in which tragedy is sure to strike {ray and jean}

[LUCAS WOLFSON]

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

What a lovely evening it was. The lady of the moon was basked in that silver silk dress that she always wore; the stars were busy decorating the blanket that nestled the earth in its dark embrace and all was quiet in such a dim night. A little bit of order after a day of chaotic series of events was a perfect cup of tea. And what better way to pass the time than to read a few old poems?

Ah yes, Ducle Et Decorum Est. Quite a lovely little poem about the horrors that wars brought around. It was almost depressing visualising the scene, of a poor man who had reacted too slow and was sentenced to death by his enemies, and being carried away by his brothers in arms who would end up being haunted by the scene that they witnessed. Tragic, yes, but so was the way of man. To take the way away from the man would be to take the wings away from the bird, or the gills away from the fish. It would be stripping away the essence that made man, man.

But not all man would be willing to face their nature. Some would be adamant and take quite a different approach to life. Something “good”, like upholding the law, or writing pieces of literature about experiences of olden times. Some would put on a different mask and protest against the nature of man, proposing the idea of worldly peace, which was quite a dim witted attempt of soothing one’s conscience.

Some however had not a care in the world, and instead preferred basking in the beauty of nature, especially on such a fine night. He however only chose this place because he was quite tired of wasting away every night inside his apartment, as luxurious and comfortable as it was. He wanted to see what man enjoyed about nature; what drew them to protect the trees from the iron claw of technology. And it would be a perfectly good excuse to bring a book along to read, since a few people found it a good pastime.

[TRINITY LARKSON]

trinity loved the park. she loved to see the wide expanses of green, as far as she looked; she loved to see all the flowers, blossoming in gardens far and wide. she loved to come here during the day; the sunlight made everything feel alive and warm. it was one of the few places she'd go if she left the house, aside from shopping and her job. she didn't often go out at night, however; she usually just curled up into a lamp and read until she fell asleep. night was dangerous! she had no idea who - or what - could attack her out here. but for now, she simply strolled down the cobblestone walkways, her paranoia and fears in the back of her mind for the moment.

she had her nose all but pressed up against a book she was reading; bad eyesight plus nighttime equals headaches and unreadable texts. she didn't care, though, as long as it was possible to read. her full attention was focused on the book, and nothing else - she had a bag, full of other books, hanging from her shoulder, smacking her hip when she walked. she didn't notice anything outside of the page; anything not written was not relevant. which was why she didn't notice the guy in she walked by, sitting on a bench reading a book, until she tripped over his feet and fell on her face.

trinity squealed in alarm as she hit the ground, scraping her palms against the cobblestone. her bag was thrown from her shoulder, bouncing away and scattering the books it had held, while the book she was reading skidded away from her in the opposite direction. the breath was knocked out of her when she hit the ground, so it took her a moment to sit back up and crawl over to her things. "i'm sorry!" she cried, panic fluttering in her chest, embarrassment heating her face. after she was done collecting her things, she'd turn and apologize properly. for now, this would do. "i'm sorry!!"

[LUCAS WOLFSON]

He didn’t really take mind of the girl who had clumsily stumbled over his feat, even thought he really didn’t stretch them out. She must have been really out of it to not notice herself edging so close to one’s personal space. But again, he didn’t take mind. It was only until she spluttered out an apology that he took his eyes off the reading material and gazed at her.

She looked like quite a frail young girl, as if a simple bump would completely snap her bones in half, like a twig in a midsummer morning. Her face had that air of innocence, the “aura if you will”. The sort of face you could never blame could never suspect. The sort of face that looked free of any sort of mortal sin or mental wrongdoing. He took this as an opportunity so subtly inspect her mind for a few seconds.

She was human, that much he could already tell. She was quite… well, the correct, albeit uncultured word, would be a wimp. She seemed to have a fear and paranoia of the air itself, and it surprised him that it was taking a stroll during the moon’s reign. And she had a thing for literature, something which quite pleased him. All those uneducated simpletons running around hiding their face in hoodies and speaking the most abysmal and nonsensical words sprouted by the adolescent mind were far too common in the streets.

Yet, something was off about her. She was so… orderly. Not a single trace of chaotic urge contaminated her nature. It was quite a peculiar idea, to be fair. How someone could be so out of balance and yet not have their life in complete confusion and tatters was beyond him. Perhaps there was more to this order and chaos business than he himself knew. This girl was a prime example of how harmony can still be found in a lack of balance. But to be fair, it was far too early to say what could happen.

He replied to her with a simple “It’s alright.” He wasn’t quite sure what else to say, and there probably was nothing else to be said. The two would part with an awkward encounter and the only brief collision they would have would be on the streets. Of course, that’s what he believed was to happen. He turned back to his book and flipped and resumed reading.