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Weekly Contest #354
TW: Death, War, BloodI don't understand why we cut down trees to make houses. Trees in their natural state are strong, rooted so deep into the ground, it takes a force greater than stone and soil to rip them out. We say when we build homes that we are laying down roots. But we aren’t, not truly. If houses, made of wood, grew roots stretching into the core of this earth as their mother trees did, they would not be ripped to shreds during storms.That is how the house looks before me now, ripped into millions of little pieces. Of course it’s no...
TW: Death, suicide, violence against women, murder. Salías del templo un día, Llorona, cuando al pasar yo te vi, The sun is towards the middle of the cerulean sky, signaling the hottest portion of the day is approaching fast. I can already see the haze of the heat against the line of broad canopied tropical trees that is the backdrop of the cathedral and the small town that surrounds it. The cathedral bells chime out their rumbling tones, the short melody ringing in my ears long after it has stopped, signaling the end of mass. I am convinced...
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