squimberrycupcake

Chapter 2 Unnie was returning from the market, a basket hanging on her right arm as her left hand held her long coat and dress, slowly making her way through the heavy snow. Snowflakes whirled all around, and she blinked a few times. The thick snow was so white that it reflected the dazzling sunlight and made the world nearly translucent. She headed toward the backdoor linked to the kitchen, and was about to knock when she heard someone yell "Wait!" and dropped the basket out of surprise. Turning her head, she uttered a small cry. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice wavering, as she stared through the curtains of snow swirling around and b

The wind rushed in through the open windows, whistling a sharp note that fell to a soft melody. The white flowered curtains stopped its waltz, but its hem still moved like billowing waves. My eyes caught the bushes where flashed the ruby-colored raspberries. For a moment, I thought they were roses, the comforting sight of them making me smile. The flicker of hope vanished. The birds' joyous chirping brought back my smile, and I quickly crossed the bedroom to stand in front of the windows. Closing my eyes, I let the warm wind gently stroke my cheeks and play with my hair. My mind flew back to our farm, beyond the forests and rivers, away from

At one end of the road, some would smile heartily: They've had a happy life, a calm one it may be, Full of laughs and love, but peaceful and placid; It is the least one could ask for to be pleased. But what is the purpose of one's life? Is it to content others more than one's self? To follow the paths pointed by the diktats of the society? And to never cross that boundary...?

Il y a là une odeur de sang, Baignant les acres de terre rouge D'un parfum flottant tel un nuage, Sonnant le glas de tous les mourants. C'est un champ de bataille où le vent Souffle la douleur des femmes et sœurs, De ces jeunesses perdues; ces cœurs À jamais meurtris et lancinants. Au-dessus roulent de noirs nuages, D'où tombent larmes et poussières, Formant un fleuve de souvenirs Sur ces soldats morts pour leur courage. Et au loin résonne encore un long cri Transperçant cette nappe de brume, Implorant de donner souffle à l'âme Ayant déjà quitté cette vie.