Turning to me with piercing eyes that betrayed a youthful face he whispered with a soft smile: 'And freedom was never free...'

The acrid smell of wood scented the silent, tense air. But that hardly distressed him; so focused was he, on that single, ever-fleeting goal. A crunch, a sniffle to the left, the monotonous hum of some machinary in the background, the soft whispers of lead against surface resounds in the back of one's mind. Wading through the murky depths slowly but surely, ever tempted was the impulse to step out onto the sickly green grass paths that lined either side. A glance flashed at the round lightless moon, fleshless bony appendages that spoke of the lifespan of its dreamless nightmare, soon it would enter its third and final cycle. He shook his head as he had for an eternity, nay, that illusion all but leads to temporary relief, at the price of ones' fate. Despite oneself, the mind tenses as one of the several spectres floats past; leaving behind it a trail of indifference and duty - a harsh reminder for those that denied the dream. And he prodded out of the knee-deep murk and sludge; in here, indeed, was the pen mightier than the sword.

And as sudden as it began: it was done. Excitement swells in his heart. You take one final look back. No regrets, no second chance here. Shit happens, focus on only what you can change, leave the rest to God.


The sudden gush of light stuns you as you remember it once again, the once acrid stench is now replaced with the sweet crisp air of freedom. Colors seem brighter, the joy of sweetness returns to the taste, details are accentuated, every sense heightened.


I've fought the good fight, ran the good race, the blood and sweat spilled that was once my bane are now my pride; but if you were to ask me to do it again? You're gonna have to guess which finger Im pointing first.


Exams are over.