The WhimperAnd in the end, the world will fall to pieces, tinkling gently, like broken glass, in the cold sweet air. The silence will ringThe Whimper
loud and clear in the aftermath, in the wake of all that was that never was that could have been. The shadows will be left to keep company with memory.
Sweet and gentle solitude, granted peace in the echo of
humanity. Silence will fall heavy on the hands of time, endless perfect empty
time. Damn the angels, close the gates,
The Lost BoyHis fingers were crooked, bending off at the knuckle by the faintest degree. They held an air of being lived in. Hands that belonged somewhere else--a room filled with sawdust, on the lap of a pair of faded coveralls while a rocking chair creaked in the clear air. Though his hands spoke of wisdom, his eyes screamed something else. They were deep and dark, innocent enough to reveal the fact that he was still nineteen. Still young and unaware. His hair was thick, nearly-black. It fell in curls across his neck, standing out in a way that was almost strange against his pale skin. It had a way of falling into his eyes when he was trying to be seriThe Lost Boy
--
-William Hill
--
I have the heart of a child... I keep it in a jar on my desk.
(The immortal Stephen King)
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