Pyral-Ink

    Genma sighed to herself as she sat alone peering over the cotton candy clouds. They had turned pink and orange with the setting sun. She liked this time of day because it turned the all too white buildings of Paradise a subdued shade of golden. It made everything seem warm and safe, and she loved the way the orange rays danced off her short blonde locks. Her nails itched at the fabric of her new garments. They consisted of a formless shirt and a pair of pants both a slightly off-white color along with polished white shoes. They were the fashion of Paradise, but Genma still preferred the black sweater and jeans she’d arrived in. Thin

Butterflies buzzing In the stomach The calm before the storm. The eve of a birthday, And the hour before a death It’s a giddy high that requires no drug. Hurry, hurry Faster, faster Wait! You blinked.

Raise the flags high Their emblems blazing As cries ring out In the distance Their emblems blazing On silver-plated armor In the distance The enemy stands On silver-plated armor Blood and fear rested The enemy stands Only one man strong Blood and fear rested In the ground like fallen comrades Only one man strong Is strong enough Raise high the white flags As cries ring out.

Give. Take. Give. Take. The natural cycle of life You broke the wheel Stopped it cold So now everything’s a taker Everything’s entitled And you the worst of all You’re not a giver Not a saint Oh how you live to fall The gold pedestal that lifted you Has become rotten to the core Like your decaying soul Weeds encased and broke its sun-bathed shell And exposed the fragile insides They were as delicate and beautiful as snowflakes And just as quick to die When exposed to true radiance

I realized that upon death everything I had come to believe was wrong. There was no Heaven, no Hell, and definitely no God. Heaven, or Paradise as I preferred to call it, was a lot like Earth. Everyone coexisted here whether they wanted to or not. Blessed or damned, everyone ended up here in Paradise.            My story starts in a lovely little place called Limbo. I could turn back, but I’d only exist as a wayward spirit, or go forward into the unknown. Shaking, I went into the blinding white light before me. My hand immediately went up to shield my face from the sun’s harsh rays pouring into Paradise. My eyes had yet to adjus