Lost ThunderThe sky flashed white for a second but only silence followed. With a sigh, the weary man sat on his cloud.Lost Thunder2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
As he aged, his sight grew dimmer. Red and green were usually alive with light and power but now seemed only plain; undead colors painted from the same dead pigments as everything else in the world.
As he grew, his dreams become increasingly rare. Life was tough enough, with bills and taxes and jobs and tests. There was no time left for watching the sunset, for riding dragons in a thunderstorm, for wielding the essence lightning itself as a blade, for jumping from cloud to cloud keeping a wild smile in his face.
As time went by, his friends began to fade away. They too had bills and taxes and jobs and tests. They moved away and even those that were still around had better things to do than chasing lightning bolts in the clear blue sky.
He saw the world was a plain, dreadful painting. He did not dream. He had few friends and rarely saw them.
Was his thunder stolen or had he hid it
S h a t t e r e d.What is she supposed to doS h a t t e r e d.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when the whole world is against her?
Everything she touches shatters
into a million tiny shards,
until it resembles the pathetic pieces of her broken heart
and withers away to nothing.
She'll watch the dust float away on the merciful wind,
until it is just an image
forever etched into her mind.
She'll be satisfied in knowing that it, at least,
will finally be safe from this hell on Earth.