He shouldn't have come back.
Because these halls
echoed with screams,
every stained-glass window
shook with the cries of people who were not alive.
The oak doors of the Great Hall
shook
with the banging of invisible fists,
begging to be let out of their eternal
afterlife.
She shouldn't have come back
Because everywhere she looked, she saw
ghosts.
Ghosts of her enimies, of her friends, of people who she will not see until she leaves this
forsaken Earth.
Footsteps
echoing,
sharp pains ran up his legs like that day.
They hadn't plastered up the
holes (made by killing curses)
yet, and every one represented a friend (and a brother) that he
wouldn't
get
to
touch
again.
They held hands, r e a c h i n g to feel the walls. They held each other, because if they let go,
they might lose the only tangible part of their worlds.
Tears
f e l l to the cold floor,
(cold as their skin), with sounds that were likewhispers of the ones that had departed from
these very halls
and
these very floors
and
these very ceilings
If they let their eyes
un-focus,
they could see the blood.
Sometimes, in order to forget, you first have to remember.
