A Story by Thorn

Photographs- they take us back, compel us to reminisce. But we know, in our hearts, and with longing sadness, that those days are gone. Time marches onward. Stuffed toys become checkbooks.

Fearfully, we look back and see how time has flown. How our beautiful locks are turning to grey, as our flesh withers. We glimpse those who once seemed so young, but now recall- or read of- their deaths. Time taints all, and it is of little wonder that the youth have a distaste for rest homes. They don't want to think of what is to come.

Perhaps, though, that blissful and eternal sleep which finally puts our bodies to rest, fails to pacify the mind. When we cast off our frail mortal shells, and dance into oblivion, maybe we can relive those times of youth and laughter. In fact, this is heaven in its purest form- beauty bestowed once more, and youth restored. Once more, in death, we can see those dear to us as we used to know them, and revel in their presence without a tired and cynical heart.

© 2012 Thorn

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Added on January 2, 2012
Last Updated on January 2, 2012



A city with roads in it, New Zealand

I'm Thorn. I like sushi, and my pet axolotl, Mexie. I enjoy sailing, writing, and acting. And playing my flute. ^^ I dislike maths, trying to memorise Shakespeare, and being wrong. But I love my c.. more..

Dawning Dawning

A Poem by Thorn

Midnight Liaison Midnight Liaison

A Chapter by Thorn