Grumpy and me
A little girl. Eight summers.
She will always believe in the magic of Santa Claus and The Tooth Fairy.
She will never have to fret about school exams, university placement or walking through the door to her very first day in her very first job, wondering if people will like her.
She will never buy her first lipstick.
She will never hear her mum berate her for her choice of too high heeled shoes.
Lost birthdays.
She will never get to worry about boyfriends. Or plan her wedding.
A broken family.
Time will never change her.
She died a Crusader. Never knowing the Crusade.
A grown man. Twenty two winters.
He had chances and opportunities.
He could have chosen to find the good in mankind. He only had to look.
He could have lived wherever he chose, with people he chose, living quietly with his God, helping those less fortunate.
He built ice around his heart and grew evil in his mind. Yet his family never saw.
He used nuts and bolts that build, and hold things together, to tear lives apart.
This man was not a warrior raging a war against evil. This was simply evil raging. The man was a thief. He stole lives. I hope this is how he is judged by his God.
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