Thank you for reading this. I am working on my story 13 reasons why but felt the need to post this. I want to continue but only if I have a decent amount of reviews and viewers indicating that I should take the time to try and balance these two stories instead of just my one. So if you like this speak now or forever hold your peace. Enjoy.


They were tainted fireworks. Blasting in colors of iron grey and blistering reds. Men raced into foxholes howling in horror. Bodies splayed across the barren land. "There is no atheist in foxholes". The quote tantalized the young blonde as he army crawled cowering for safety.

"Man down; man down!" the phrase echoed across the vast desert. His jade eyes brimmed with tears as he embraced that those would perhaps be the last words he'd ever hear. Bombs continued to blast deafening. He could taste a metallic texture in his mouth. Arnold began to associate the taste with blood he was bleeding! Arnold realized he was dying. A cynical part of him found relief in this fact as he clutched his gun slinking into a dug up hole. At last he would find serenity and silence.

A lopsided grin curled across his lips as his eyes half lidded over. He could almost hear his grandparent's laughter. He would be with them soon enough. Then suddenly, the heavens conveyed a message to him, fluttering like an ivory snowflake amongst the dirt and grime was a single photo the top right corner torn off. Arnold stretched out his slender dirty hands to clutch the photo. He gasped stunned as he gazed into the sapphire eyes of the most beautiful blonde stranger he'd ever seen. He touched the photograph timidly his finger tracing across her platinum ringlets. He fell in love with the image of her face. She was his guardian angel. Arnold would survive this warfare. When he was released he'd find this woman. Find his guardian angel, his loving angel.


Helga wept over her long loving boyfriend Brian's grave. She shredded the flowers in her rage sapphire eyes bleeding mascara. She tugged at her loose strands of curls. Across her neck she wore his nametags. They'd given him a Purple Heart. What use was a Purple Heart when her heart remained black and blue bleeding from her loss? He'd been torn to pieces when they'd found him. He'd had nothing left to his identity but serial numbers on a silver tag. They said he'd been clutching on to something. Clinging to it for dear life even. Brian had been holding some sort of paper. During gunfire it had slipped from his fingertips only a corner piece had remained in his possession.

Helga did not dwell on it for too long engulfed in agony otherwise. Bravely she stiffened her upper lip and rose to her feet striding as she headed to the veteran's home for a charity. It was the charity drive that had risen her hurt memories of Brian, which is why she paid him a visit this morning. Six months later and it still felt like he'd been right beside her just yesterday ready to be stationed off to Iraq for the last time. Helga vowed that her heart had taken off on that plane with Brian. She vowed never to love again come hell or high waters.


Little did both Arnold and Helga know that the cosmos was once more forcing them to collide together. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. The lost picture of one boy would change the lives of thousands. This is the story of a boy, a girl, and the picture that brought them together. The story of the lucky one.