The irony is that Vladamir Putin has been nominated for the Nobel Prize Peace Award.
Tears. My tears of pain, of hurt..of anger splatter down yet you still forsaken me.
You forsaken so many of us.
Everyday I gaze up at the night sky, wondering if you’re really there. There’s a domain in my heart enshrouded with fear, with doubt…do I believe in you or do I want to?
It hurts you know? To be thrashed. Mentally and physically…every single second of your life – even in my sleep, I am not at peace. To be called a whore, worthless, a mistake…countless other things…am I? But I guess I did prove her wrong in one respect; I didn’t get pregnant at the age of 14. But then she goes on to tell me that she must have done something wrong to have a child like me in this life…do I cause her suffering? Am I the reason why my family are unhappy?
Everyday I dread coming home. It starts from the minute I enter the house and stops from the minute I leave it.
I live in a cage.
I live in a prison.
It starts with the shouting, goes on to the throwing of objects at me, breaking my things and ends with the kicks and punches to my head, my stomach, my face. Everyday. I don’t know why but I swear I hear happiness radiating in his voice while he riles her up even further to take it out on me.
There is no such thing as family – it is all a pretence.
Sometimes I wonder if this is a test…a test from you. But why give me this test when others don’t…why me? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to leave…or do you want me to persevere through, determined, strong? Because I don’t think my strength will last any longer.
Everyday, that bottle of pills, sitting idly there, torment me. They sit there, tempting me, asking me to reach out. Will today be another day where I cower, where do I waver?
The thumps of the footsteps are resounding louder now , louder and louder.
There is no time to prepare.
These seventeen years. These seventeen long years I have tried. Maybe it is the easy way out. But to me, it’s the only.
The horse cantered into the trees, leaving the rider mumbling frantic words. The creature behind could be heard louder now, the rider pressed on; further into the woods, further into the spell. His features were illuminated in the moonlight, shining down on the nebulous branches surrounding him.
And the eyebrows?
They were slanted slightly, blending in with his pale face, the rider was what they defined beautiful. Though if you happened to look closely, behind the mixture of blond and brown wisps of hair, his frail pointy ears protruded – immediately radiating his origins.
The pursuing creature was closer now, leaving the rider even more panicked.
“Gillizaro,” he bellowed.
A red bolt left his smooth palm, turning the trees a blood-red colour. Abruptly as a life force had entered, the trees twirled into a cricle, guarding the elf within, with their very lives. A scarlet ring encricled him, glowing very softly but enough to attract the creature.
The elf should have been losing the beast but now the only way out was a difficult route. Every second was precious and he began to chant. Words only few knew, he spoke of the ancient language. A decreased number of the population were educated in these words and every letter was lethal when spoken.
These were elven woods and the creature, to come so far into from the border, must have exceptional power. This was no ordinary beast, this was probably directly summoned from the Shai’tan. Coming from the end of his words, the dark shadow of the pursuer could be seen. With the last roll of his tongue, blue sparks of life erupted from within him and shot to the creature with incredible speed.
Leaving the creature disintergrated, they returned towards his direction, though instead of into this body, they intertwined around him, encasing the near-dead body.
“Chikla oura nirnil,” the elf threw out those words with difficulty.
The shade of blue grew darker now until a grey could be faintly seen. It began to harden turning from a wisp from the sea to a stone of ash, encasing the elf with it.