023 The Death of the Sun
He was dreaming… The place was… a burning inferno. Red flames raged everywhere, surrounding the area, moving round and round like a scorching whirlwind – and he stood in the middle of it all. His tall silhouette unscathed by the rampant flames shook in sorrow as he held the limp body of the one he held dear. Tears fell from his silver-grey almond shaped orbs down to his cheeks only to sizzle and evaporate before they reached his chin. “Wake up, wake up,” he cried out as he tried to shake the motionless girl in his arms but to no avail. The lids which he wished to open remained close – had been closed for quite some time now and he feared they would never open again. “Hana, wake up. Wake up!” he commanded as he stepped away from the rubbles unmindful of the conflagration. The blaze whic
- Writer
