I've Got Pain For Sale
I don't know how long I've been rushing through the pine trees. Seems like an eternity.
Everything was so silent. No gun shots. No explosions.
No screams.
I could almost hear the snowflakes breaking upon touching the ground.
I started to slow down.
My mind was blank as I felt the cold creep in my bones.
Once the cold gets in you, it never leaves-my father used to say.
And it was true. But he also said never to lose hope, the next village might just be across the next snowbank.
Oh, I used to wish I was just like you, pappa.
Strong in every aspect of my life.
I wished I could make you proud.
I...
These ski marks...ah. I stopped in grim realization.
I'm going around in circles.
So this is it.
I slid off my skis, something my pappa would frown upon, fell on my knees and lay in the soft snow.
Oh, I was so tired. My muscles melted in sweet relaxation.
I didn't feel cold anymore.
I don't feel anything anymore.
But I hear my favorite waltz!
Livet i Finnskogarna...
I hum and move my fingers with the rhythm. 1 2 3, 1 2 3, 1 2 3...
As it ends my vision blurs and I fall in peaceful slumber.
What a good way to go.
"...sir, I just...roll over..."
Hm?
"...get you..."
"..."
A childish voice?
Oh. The angels came to pick me up.
. . .
. . .
"...hold on..."
. . .
A/N: It's short. Very short, but it's only the first chapter, soo...this is going to be pretty interesting to write.
I've never actually tried to develop a story in English. :P
Comments and critiques are welcome!
Livet i Finnskogarna - google it! It's a very famous accordion waltz written by a very famous Swedish accordionist Calle Jularbo. :)
