They had lined the bridge for weeks protesting for the right. The government declared they were disturbing the peace with all the noise and blockades they were creating. The public who in the first few days had seem to be with the protesters now turned they backs.
Hope began to fade, a bad storm was rolling in and some of the protesters decided to take they cause somewhere else. A few braves remind though, chained to the the bridge railing and holding hands. They fight to the bitter end for what they believed in, they were strong together.
Neil smiled within the helmet and thought, everything’s going to plan perfectly, it all seems so easy!
He looked around, still unable to believe he was walking on the surface of the moon, it was too dream like then something caught his eye, a little movement at the edge of one of the craters.
Neil focused on it, he saw three green tentacles with eyes watching him, shocked he walked over but by the time he got there whatever it was had gone, it’s just lack of oxygen or something… shaking his head, Neil walked back to the shuttle.
There was nothing like the thrill of flying and as Nick climbed into the cockpit of his Red Arrow plane, he tried to calm his excitement.
Today, all the hard work was going to pay off as they preformed at the festival, wowing the crowed below and turning the sky multi-coloured with the planes’ dyed smoke.
Nick took a deep breath and started the plane’s engine, the vibrations rushed through him, relighting the excitement, the voices of the other pilots came through his headset, everything was ready, they were clear for take off.
Gone were the birthdays of her childhood which had always been filled with excitement. Now, they were the same old parties with the ageing relatives and friends, the boring talks, the out of fashioned music and the too sweetly iced cake. She longed to be taken back in time, to remember birthdays were it was good to be another year older and not feel her age creeping upon her.
Querencia; a place from which ones strength is drawn, where on feels at home, the place where you are your most authentic self.
The sea called to me. It flowed through my blood via generations of fishermen and sailors. The sounds of the waves, the salty air made me feel calm and reassured. I could draw strength from the sea, from the knowledge it was ever changing yet stayed familiar.
On stormy days, I would brave a walk on the sandstorm beach and watch the wind and rain whipping the high waves. I would shout into the storm, letting all my angry out.
On calm days, I would take my boat out and just drift. Feeling at home and most like myself. I could be whoever I wanted to be out on the waves but most of the time I could just be me, without judgement, without a care.
The weekend market was busy, the stalls weighed down with a range of goods from clothes to bric-bric, household items to a world of foods and people were everywhere, scrambling over the best deals that the sellers were yelling out like singers of heavy metal bands.
Adam, keeping his head down, went to a book stall and began looking through the titles, then with a glance to the occupied seller, he started slipping books into his padded jacket.
Walking away, Adam went start home, where he sat on his broken sofa and began reading one of the books.