When the mighty giant fell,

Pride and humility met in prides cell.

Pride hated losing and was always on his own,

But humility told him she would stay with him, in his home.

When the mighty man who stood so tall,

Finnaly took his greatest fall,

That’s when pride was trapped.

Thats when humility hit him hardest.

When the giant fell that is when they met.

Humility spoke to pride from the other side of the bars.

″We can help each other some day.”

″I need no help. I have my own way.”

″Even now after you have been wounded you stay the same.”

″I am pride, the greatest of them all, I never give way to change.”

Humility shook her head, and dreadfully left the room.

Her greatest attempt was not enough to cahnge him.

Pride was always in his heart, even after the giant fell.

Peace wears flower crowns and pretends not to see the injustices of the world. His eyes are so clouded over, they might as well be pure white. If Peace had a word to describe the world, it’d be sad. Just sad, so unjust and pitiful, and he wants to change the way humans go about their day to day lives. He loves love. He wears pink grapefruit chapstick and flies kites in April. His favorite color’s cotton candy.

War steps on bugs to see them bleed, scratches blackboards for fun. War kills the party before it’s even started. He punches brick walls and pretends it doesn’t hurt, pretends people don’t suffer because of him. If he did, it’d be too much to handle, of course. He hides insecurity behind combat boots and tightly pinched butterfly stitches on his knuckles.

Yeah, they’re kissing behind the art classroom. Punk rock fishnets meet bare, bony knees with white knee socks slipping down. Pink cheeks find tan fingers, or maybe it’s the other way around, but who cares when they’re kissing behind the art classroom. Peace’s tiara is losing stems, and petals are landing on War’s freckles.

Secret notes only brown eyes with flecks of green are privy to and blushes brighter than the bioluminescent fish they’re supposed to learning about instead of memorizing the creases in each other’s palms. There’s a scarlet letter on Peace’s lips, but that’s okay because he’s trading it for Two-Faced lip plumper in bubblegum pink. War’s leather jackets are disappearing, and he’s working up the courage to ask Peace if they can ride motorcycles together. He thinks he would like it. The helmet might crush his crown, though.

An apartment building two blocks west of where Peace actually lives becomes their safe haven when shy, tentative grins and blank expressions when people ask why they smile at each other so much aren’t enough to conceal blantant love.

It’s not like anyone actually cares where they’re running off to, anyway. Justice is off, saying she’s completing her community service hours, but Gossip can tell you she’s really paying off Fear to mow lawns for Poverty. Truth knows about their clandestine affair, but he won’t tell: he promised. Envy’s avoided talking to either party because she exclaims how she can’t stand lovey-dovey awkwardness, but really she’s just upset everything’s not about her for once. Safety doesn’t like it, not one bit. They swear the two will end up hurting each other in the long run.

War’s sister, Anger, says it’s the best thing for both of them even if they don’t know it yet, but they both know it; it’s just a matter of whether or not they agree on the fact that without the other, they’re practically nothing, voidless beings without feelings or-or...anything at all, really.

The apartment goes empty for a while. They’re still paying for it, but school gets it the way, and Peace wants to go to Berkeley and studying...something, he’s not quite sure yet. War broke his knuckles the other day because Stupidity defended Idiocy for saying something bad about Peace, and Cowardice would have jumped in to stop the fight, really he would have, swear on it, but Stupidity’s blood was always splashed across his wrinkled flannel shirt. War tried to stop himself, really, he did. Peace still grimaced at the damages while he fixed his lover’s knuckles.

“You should’ve seen the other guy,” he tossed out in such a cliche way that Peace snorts into the crook of his elbow.

“I did. And I’m glad I don’t have to patch him up too.”

War’s cobalt blue eyes meet brown ones, and he knows he messed up. A lot. Peace doesn’t shout, doesn’t even hardly admit how upset he is. Knowledge, War’s old girlfriend, would have given him a seven page, double-spaced, MLA format essay on why he was wrong. Peace just shrugs and wraps War’s swollen ankle from where he kicked Cowardice’s nose in. It was throbbing and purple by the time he left off. Worth it, he thinks, admiring his own cut cheek that only accentuates his fine bone structure. Not worth it, he reminds himself, noting Peace’s downcast gaze while he eats cold pasta.

They go home that night, to seperate rooms, in seperate houses, on opposite sides of town. Abstract Avenue is where they meet up the next morning without planning, Coincedence would’ve loved to have seen it.

Anyone else, War would be screaming at them because he doesn’t know any better. Peace never raises his voice, always modest and docile, paintbrush in hand, saying, “Oh well, you messed up.” Except not this time. Not this time because he’s never quite loved anyone like War. He’s never known anyone like him before. He’s never loved someone to their core, no matter how dark and endless it truly is.

They stop kissing behind the art classroom, and that’s when everyone should know the relationship has probably found a dead end. Friendship and Goodness, the twins with matching gold curls, want to think otherwise. Everyone wants to believe good will prevail, but how can it when good and bad are cut from the same stone? Made from the same mold? They fit together like puzzle pieces, and it will be hard to break them apart. Until the big fight when Peace can’t control his tears. War hates crying, finds it weak and unnecessary. He apologizes so much, but he’s already thrown the coffee mug at Peace’s favorite painting, and there’s a scratch in the glass, the frame’s gone lopsided. There will be no ’sorry’s tonight.

Patience moved slowly. As always.

Her gait shuffled along the path, as she carefully avoided each small crack and insect, her steps lifting over pillbugs and patches of concrete.

She had a watch but never bothered to look at it. There was always enough time.

As she moved steadily forward a sudden gust of movement swept by, nearly knocking poor Patience onto the street. Clutching her cane, she kept her balance and lost only her hat.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry! So sorry!” Quick hands picked up the sun bonnet and held it up to her, panting in deep breaths. “I was just in such a hurry, you know - I’m late again.” Earnest dusted a few bits of loose gravel from the brim. “That’s not your fault, though. So very rude of me.” When Patience stared in reply, he shook the hat again to emphasize its existence. “Here you go.”

Gingerly, Patience accepted her hat back. “Thank you for stopping.” She smiled, the old familiar lines creasing in well-worn tradition.

Earnest beamed back, a laserbeam of light-heartedness. “Absolutely! It’s always best to make up for your mistakes - and I should know, I make a mess of them, just a mess!” Tipping his own hat, he gave a wave. “Well, have to dash - again, late, as usual, ha ha, silly me. Please take care and have a lovely day!” With another burst of air, he raced off into the afternoon sun.

Patience watched with a smile. Such a lovely young lad. Glancing down at the hat in her hands, she spied something else on the ground below. With a frown, she clucked, “Oh dear - he’ll be missing these, I’d say.”

Reaching down she picked up two well-worn books, the thickness of which had obviously weighed down Earnest’s hurried pace. The first, labeled Reason, had several pages ripped out as if lost from sheer frustration. The second, labeled Dignity, had dog-earred pages describing such elaborate rules of etiquette even Patience marveled at them.

Hefting each tome in her arms, she glanced up at the dusty avenue along which the young man had run. She had no idea where he’d eventually ended up, nor when he might pass by again. Still, she thought, no sense throwing away good books. They might prove more her speed anyway.

Tucking them under her arm, she continued her trek with a smile.

It was summer. I was working in a field under a deep blue sky with my

humble home in a dead log a few yards behind me. The grass stretched far

into the distance and a river snaked through this paradise. My hand

would have brushed the grass as I walked if not for the grass avoiding

my hand.

I carried a small notebook with me at the time. Then it was barely

filled. I had just started noting the dying things around me, at first

to bide my time, but later I recorded to remember the dead. I thought it

was the least I could do. However, I could only take note of the dying

things, never speak to them or prevent their death. I didn’t know why

things died, but I was always there when they died. I suppose I killed

them.

Fall had set in and the leaves changed hue. The notebook grew, the pages

filled, but book was never full. I flipped through the pages looking at

the animals and the plants I had seen die. I kicked through the dead

leaves cursing my situation and remembering where I once resided. Cursed

to roam this place and bear witness the end of all things.There had to

be a reason for their deaths. All these deaths, what was the point of

it? There had to be a motivation to put me through this. Why was I to

witness their end? I couldn’t save them no matter how much I tried. I

only caused death.

Winter arrived and its deathly whisper spoke to the land driving it to

its deep slumber. I was the most occupied with my notebook. So much

death. Much of it senseless. Suicide was a common thought. And each time

I dismissed it because I did not want another soul to bare the burden I

bare. I wasn’t certain if my ‘situation’ would end or just carry on to

the next poor soul. I always wore long clothing to hide the scars

covering my body.

With the arrival of spring came the judging looks of the animals as they

saw me. A mother deer guards her fawn from my presence. Other animals

snarl as I walk by. Even the plants shuddered as I walked by.

I was running for shelter in a thunderstorm and found a cave hiding in a

forest. The torrential rain and lightning continued outside the cave.

Each lightning strike illuminated portions of the cave and revealed I

was not alone.

A family of baboons was also taking shelter. I saw them in each

lightning flash. In each flash, I saw their fear increase. And soon,

they were gone. They left me in search of a different cave.

I could see them jumping through the forest looking for cover. I knew

they didn’t have long. They would’ve survived if they had stayed.

Enraged, I stood at the mouth of the cave and shouted into the distance.

“YOU THINK I WANTED THIS! YOU THINK I ENJOY DOING THIS!”

The rain picks up and some water starts falling into the cave. The wind

blows into the cave pushing me back in. The rain continued for the rest

of the night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The water glistened in the morning light. Small puddles lined the mouth

of the cave and tiny droplets of water fell from the leaves above. The

plants took no notice of me as they absorbed the nutrients from last

night’s downpour. The animals, on the contrary, kept their cautious and

guarding demeanor when they saw me.

I reached the boundary of the forest. The river was larger yet flowed

gently. I was alone at the boundary of the forest. I thought I was alone

until I saw her in the distance.

Across the river was her. An ethereal beauty. She was tending to the

plants around the river. Helping spread some of their seeds. The animals

gravitated to her, even the plants leaned if they could in her

direction.

I was amazed by her gentle aura and kind disposition emanating from her

being.

She looked up from her plants.

We locked eyes and knew then. She would be mine. And I would be hers. We

were complete opposites, but knew we were meant for each other.

She lived among nature. She slept in leaves and under trees.

I lived in the dying trees. It kept me safe and provided sturdy place in

storms.

She couldn’t bare to see the trees hurt, but understood that we needed a

safe place. She looked away as I began tearing down the trees to build

our new home. After the home was built, she quickly planted flowers and

plants to make up for the loss.

The same day, she showed me a garden she had created.

“Where did all of this come from?” I asked.

“I made it. I made everything” she replied. She demonstrated with a

seed. She placed the seed in the ground and watered. Soon a small

sapling sprouted from the soil.

She showed the creatures in the dirt and the plants growing due to their

assistance. The trees she replanted in the forest and the animals she

birthed to house in the forest. She left a few spots empty.

“Aren’t you going to plant in those empty spots?” I asked her.

She shrugged and waved off my question. She ushered me to follow her.

I walked through her garden of life and found a dying plant.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

“I don’t know and I can’t save it” she spoke in a teary voice.

I placed my hand underneath the plants drooping stem. And it rested its

body in my palm like a child lying their head in his father’s hand for

comfort. Never before had a plant leaned itself against my hand.

Instinctively my hand reached for my notebook in my pocket.

“What’s that”, she asked.

I stammered. I didn’t know how to tell her, but she made the connections

herself.

“The animals spoke of you. Someone who takes note when they die.” She

said in surprised but fearful voice. “You killed them.”

“I don’t know.” I spoke shamefully.

I hand her my notebook. “This notebook notes everything that has died

since I began. I didn’t choose to do this. I never wanted this. I’m -”

“You were the one screaming”, she spoke in a soft voice.

“What?”

“The night of the storm. The animals and I heard a voice being carried

in the winds. I’ve never heard or felt such a hurt and confused soul. I

searched during the storm but I couldn’t find the source.”

I didn’t respond.

She put her hand on my shoulder and embraced me.

“I wanted to know who was hurt so I could hug them and let them know

it’ll be ok. And that everything happens for a reason. Everything has

beauty. You just need to find it.”

I was afraid her hand would feel the scars on my body. I felt her hand

touch a scar on my back, but she didn’t quiver and her embrace only

tightened. Never before had I felt wanted. For as long as I could

remember, I was separate from the world. In this moment, I felt loved.

In this moment, I felt bliss. In this moment, I felt I was with the

world. But I still felt conflicted. Even with her, I’ll still witness

the end.

However, her words echoed in my mind. ‘Everything has beauty’. And I am

determined to find it.

Months passed and she created new plants, new forests, and new animals

to roam the fields through the paradise. We didn’t speak of our

dichotomy much, but I wondered who had it worse. Her who knew her

children would die by me. Or me, knowing I’d be the one watch every

beautiful thing she creates die.

Time continues. As we grew older, her creations became binary. Nothing

was created without a pair. An eternal bond, she called it.

We’re standing in the garden watching the animals in the forest. She

pointed to two deer eating the grass near the forest.

“One being split in half. So there’s perfect pair for everyone.”

“How would they find each other”, I asked.

“Just like we did. So that everyone will have a partner.” She walked

back to the house.

I noticed that one of the trees I previously cut down had a hole in its

trunk. As I walked closer, the hole now housed an a parliament of owls.

“The dead tree provided a home”, I whispered to myself.

I turned to call to her, but I saw her already watching me. Smiling.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We sat on the hillside to watch the sunset. Every sunset reminded me of

the end. The ephemeral quality of life and I couldn’t stand watching

the end of everything. Knowing I watched everything turn to soot.

“Do you think I could ever create?” I asked her quietly. “Not like you.

But through dying plants and animals?”

She didn’t answer. The sun continued to fall and night was emerging

behind us.

“Do you think I could ever kill?” Her tone was quiet as if she had been

plagued by a similar question in her mind.

We sat in silence for a while never making eye contact.

She continued. “Remember when you asked why I didn’t plant in those

empty spots?”

“Yes.”

“I used to plant everywhere, but sometimes I see plants dying. They’re

not actually dying, but I see them dying. In the future maybe. That’s

why I stopped.”

Her gaze stayed upon the lying sun on the horizon. I looked towards her.

She continued.

“Look”, she said gesturing to the great expanse before us. A palate of

reds and oranges emanating from the single sun in the distance as the

dark sheet quickly follow. “The beauty of calmness and remaining still.

You are here. I feel your comforting presence.”

I didn’t respond.

“Millions of lives full of potential. Millions die everyday and you bare

witness to each and everyone one of them...... Then you would see my end

as well”, she continued.

I hadn’t considered that. I can’t see her die. I couldn’t bare it.

She turned towards me. Her eyes locked with mine. And we stayed like

this for a while. Gazing, analyzing in each other’s eyes.

“But I can’t lose you to.” The words escaped my mouth with such ease

that I didn’t even realize I spoke.

She put her hand on my cheek. I tilted my head to rest slightly in her

palm.

“You won’t lose me”, she spoke softly. “We’ll be together

forever.....One being split in half.”

“An Eternal Bond.”

“This is it. And it’s ephemeral. And that’s what makes it beautiful.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Epilogue

Now I wander the earth alone. I’ve seen many places, visited many

people. Many who could not see the beauty. My notebook stays with me

with its pages being continuously filled. The beauty of simplicity often

eluded me until now. The flap of a butterfly’s wings and the flight of a

bumblebee. Knowing that everything comes to an end is what makes it

valuable.

Everything has beauty and I could finally see.

All the lives I see end, and I will be blamed for each and every one of

them. I am a powerless being being forced to witness to the doom of

reality.

Sometimes I catch glimpses of her in the crowd. The whisper of her voice

in the wind or her laughter in the crowd. Though I may not see her, I

feel her presence with me everywhere.

We have an eternal bond that spans time and space.

A bond between Life and Death.