The man’s fingers trembled as he took a step closer to the woman

on

His hand shook and it took him a moment for him to open his fingers. He’d just
touched something so delicate. His body stilled, waiting for him to realize
what he had. His breath came in short bursts as he stared down at the
slightest touch, his heart still pounding after his initial adrenaline rush of
seeing the tulips.

His hand went to his side, his thumb brushing against his belt. If he looked
close enough, he could see the small gold medallion sewn on the back of his
pocket. He’d seen it on a few people when he was looking for his wallet. He
looked down at it, trying to will the blood to return to his hand. The
medalist had a small picture of a young girl with a bright smile. He’d
familiarized himself with the word “mercy” and found himself reaching for it
a lot of the time, remembering that it was a gift from the woman he loved. He
closed his hand around the medallion, his fingers resting on the small gold
heart that was etched into its center. He took a breath and swallowed, the
breath heavy with a sense of sorrow. He took a step back, trying to remember
how to breathe, but the medallion’s soft skin was too hard on his hand,
clenching. His fingers trembled again and this time took him a step closer to
the woman. She was just a shadow at first, but slowly the colors came into
view. The light from the moon filtered through her body and created a delicate
fade into the shadows. He could see the small, delicate face of her, smile
hidden by the shadow and his heart clenched.

“Excuse me,” he said, not quite believing what he was seeing. The woman turned
around with an expression of surprise and the tiny face smiled wider. “The
mercy medallion,” he said slowly. He took another step back and let his eyes
drift over her, trying to find the right words to describe what he’d seen. “I
saw the medallion in your hands.” He took another step back.

She took a step forward and her hand lifted to reach for him. He flinched.
The light and the shadows had merged and he couldn’t see her face anymore, but
he felt a wave of pain tear through his chest.

It was dark. It was cold and not far from there was the cold and dark of the
grave. But they are all part of one whole, this shadow and this man who is not.
Their souls are one and their spirits walk together one day and the other. Only
there is no name for this, only the fear of that day when we have to be the
unseen and the shadows live on in the world. Their names are forgotten in the
fear. They are called nothing because they are nothing.

His breathing increased. “What is it?” “You have a…?” “The black mass.” “I have
a black mass in the center of my heart.” “That’s not possible.” “I saw it.”
“I saw it”

And then I saw it. The pain, the burning, the terror. I thought I’d die.

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think. He was
lost in the dark. He couldn’t feel it. He was afraid of it. He was afraid of
himself, afraid of the darkness. I saw the pain. I was there for it. I saved
him. I gave him a second chance.

“You saved me,” he said, feeling like he was speaking to the ghost himself.

This time there was no fear. There was no pain. There was only fear and
anger. Anger that he was powerless to feel. Anger that he’d been deceived,
that he was a coward. Anger that he was not strong enough to fight the darkness.
Anger that this was a sign to him of his own weakness.

We are never stronger than our weakest moment. For all the strength we think we
have, we are fragile human beings with weak thoughts, weak feelings and weak
motives. We are weak with our own thoughts, weak with our own feelings and weak
with our own feelings. And we will live as long as we keep the same weak
thoughts; the same weak feelings; the same weak motivations; or we will die.
The one who understands this is strong and is always strong. Every moment of
our life is a strength and every moment that we die is a weakness and we are
weak without the strength.

This isn’t the end. There is a new tomorrow and we have to live as if this is
the end of the story. We have to live as if this is the beginning of the story. And
we have to live as if this is the end of the story. We have to live as if this
is the beginning of a new story. A new future. A new history. A new time.

We have to live as if this is the end of the story. We have to live as if this
is the beginning of the story. And we have to live as if this is the end of the
story. We have to live as if this is the beginning of the story. And we have to live as if this is the end of the story. We have to live as if this is the beginning of the story. And we have to live as if this is the end of the story. We have to live as if this is the beginning of the story. We have to live as if this is the end of the story. And we have to live as if this is the beginning of the story. And we have to live as if this is the end of the story. We have to live as if this is the beginning of the story. And we have to live as if this is the end of the story.

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