“A toast! My kingdom for a toast!” The crowd at the café chuckled. They all knew him. They all loved his silly jokes. The room was always dark. That gave them a sense of protection and the silly, often crude, jokes made them feel like they belonged. One day he didn’t show up. They looked for him everywhere. Weeks went by. Then they received a letter at the café. “I’m fine. I got a job digging up some ruins. The archaeologists are OK. But they lack one thing. They don’t have toast!” The crowd at the café chuckled once again.
Rebel for a Lost Cause
I’ve always been a rebel, albeit not a very successful one.
The trouble is, I really don’t like to make a fuss; so whilst other rebels are toppling governments, standing up against perceived injustices and sticking it to the man, my own rage against the machine may seem somewhat insignificant.
Still, rebellion is rebellion, no matter how it may manifest itself.
So, while I still have breath in me, I’ll continue to have an extra sugar in my tea; I’ll refuse to go to bed at a reasonable hour; and, whenever somebody raises a toast… I’m never clinking my glass.
From the ruins of a shattered life, I crawl: The embodiment of pain, anger and dismay.
Within my breast beats a heart devoid of love, compassion or care. I know only hatred and pain, despair and woe.
I’m coming for you, and when I find you, I will destroy you… Break you… Rend your flesh and torment your soul.
Because I will never forget those vows you swore and a toast! To us, our health and happiness: To you, just hollow words, but to me a loving promise you failed to keep.
For better, or worse.
In the wake of endless sorrow
She burns bright with rage. It tempers every move. Make no mistake her
rebel heart with drop you without a second thought. Your glowing remains
will smolder beside some long-forgotten road. Your only hope to master the
intensity of task at hand. Never waver from the glorious quest or let less
soul dissuade you with words of comfort. In the night of a 1000 flames be
the rebel glow be hers alone and know at the end of all things you rose to
be the one. The light breaks set your mind of stone, your heart to iron,
you will to iron.
A Lucky Man and a Brave Woman
Their courtship and engagement had lasted a little more than 11 months. James would have been fine getting married on the anniversary of their engagement, but Natalie didn’t want to wait. And she couldn’t resist being a ‘June bride’.
The planning and the ceremony were a blur of memory now, as they were seated at the head table.
“Ahem… Hi, everyone. I’m Michael, James’ Best Man. I’ve known James since Second Grade. I met Natalie a week after she met James. James, hold on to her. You will never find another woman willing to be ‘Mrs. Hooker’.”
Billbert and his parents arrived at the Air Bnb. They punched in the code and entered the house. When they flipped on the lights Billbert took in the view. A table was prominently displayed in the middle of the sitting room with an array of bottles of wine, cheese and crackers.
“Dive in, Billbert,” his mother said to him pointing to the crackers. She picked up a single serving bottle of wine. “Maybe we should have a toast.”
Mr. Blanketmaker laughed. “A toast to what? Our house in ruins?”
His wife shook her head. “No. How about a name change?”
The rebels fled Freedom Town, leaving behind piles of dead hostages and setting fires as they left.
Fire suppression crews did their best to limit the damage.
Rebel flags on the poles were wired to explosives.
Anti-government posters were chemically treated with poison.
The water system was poisoned, too.
The rebels claimed the government did it all.
And the media repeated their lie.
So, the government raided the newspapers, radio stations, and television networks.
Expelled the ambassadors of countries that hosted rebel training camps and condemned the government’s response.
And the war raged no, there was nothing civil about it.