dress. Broken down to every pore. Broken down to every syl-la-ble. I will come and I will take what's mine.

If you refuse to fall down at my feet, I'll make you stumble. I will make you stammer when ever you open your mouth. I used to know you. You used to know me. Everyone stumbles. You can not always be sure. I should forget you. I will forget you. But I have this vague symbol of you. It shall drown.