greekaholic

A gust of wind pushed over everyone as another group of cars rushed past. The metal bleachers were creaking under all the movement. The chilled air failed to make an impression on a lone man. His name was Jack and none of this commotion fazed him. His eyes were vacant and not even the jostling of other spectators could coax a word out of him. A girl spilled her drink on him after being shoved. "Oh my gosh sir I'm so sorry! Let me help you!" When he didn't respond she laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Are you ok?" He looked at her. "No." His dark eyes were resigned and as cold as the bleachers they sat on. --- Below cars raced aro

Shouts pierce the thick grainy wood of the door. Jack pauses and bites his lip. A moment later his ear is pressed against the door. Guilt is welling in his chest, but he ignores it. Angela and Stephen's fights are getting more and more frequent. Once under the old stairwell he was finishing a cup of coffee. Storming down the steps, they were accusing and insulting. Shame may have dogged him for it, but Jack stood and listened. Now it's the same except he's against the door. The argument is the same and so is Jack's nagging conscience. The shouts almost become monotonous as he's wrapped up in his thoughts. His eyes flicker shut and he lets

It was the worst thing he had ever seen. Only moments before victory had swelled in his chest, now there was coldness. His knees buckled under him. His vision was cloudy with tears. Shoulders shaking he gasped for air, trying to contain his tears. "Oh you where like my brother. I now remember all the laughs and trails we shared. What a horrible death for the most noble of Romans." He clutched his dead friend's hand and pressed it to his cheek. "Cassius you shall have a funeral befitting yourself. I only wish our last meeting wasn't so full of sorrow." Brutus stood, tears streaking down his face. "The world will never forget my friend and