Mr Cakebread's Writings

Sorry sights to see them grieving, six feet from each other. A girl weeps their in solitude, but does not hug her mother. Damp masks a'soaken slide down chin, and words they share between them. Bouncers intervene therein those actions they condemned. "You've been told once, you've been told twice. The masks, they stay up here" He gestured for them, with his fingers, masking ear to ear. They tried to mourn, now feeling scorned, for whom they lost that day. But they could only feel one feeling, not grieving, but dismay. The party was dismissed just then, and ordered not to linger. "Back to your homes and to your bubbles", again he waved his fingers. They queued to leave in single file, their heads down, eyes averted. The warden watched in comfort though, his safety not subverted.

          He reached out his arm, with a desperate but determined look on his face. She wanted to hold onto it, with every fibre of her heart. “it can be just us, forever and for no one else”, he told her. She felt shame for every act against such an idea she had committed before now. Who could forgive such an ugliness, in the light of something so pure?, s he thought. He assured her that where they could go together “all good things are framed in beauty and all darkness can be forgotten”. Darkness was so normal to them both, that she could not believe it and she expressed so. “How do you know that we can have this?”. He paused, and for a moment his faith trembled. “I don’t know”, he replied. Activity could be heard in the distance, and they both turned to it with a panic. But even the delay of their potential separation by outside forces could not throw ice over a burning intensity to their unfinished words. She and her words were more important to him t...