Monday, November 12, 2007



He felt like he was flying, an exhilaration that surpassed anything he'd ever felt before. And indeed, he was flying, the wind brushing back his hair with gentle, yet brusque force. His body was as light as a feather, happiness he had never known.

Trapped.

He thought back to his childhood, of the fun times he had with his relatives.
He thought back to his primary school, of the learnings he experienced.
He thought back to his secondary school, of the friends he had made and lessons learnt.
He thought back to the happy times.

Trapped.

He was falling, not flying, falling. Falling into a pit of despair, a deep dark pit with no way out. He made sure of that, that he could not turn back once he jumped in.

Trapped.

He smashed onto the cold hard ground. There was no pain, no feeling. There was just... nothing. He saw nothing, heard nothing, tasted nothing, smelt nothing, felt nothing. And as the crimson flower blossomed around his shattered body, his soul felt itself lighten.

Trapped.

They burnt him in his black shirt as he had once requested. The epitome of his success, and of his failure. The reminder of how high he had soared, and how low he had crashed. It was a bond, that he never could escape. And now, as his body was burnt, he realized that his soul could not release itself even then.

Trapped.

And for eternity he would remain chained to his memories of success and failure, never able to escape for a moment. His soul would not move, could not move. Although death had released his physical being, he would never truly escape. For something else had been broken, the thing that was shattered, was needed to move on, would never move on.

Trapped.

His shattered spirit.

Forever.