kenzieb

kenzieb

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dusk

I fear the fading sun, when it threatens to dip below the horizon. For when it leaves, so will all my protection. I'll be alone, fending myself against a darkness I can no longer bear. Dusk is darkness. Dusk is death.

His gaze was affectionate as he brushed the hair back from my eyes. Brimming with fresh tears, his blue eyes smiled up at me as he said, "Don't ever stop smiling, Sunshine." "Daddy," I hoarsely begged. "Don't go." "I'll never let go, Cass," he gently let his hand drop. Exhaustion from the effort to sit up in his hospital bed seemed to set in. "You'll never be alone," he whispered as his eyes shut for the final time. Mine closed with his as a sob burrowing in my chest exploded into the emptiness of the room.

I was walking through the hallways before I noticed it--just a small piece of paper which jutted from a locker. I shouldn’t have cared, but I did. I shouldn’t have stepped forward to grasp it...but I did. Although I didn’t feel anything as I lifted it up to my eyes, I knew something inside of me had changed. When I read the words written in a masculine scroll, I knew without a doubt that I had accepted a mission without knowing it. That no matter what lie I fabricated, it was my duty to carry out the note’s message. I knew that this mission would change my life. Forever.

My life is nothing more than a lie, fabricated by the stories I've been forced to live out. I can never be myself. I do not know who I am. Because my whole life has been fabricated by this one truth: If anyone finds out my identity, I. Will die.

swell

When I saw my picture on their magazine, my heart swelled in fear. It didn't matter that they had covered my face with a black box . . . I didn't feel any safer. I studied my clothes and hair in the photo. Without further thought, I ripped my hair from its bun and braided it down my back. I took a soiled handkerchief from my laundry basket and secured it around my hair. Then, I went inside the hut and found the clothes I had worn. I hesitated for a brief moment before casting the dress into the fire. My very last outfit . . . burned because of a simple picture. But the cinders just may save my life. Gazing into the fire, I determined to flee my village. Tonight.

rise

I rise from the ground. Dust coats my eyes, blurring the city into obscurity. I blink and everything becomes clear. Destruction had flooded my city, leaving behind only rubble. Death had risen like a lion, slaughtering all in sight. Unmovable buildings now lay in ashy heaps at my feet. Immortal people lay dead around me among the debris. Fire scorches the area, devouring everything left in sight. Sounds of war grow nearer. Blocking out the gut-wrenching pictures surrounding me, I tighten the satchel across my chest. I check inside it --food, water, clothes, matches . . . "Lydie," a voice hisses. I turn around, pulling an arrow into its socket. "It's me," the pale male in front of me huffs, walking nearer. Beneath the dust and soot, I see who it is before he says, "Nathan." I lower the bow. "Is there anyone left?" He shakes his head, bites his lips, and kneels beside a corpse. He chokes out, "No." There is no time for emotions, I think, taking deep breaths. "Do you have food? weapons? blankets?" He touches the hilt of his sword, resting in his back scabbard, and the backpack strapped upon it. "Everything I own is here." "We need to leave," I say. "Immediately." "The soldiers are coming." He rises. "I'm ready."

“Why are you here?” Kye demands, executing a vertical slice. “I thought out could use some help,” I say through clenched teeth, thrusting my short blade into my opponents right arm. When he falls, I turn my attention to the next two opponents. “Thank you, Tris,” he cries over the deafening scream of war. He seems satisfied with my answer. If only he knew… I shake off the guilt, pulling an arrow from my quiver, sending it flying through the air. If my plan works, he never will know.

"Why are you here?" Kye demanded, executing a vertical slice. "I thought out could use some help," I said through clenched teeth, thrusting my short blade into my opponents right arm. When he falls, I turn my attention to the next two opponents. "Thank you, Tris," he cries over the deafening scream of war. He seemed satisfied with my answer. If only he knew... I shake off the guilt, pulling an arrow from my quiver, sending it flying through the air. If my plan works, he never will know.

"Think," I hear the thoughts of my teacher, reassuring, urging. But I can't even breathe. With the gun trained towards my head, the lone man regards me in quiet speculation. "Why should I let you live?" Think. Think. But all thought escapes me. My mouth grows dry. "I know the Kaisians very well, sir. I could aid you on your quest." He laughs, the cool metal barrel pressing deeper into my skull. "All of Paula's recruits know about Kaisians. What can you offer me that they can't?" If I tell him the truth, I could die because of it. "I know the Kaisians well because...well." Think. Think. "Because I was one." Then, a click.

Slowly, he pours sugar into his coffee, measuring the white sweetness and me with his bright blue eyes. "Death will come from this." Taking a deep breath, I glance at my feet before raising my gaze to his. "I know," I say on a shaky sigh. "But. But it is the only thing I can do." He tilts his head to the side, inspecting me. Returning the favor, I survey his black hair with salt sprinklings that is pulled back into a loose braid; black trousers and a crisp white shirt, tucked in at the waist with one button undone; a sword swings at his hip and a dagger is hidden in his left black boot. "There are other ways, little one," the man speaks quietly. "Other ways will sacrifice more lives!" I cry. Suddenly, I grow quiet. Still. Silent. "I can't lose anyone else. A gentle hand falls to my shoulder. I wipe the tears from my eyes. "People don't want to lose you either."

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writing since 2012 · 70 entries · 57 days shown up

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on this day 14 years ago

KenzieB19 wrote about arts
“"Some people may call it a skill or something that I have been trained in. Others may say the skills I have are a curse. But I believe that the art that I practice is a blessing in disguise. Who else…”

the words KenzieB19 reaches for

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