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Short story based on Kingdom Hearts, which is a game. If you have not heard of it before, this might be a tad bit confusing, but understandable. ^^ Reviews and criticism welcomed.
Thorns
We have no roses here.
I had only seen them once in my life. They were magnificently crafted flowers with vibrant crimson petals, often suffused with dusky maroon. Each fragile layer draped over another, unfazed and still pure from the natural beauty. Through adversity they flourished with graceful ease. Even from a vast array of flowers, you could locate the wondrous significance of a simple rose.
Although the petals had been soft and velvety, the stem certainly was not. Studded with dangerously sharp thorns, it was a warning; but I heeded nothing from a delicate life. After all, a vain creature as itself had to move daintily and with vigilance. It had surprised me when it preferred to dwell alone in perpetual solitude, bending slightly forward, giving it a weary look. Had they been accustomed to such life?
At the island, I wish and yearn for one more glimpse. I can only be satisfied with my imagination and the scarce wildflowers seldom catching my eye. When one first steps onto the remote, obscured land, they are immediately entranced by the ways of our life. I am unperturbed, staring at them marvel at the impeccable structure of how nature eventually built the solitary island. I still suppress screaming out their blind ignorance. Could they not see this place was far from perfect?
The other people greet them with open arms. A foolish grin is plastered on their faces, and I discreetly exit the hopeless scenery. Every year visitors stop by, whether it was intended, out of boredom, or fatigue. I see how they look at us, stereotyping us as barbarians for doing things simply, wearing simple clothes, living a simple life. Many years have passed since I had last seen him visit. Perhaps it had been a misconception, or a wistful, faraway dream.
I do not know why I keep my futile hopes up. An attempt on being optimistic never gives me reassurance, for facts always win. Days fly by swiftly and quietly, without notice. On those rare, childlike days, I enter the cave. Through the silver walls dampened with moisture is an unnoticed sanctuary.
Being in it makes me want to break out in hysterical giggles. Tracing the irregular pictures roughly scratched on the stone wall brings never ending waves of nostalgia. I try to advert my eyes from the transparent door. It delights in teasing me, mocking me, bringing back all the betrayals, lies, false promises, and an undying will. I would like to interrogate it, questioning, “Why isn’t he coming back?â€
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