emily Silveira
Stories (1/0)
Hatred Dies in the Funniest of Ways
I was seven years old when I had met nine-year-old Aubrey. He had been quite large for his age and had possessed both the eyes and nasal voice of a frustrated character. He was the type of person to be hated and avoided by everyone both inside and outside of school since he had been the kind of person to push and shove those who he had seen as beneath himself, which had included me. Flocks of students would either hurry out of his way or wait for Aubrey to pass by. No one could ever see themselves loving someone so deviant, until he had found me. He would always be there waiting for me beneath the darkest of alleyways, behind the tallest of hedges and hidden within the most confined corners of the school. As Aubrey was large for his age and I had been small for mine, I established great difficulty in pursuing gangs of people that had been classified as being “my kind,” which had only encouraged me to keep myself around a dictator like Aubrey. He had enjoyed being feared by others and had craved mercy from them, as though there had been a new God dominating over every human being including myself. As time had flown by, Aubrey had remained out of sight and had vanished from the town, but never seemed to do so from my mind, as though he had taken over me completely; it was though I hadn’t gone a day without him. The memories of Aubrey had only grown stronger and steadier, keeping his essence alive and present to me every waking day. My hatred for him had only grown more fierce and had no intention of ever stopping. At this point in time, I was part taking in the Vimy Ridge battle and had been the only one left within my company. The entire day had consisted of giving and receiving specialized orders from other sergeants as to when fights were to be scheduled to begin and where they would take place when these battles had occurred. Unfortunately, this had been a day that both the civilization and myself would never find the competence to suppress, a memory so self-consuming that only intends to continue to remain and haunt me for the rest of my days. Waking up to the sights of spewing, grey fog and clashes of bombs striking both opposing sides had ignited a spark inside me; it was time. Dashing over mudslides and the engulfed burrows that had been made within the earth, I had found myself sliding feet first into a huge crater, swallowing my body whole.
By emily Silveira5 years ago in Serve